What Gregory Taught Me

I work with a sweet kindergarten boy named Gregory. He has severe hearing loss and wears hearing aids to help. He was finally equipped with double power hearing aids this week, complete with an amplifier I wear around my neck when I work with him. He was so excited for these hearing aids! They were bright blue and matched my amplifier, and when I smiled and raised my eyebrows in an I am so impressed face he lit up like a light bulb. What a beautiful moment.

I am blessed by these children every day, and they constantly remind me to see the best parts of life and rejoice in the simplest of situations. We can all learn something from Gregory, who doesn’t hide behind his differences, and from the other kindergarteners in his class who gave oooohs and ahhhhs over his hearing aids. I’ve worked enough years in the school system to know that Gregory’s hearing aids might not always be the source of joy they are now. There may come a time when other children laugh at him, and into his middle school years they may be the thing that sets him apart rather than something that draws others to him. The world can be a tough place. But right now Gregory is rejoicing in himself and is using his hearing aids to teach those around him.

Notice I did not say Gregory accepts his differences. Obviously he does, but with the innocence of a small child he has no idea what acceptance means. He inherently knows everything is good and acts accordingly. Likewise, the Lord does not call us to just accept what makes us different. He wants us to rejoice in it. He is the first creator, the ultimate artist, and that makes us his masterpieces. Can you imagine someone examining a Vincent Van Gogh painting, or the Mona Lisa, or the Louvre in Paris, and saying “That’s nice, I accept it”? No. People gaze for hours at these creations, they revere them, study them, allowing true beauty to penetrate their eyes and hearts. Even so, these manmade creations come nowhere near the marvelous design of the human person.

I myself have struggled with this for a long time. It’s been hard to accept what makes me different, how I’m set apart from other women especially. I’ve wanted to be taller, more outgoing, wished I wasn’t so awkward, and I have one ear that’s a different shape than the other one. I’m not kidding. When I was in middle school I refused to wear ponytails simply because I was embarrassed that my ears didn’t match. Good grief. Now I can laugh at how ridiculous this was, but I was missing something important back then: what makes us different is not something to hide behind or to be merely accepted or tolerated, it is something we are called to rejoice in as children of a God who does not make junk. Seriously. Do you understand what it means to be a child of the true King? I don’t think I do. I’m sure this will be something not fully comprehensible until we actually come before Him in heaven.

Today I’m thankful for Gregory, for his joyful witness, and for him being Christ to me. Gregory is rejoicing in the way he is made, and his joy is helping others to view him with wonder. I hope you can take Gregory’s story and turn it around to examine your own life. What makes you different? What differences have you previously hid behind, or been embarrassed of, or allowed to diminish your joy? Make a commitment right now to tell yourself every day how wonderful you are, not in spite of your differences, but because of them. I’m not saying it’s going to be easy, and some days will still leave you feeling insignificant or less than, but as long as you don’t allow those feelings to become a habit I promise you it will get easier. I'm praying for you all!

For you formed my inward parts; you knitted me together in my mother’s womb. I praise you, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made. Wonderful are your works; my soul knows it very well. My frame was not hidden from you, when I was being made in secret, intricately woven in the depths of the earth. Your eyes saw my unformed substance; in your book were written, every one of them, the days that were formed for me, when as yet there was none of them. // Psalm 139: 13-16