Miniature Angels
“I want a friend!” my five-year old’s clear blue eyes
showed the pain of rejection. Noah is deaf and the past
couple of years have begun to show what the future holds for
my little guy.
The first few years of his life Noah had many friends in our
neighborhood. Small children don’t talk a heck of a lot and
are content to simply play. As time passed and Noah got to
the age where speech and hearing were a noticeable part of
“hanging out”, the friends started realizing he was
different. Soon no one came to play with my tiny son and he
too began to understand he was different.
My heart has ached and I have spent endless hours in tears,
begging God to send him a friend. “Just one.” I have prayed.
“If he just had one buddy, I know he would be happy.” I have
prayed this prayer for a very long time and my little son
has had to be content with only having friends at the school
for the deaf, where he attends pre-school. Noah has lots of
friends at school, and they are all deaf like him, so this
has been a blessing. But the children at school come from
far and wide and none live near enough to “hang out”. It’s
not the same when you’re five.
He recently began the heartbreaking hobby of writing and
leaving mail on the porch for his “friends”. He would tape
his own toys to the notes, thinking that he could somehow
make friends this way. I often have to sneak outside to
retrieve his notes so that he thinks someone somewhere is
getting his messages of friendship. And I have to admit I
have even “forged” notes left with stickers for him so that
his excited trips to the front porch the next morning would
sometimes net him a feeling of having an unseen pen-pal. It
breaks my heart. This beautiful, hilarious, kind child
deserves to have a friend. Today I got a miracle. Three of
them.
My phone rang and I was distracted with a long-distance
friend and catching up with each other’s lives. I didn’t
notice Noah slipping out the front door.
It wasn’t until my sixteen-year old came home for lunch that
Noah’s absence was known. Panic-stricken, Nick and I scoured
the house, yard and garage… no Noah.
As I searched the house again, my heart pounding with a
million frightened thoughts flitting through my brain, I
began to tremble. A child off on his own is scary enough,
but a deaf child poses hundreds of dangerous scenarios that
gripped me in a panic.
“I found him!” Nick yelled from around the side of the
house. “You have to see this Mom.” I could hear an awe in my
teenager’s voice and hurried around to see. I couldn’t
believe my eyes at first. I thought I was hallucinating.
A few houses down the street from ours, four children were
playing gleefully. One of them was Noah. My neighbor runs a
daycare and three of her charges were in the front yard,
dancing and jumping and doing little-kid things - and Noah
was right in the middle of it.
I watched with tears filling my eyes a scene that most
mothers see every day, but that I had dreamed of and prayed
hard for the past two years. Two little girls and two little
boys who looked enough alike to be brothers chased each
other around the trees, laughing and falling and giggling
and generally having a silly time of it. Tears slid down my
cheeks.
I watched from a distance and sheer joy filled my heart.
Three little kids who have no idea what a gift they were
giving a little deaf boy looked like miniature angels to me.
My heart just filled with gratitude. Watching them, you
couldn’t tell Noah was any different and his laughter rang
with the exact same impishness as the others. I absolutely
wanted to kiss and hug those three children.
I withheld and let him play until lunch time, at last
walking down the street to retrieve my child like a million
other mothers do a million times a day. I felt like I was
floating and my grin was greeted by four chubby and dirty
and happy faces.
“Hi! I’m Noah’s Mommy” I greeted them. I wanted to empty my
purse out and give them all my money and credit cards.
“Is that his name?” the little girl in pink inquired of me.
“I’m Jessica and she’s Carissa and he’s Nathan.” The little
hostess made introductions all around.
“Yup. Noah can’t hear though. His ears don’t work very
well.” I tried to squelch the visions of rejection as I
shared this news with Noah’s new friends.
“We know, but he can CLIMB!” was the simple response. My son
was proudly demonstrating this skill for her. Not missing a
beat, the same little girl asked “Can he jump on the tramp
with us?” Children are amazingly uncomplicated. Overlooking
what Noah couldn’t do in favor of what he CAN do was a
beautiful little lesson all in itself. I loved this little
girl.
Time for Noah to come home, we made plans for another play
date and my heart felt like E.T.’s, lighting up from the
inside, all the way out.
Noah waved goodbye, started off for home and then turned
back around. “Hug?” he signed to the mini angels.
I explained the sign to them and they each stepped forward
to hug their friend. The tears threatened me again and we
made a hasty retreat before I embarrassed him.
“Bye, Noah! Come over later!” followed us home. Noah looked
up at me, his blue eyes huge and with a priceless grin
signed “friends” to me. Holding his little hand in mine, I
said a silent prayer of thanks for three miniature angels.
Susan Farr Fahncke copyright 2003
editor@2theheart.com
I am the founder and editor of 2TheHeart and I love my job!
I am also the author of "Angel's Legacy", co-author and
contributor to many other books! Read more of my work on my
personal page at 2TheHeart: http://www.2theheart.com/susan_fahncke