It is no secret that Evan stutters (in fact, that would have been a nice thing for Michael to have mentioned to me before our first "date" with the boys...another story, another day...). If you have ever spoken with Evan, it is no surprise for me to tell you that he stutters, either.
What sometimes surprises me, though, is that Evan doesn't think he stutters. I heard him tell his speech therapist on the phone last week that he doesn't need to see her because he doesn't stutter anymore...
Interesting.
What is also interesting, and what has been a bit surprising to me of late, is that Evan's stuttering could also be a gift.
Seriously, I must be nuts to say that, because who in their right mind would want to stutter? Or to have a child that stutters?
Nobody. Except maybe the silly kids who play that game, "Which would you rather have: a hole in your head or a hole in your chest?" It might go something like this: "Which would you rather have: trouble with speech, or trouble with walking?" How do you pick?
So maybe it's a good thing we don't get to pick (or do we...?). I certainly wouldn't have picked it for Evan, but then I also wouldn't have just had the conversation with Natalie about how Evan's stuttering has helped her young son Cameron realize that he's not alone with his own speech problems. I wouldn't hear people at church commenting and complimenting Evan on his guts and gumption for saying the Sacrament prayer every week, stutters and all. I wouldn't have learned about sweet, beautiful, popular Ellie telling Evan he was special because everyone can talk normally, and not everyone can stutter.
Interesting.
It is true that people seem to listen harder when Evan speaks. They care more, probably because they have to work more to understand, and also because they start inwardly rooting for him when things start to get bumpy. I think, then, that stuttering is a gift to the listener, because we usually get more out of things when we have to put effort into them.
I think stuttering has been a gift for Evan because he has sweet, nice people for friends. They are kind teen-
agers who look inside of Evan and enjoy him without haste or judgement. Stuttering kind of weeds out friends who aren't able to look past the outside garble. And who wouldn't want the nice kids to befriend their child?
I think Evan's stuttering has been a gift for me. Lots of people come to talk to me about how great Evan is because he has touched them in a special way, and I like hearing good things about my kids. Additionally, Evan's example of
no fear has been really good for me. Most people don't believe that I am shy, but it's true--just ask my mom or dad about all the years of tears and fears that people were looking at me, listening to me, laughing at me...I think I've come a long way, but sometimes I still take a backward step or two. Evan has helped me to keep going because he has always been able to talk to anyone, anywhere, anytime, and never thought twice about his stuttering. So what's my excuse? I want to be like Evan.
I think of Moses, in the Bible, who described himself as "
slow of speech." I love the Lord's answering reply to Moses (and to me):
And the LORD said unto him, Who hath made man’s mouth? or who maketh the dumb, or deaf, or the seeing, or the blind? have not I the LORD?
Exodus 4:11
Moses did great things in spite of (and maybe sometimes because of?) his slowness of speech. Evan is doing great things, too, and I bet he'll keep them up! The Lord is in charge. He made Evan, and no matter why it is that Evan stutters, there are compensatory blessings. There are gifts.
I would be wise to end this post now, and not delve into something even more personal to me...but since when have I been wise? So here it is:
Admittedly I still hurt sometimes over our inability to have more children.
There.
I said it.
It's been a lot of years. You'd think I'd get over it. And sometimes I think I am.
I do wonder, though, at the idea of compensatory blessings, and at the prospect of taking something difficult, like Evan's stuttering, and being able to make it something worthwhile. Lemonade for your lemons. And though it might show true weakness in me for finding a relatively easy trial to be so difficult (which would you rather have: no more children or to lose them all in a car crash...), it still is what it is. I want to know what the gifts are.
In six years I've come up with this much: gratitude for what I've got. A little more sensitivity to other's inside disappointment. A learned avoidance of the questions: "So, when are you going to have another one?" or "So, when are you going to get married?" or any other "So, when are you going to ..." question that's really not my business. A glacially-paced but growing knowledge that I am good enough just as me. An up and down acceptance that the Lord is in charge and really does care. A slowly traveled pathway back towards believing in prayer.
Do you know too much about me now?
Probably.
I should stick to junior high stories. They're funnier.
P.S. No need to comment on this. I really just had to get it out in the open to see and look at. Let's just share it in quiet, for now. Thanks.
