A heart at peace gives life to the body, but envy rots the bones. Proverbs 14:30
One emotion that we confront frequently as our child struggles is envy. We look about us at children running, playing, talking, and walking. We see them whispering in small groups, laughing out loud, tossing a ball, or doing all manner of typical things.
And the minute we look and let those simple, whimsical, carefree actions sink in, envy arrives. We find ourselves envious of other parents and other children. We wish, for our own child’s sake, that he could run, he could jump, he could see, he could climb, he could toss the ball, he could simply be typical.
The movements, the play, the whimsy – it all seems so simple. We can’t help but wonder why our child must be denied those abilities, those joys. The devil pesters us into wishful thinking by sending envy into the cracks and crevices of our human condition.
What’s more, this envy visits us unexpectedly all the days of our child’s journey. It comes in the early days. It comes to us as months turn into years. It comes even as the journey stretches out and the years multiply.
If we’re not careful, envy compels us to look past the blessing of our child, the special journey upon which he has taken us, and the unimagined, eye-opening sights we’ve witnessed. If we’re not careful, envy seizes us and contorts us and threatens to paralyze us with unanswerable questions and unbridled, insatiable desires tied to our child’s abilities.
Envy raises questions for which there is no earthly answer. It sets our imaginations ablaze. It recalls the grieving tied to our broken dreams and our shattered hopes.
It even rots our bones, God tells us. It becomes a cancer, one that threatens our faith and our frame.
We must resist it. If we find that it has taken root in our lives or in our way of thinking, we must evict it. The life of our child and the life of our faith absolutely depend on it. We can’t allow either to be diminished.
Instead, we must be strong of spirit and body, and willing to carry on, leading our child up this mountain, digging into the ground here, clinging to a rock there, moving ever upward. We must look at other children and see them for exactly what they are – children different from our own.
They’re to be loved, helped, enjoyed — but never envied.
Christ is calling us higher, urging us to realize that our child’s inability to be typical presents us a choice. We can choose to love him for exactly what he is and to realize if he were typical, he would not be the same child we know and love this day. Or, we can waste our time and our energy wishing he were someone different..
The real tragedy of the envy is that it gets in the way of contentment and we burn up our days overlooking the gift and the blessing that is our own special, unique child.
