Photos courtesy of our dear friend, Hal, at he and his wife's gorgeous home on a perfect afternoon in Fontainebleau this summer.
So I know that you all think that the term "special" is kind of derogatory while referring to handicapped people...right? But I had a huge revelation that whomever coined that term, was sincere and spot-on. It's only those of us who have not had the privilege of knowing truly "special"people who have come to misinterpret it, and misuse it along the way.
We are so happy to be back home in Paris, and sleeping in our own beds. We had a two month stay in our dear friends' gorgeous empty home in the french countryside this summer. The past two summers have been manic for us, and let's face it, since the twins were born here a little over three years ago, there is rarely a quiet moment in our midst. So we made a conscious decision to stay in one place and enjoy the garden (the french term for yard--it's much more charming, isn't it?), and each other. Like all good house guests, we wanted to buy our friends a thank you gift for allowing us to stay there, so in true American-style, we bought them a swing set. Admittedly,it's for our kids, too, to play on when we are invited there to stay :)
But the morning the swing set was arriving, the delivery man called and said he'd be there between 10 and 10:30. I thought this was much more specific than the usual 9 am and 1 pm, so decided to open the big gates and cut back the overgrown trees on the busy street facing the Quimbrot's home.
Knowing there were a lot of cars that passed this small country road, we usually always left the front gate closed, and locked with key. Apparently Parker is like many other small boys his age, he throws everything he can out the window, every electronic is covered with water, swords and balls appear out of thin air...And I was worried that Parker would actually climb out an open window while staying at our friends' home. Or run into the seemingly quiet country street only to encounter a speeding car. But I truly did not expect what actually happened while we were there this summer.
All of the children were playing very happily in the house and the older girls are getting more responsible, and usually looking after the twins with some skill these days, so I decided it wasn't completely unreasonable to open the gate, wait for the swing set delivery, and cut the trees lining the road, assuming I would surely see or hear little feet passing me before headed for danger in the street behind me.
But 10 turned into 10:30, which turned into 11, and 11:15 before I thought the swing set may not actually make it's way from Germany or wherever it was coming from after all....and I continued to weed in the front garden. Suddenly I heard a car pull up and a man got out, ran over to the neighbor who was apparently in his front walkway. He asked very matter-of-factly, "Tu sais a qui appartien ce petit garçon?"----"Do you know who this little boy belongs to?".....For a minute, I thought to myself, "That's strange, a little boy has gone missing, or was found, and in this small town, no one knows who he belongs to? Hmmmm"I kept on weeding....It honestly took me 30 seconds before I realized I should look and see who this little boy was.
Of course.
OF COURSE IT WAS MY LITTLE BOY, PARKER. How on earth he got passed me, bare foot, and ran up the street, and was found in the curve of the street IN THE MIDDLE OF THE STREET, 500 meters away--only God knows.
Of course I was shaken, and surprised, and ran up the street to say, "A moi! A moi!"He was MY little boy. He BELONGED to me. And they found him in the street.
"Slacker American mom with too many kids"...I could almost hear them thinking, with a much more french accent, of course..
And after I shut and locked the gate, with Parker safely in my arms, I couldn't help but feel culpable....but at the same time realize very matter-of-factly that again, there are angels watching over this little boy.
And he does not, really, belong to me at all. He is just on loan to me from God. He is truly God's son, he just has our genes....and yet I think I am bordering on negligence, but perhaps he does have 9 lives, if such a thing exists.
I think he is destined for greatness, not because of me being his mother, but in spite of me being his mother.
The next day the neighbor peeped his head over into our garden and said, 'Parker, you gave us a big scare yesterday." He then told me he didn't believe in God, but believed that we all have a star that watches over us. Whatever you want to call it, I know Parker has it, and I know for a certainty.
And that is special. Oh-so-very-special. It's like he has been touched by an angel, or the Hand of God, and he is soooo very very special. You can feel it in his presence, see it in his eyes, feel it when he laughs.
Again, I thank God for his safety, and feel like the Gods and destiny are much greater than I am. And he truly doesn't belong to me after all, but to a greater universe.
And yes, I think we are ALL special, and unique and lovely....but maybe "special"people really are more special than the rest of us.
