It was going to be a big day for us. Our youngest child James had been selected to throw out the first pitch to famed baseball player Albert Pujols of the St. Louis Cardinals. He had been selected because Albert was working with the local Down Syndrome Association, and James is a Down Syndrome kid.
We all wondered how he would do, but that day he was in his “play to the crowd” mood. When asked to, he walked off with the Cardinals officials to meet Albert Pujols. We could see him talking up a storm and pointing to his family all standing against the fence. Albert waved to us a couple of times, and then he asked James to “fire away.”
He ran all the way to the pitchers mound, waved to the cheering crowd and then, with great confidence, wound up and threw the ball. The pitch didn’t quite make it to home plate, but Mr. Pujols ran, scooped it up off the grass, and went to congratulate James. He then signed the ball and handed it to James.
Being a good father, I immediately took the signed ball away from James for “safe keeping.” I bought the nice acrylic stand and proudly displayed it in my office at home. One Sunday evening when I came home from church, my other son, Robert, told me James had gone into my office and had taken the signed ball out of its case. Since Albert Pujols had signed the ball, James decided he should add his signature to my prized ball. My reaction was a mixture of anger, frustration and great disappointment.
I had to do some emotional processing. After all, it was James' ball. I had kind of hijacked it. It actually makes perfect sense to a little guy to sign a ball that already had a signature. Then I realized that while this ball may have lost some of its value, signed as it was by one of baseball’s all-time great players, it now told the whole story much better. It no longer would sit on my shelf as a perfect collectible, but in its imperfect state, its value was more personal now. It is the story of the great value of the imperfect.
Cindy and I chose the name James for our baby when he was born fourteen years ago. There is something very classic and dignified about that name. Several American presidents wore the name. In the New Testament, James wrote one of my favorite books, and he was the half brother of Jesus. It is a significant name. As parents, we dream of our sons growing up and doing something of great significance, and we had our name ready.
On July 1, James was born. After the anesthesia from her surgery was wearing off, Cindy asked to see our little guy. The nurse brought him in and handed him to me. I held him up for Cindy to see. She stroked his forehead and then asked, “Eddie, is he okay?”
I assured her he was fine. Then she said, “He just doesn't look like the other children.” I felt this dagger go through my heart. She saw something that I had not. Even as I tried to assure her that her fears were unfounded, I knew a mother's intuition is something that is not to be ignored. They took James back to the nursery.
Later that day we had the moment with our doctor all parents pray will never come. The door opened, our pediatrician walked in. Her gait, her tone, her demeanor – all said something was wrong. She said James was doing well, and then came the pause – a pause that lasted forever. “The baby is doing well - - - but there is something we need to talk about. I think your baby has Down Syndrome.”
Our lives changed forever that day. Having a special needs child is a problem without resolution. The news brings a heaviness, a burden, a challenge, a set of life long limitations, a fog of uncertainty that is never going to go away.
What we did not know, that we know now, is that with special challenges also come special joys. Within this world of imperfection and struggle are some very fun times. The baseball with double signatures represents some of these great times. The truth is that God has and continues to teach me so many things through my special James.
I have learned that an infinite God does not just love the smart and perfect. As a father, my love for my children does not increase or decrease with their intelligence or talents. Likewise, God’s love is not contingent on perfection. None of us is perfect, but all of us are deeply valued and loved by God.
I have also learned that you can be both retarded (it took me a long time to accept that word in reference to my son) and smart at the same time. While we are all imperfect, we do have something to offer God and each other.
1 Corinthians 1:27-29 says God has chosen the foolish things, the weak things, the base things and the despised things, “that no flesh should glory in His presence.” And so the truth is that imperfect gifts are where God does some of His most amazing things. My son James is a living testament to this truth.
