Chicken Soup for the Soul: Children with Special Needs by Jack Canfield Read Free Book Online Page A

wiping my tears, trying to gather my composure. “I have enough money.”
    “Well, honey, what is it then?” she persisted.
    “It’s just that I’m kind of overwhelmed. I’m here shopping for groceries so that I can bring my children home from the hospital tomorrow.”
    “Home from the hospital! What a celebration that will be. Why, you should have a party!”
    Within minutes this stranger had befriended me. She took my crumpled-up grocery list, smoothed it out, and became my personal shopper. She stayed by my side until each item on my list was checked off. She even walked me to my car, helping me as I placed the groceries in my trunk. Then with a hug and a smile, she sent me on my way.
    It was shortly after midnight, while lugging the groceries into my house, that I realized the lesson this woman had taught me. “My kids are coming home from the hospital!” I shouted with joy. “Joel is off life support and functioning on a monitor. Jenna and I can learn how to manage her diabetes and give her shots properly. And just as God met my needs in a grocery store, He will meet each and every need we have. What a reason to celebrate.” I giggled to myself. “I have a reason to celebrate!” I shouted to my empty house.
    “Why, you should have a party,” the woman had exclaimed.
    And a party there would be!
    Janet Lynn Mitchell
     
    Janet Lynn Mitchell is a wife and mother of three incredible kids. She is also an inspirational speaker and author of numerous articles and stories in compilations. Janet’s latest book, Taking a Stand, has just been released. Through it all, Janet and her family have learned that together they can face mountains and reach new heights. Janet can be reached at [email protected].
     

My Finest Teachers
     
    I was five years old when I first learned how cruel kids could be. My friend and I were riding the bus to school, and a little girl with blonde hair was sitting behind us. We didn’t know her, but we knew her name was Sue.
    As Sue sat there, my friend and I began to hurt her. We pushed her and scratched at her arm. We said mean things to her. What had prompted this most hurtful and cruel behavior? What had she done? Nothing.
    Her only “crime” was that she looked different. Her mouth was different than ours, and when she spoke, it sounded different. She sat silently and endured our cruelty. She could have called to the bus driver or told us to stop, but she chose not to.
    After arriving at school, I was called to the principal’s office. I can still remember the look on Mrs. Barto’s face and the sadness in her eyes as she asked me why I had done this. I hung my head and said I didn’t know, and I honestly didn’t. That was the sad part. That was the last day Sue ever came to our school.
    Years later, in high school, I met Sue again. She was nice to me. Although she didn’t recognize me, I knew it was Sue. I could still see the mild trace of a scar on her upper lip. I wanted to tell her how sorry I was, that I was the mean little kid who had taunted her that day, but instead I hid in the anonymity of being a teenager. She never knew it was me, and I never had the courage to tell her.
    In a hospital room some twenty-six years after kindergarten, my fifth baby was born. The words they used to describe him were hard for me to hear, “Down syndrome.”
    As I looked at my newborn son, my heart ached. All I could think about was Sue. Had her mother held her and loved her, just as I did with my David? Of course, she had. Though David looked different to the doctors, he looked beautiful to me. All of a sudden, I realized that, someday, others might be as cruel to David as I had been to Sue—all because he was different.
    It felt like my life was shattering. I felt like God had made a mistake in sending David to me. I was sure some other mother could love him more and be a better mom. I knew I didn’t have what it took to be the mother of a child with a disability. This was more