i don’t think this would fit on a shirt…

The other day Suzie and I were at the store and she just had a meltdown. No real reason, I guess just every now and then a gang of neurons in her brain get sideways and instead of having a seizure, she has a total meltdown, typically right in the middle of a store.

This time, like many before, there were a handful of people casting snarky looks at us. The old "can’t you control your daughter…my children would never do that, blah, blah, holier-than-thou blah…"

And so I thought, in situations like this, it might be handy to have a specially-made t-shirt stuck in my pocket, you know one of those with the really clever wording. And when Suzie gets sideways I could just get the shirt out of my pocket, pull it on, and then the shirt could really quickly to explain the situation about Suzie to all the nearby virtue vultures. My imaginary t-shirt would say, in big, bold letters…

"My daughter, (the one you are staring and looking down your little pointy condescending nose at right now) is mentally disabled. She was very sick when she was younger and has a significant amount of brain injury. So please tell me again, exactly what are you freakin’ looking at?"

But then I think, you know, that probably wouldn’t fit very well on a t-shirt. So I thought I could shorten it a bit, make it more concise, and it could simply say:

"Bite me."

Oh I suppose that wouldn’t be very "Christian," so maybe I should just add a little disclaimer at the bottom of the short (in Christian Love, of course):

"You know me inside and out,

you know every bone in my body;

You know exactly how I was made, bit by bit,

how I was sculpted from nothing into something.

Like an open book, you watched me grow from conception

to birth:

all the stages of my life were spread out before you,

The days of my life all prepared

before I’d even lived one day."

from The Message, Psalm 139

Course that won’t fit on a t-shirt either. I guess I’ll just let Suzie’s whole life, not just the moments of frustration caused by the sniveling jackals, tell the story.


Posted on July 16, 2007, in Dad stuff. Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.

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