A little boy with significant physical disabilities has had to learn to be brave throughout his young life.
My name is Johnny, and I am 10 1/2 years old. I am in a wheelchair, and I have never been able to walk well. If I DO walk, it is only for shorter distances, and when I DO walk, it is with heavy metal braces on my legs and on crutches.
I am in a wheelchair because I have a disease called muscular dystrophy. I was told I had the first symptoms when I was a year old, and I got my first pair of crutches and my first wheelchair when I was three years old. Doctors didn't think I would live to be the age of five; but here I am now, nearly six years later, ready to be ll in a few months. (My 11th birthday is on the day AFTER Christmas.)
I have had to learn to be brave because I don't get around as well as a lot of kids, and I also have to have a lot of help doing things for myself. I also have to be brave because at times I have gotten sick, and because of it I have had to go into the hospital; and being in the hospital is never any fun, especially when they poke you with needles or tell you "Now, this ISN'T gonna' hurt", when, in real life, it DOES hurt...and BADLY!
I have also had to learn to put up with other kids teasing me because I am in a wheelchair, and that is always so hard when they call me names. I try not to let their teasings get to me, but it does; and sometimes, I can't help but cry at times.
I have had to learn about courage since I was small, and another thing I had to learn was to accept the fact that I am adopted and don't look a thing like my parents. I am light-skinned and have blue eyes and white-blonde hair; and my adoptive parents are both dark with black hair and eyes. People are always asking me why I don't look like my parents, and I have to tell them that I was adopted when I was a baby; and that is always hard. I see nothing wrong with being adopted, but I know WHY I was adopted: my real mommy died when I was being born, so I never even knew her. I DO know I have an older brother, Erick, who lives in New York City; and he is 15 (yes, I have met him before, and I talk to him every week on the phone!), and we both get along very well together when he comes to Tennessee from New York City to see me.
I don't know much about my real dad; only thing I really know about him is his name was Johannes; maybe I was named after him; I don't know, but that is about all I know about my real daddy. He probably left after my mommy died while I was being born; I would like to know more about my real daddy, but for now I don't. Maybe some day I will find out more about him; there is always hope. And that takes a special kind of courage.
So I know a LOT about courage, as you can see. I have learned that courage comes in different forms, and it is because of these different types of courage that I am a better person, and I am no longer so scared or fearful, not like I used to be. I am pretty brave for all I have had to go through in life, and I think I am doing quite well, all things considering.
adopted kids are special: they were chosen to be loved. :) somebody couldn't love them, so they did the hardest thing imaginable, gave them up so other people with hearts and arms held open wide with (((HUGS))) and love could become parents.
I am glad for the description of Johnny I kept picturing him with dark hair for some reason, prolly because my dearest friend when I was little name Johnny had black hair... Excellent write...
God Bless
~Michelle!
