Amid the chaos of this ever changing world, my search for answers to life’s difficult questions becomes lost in the maze of new-fangled ideas. So I often return to the lessons of my youth; the original, literal version. As stated in Ecclesiastes, "There is nothing new under the sun." Although the lessons were simple then, a lesson learned is one less future mistake. One, in particular, I recall helped me with an extremely perplexing state of life.

Seven years ago I experienced a pregnancy I did not want. It had all the outward trappings of personal annihilation. I toughed it out, believing it would bring me something good, however alone I was in believing it. The result was a beautiful blond boy. Everyone was amazed by his looks and demeanor. I had a friend who truly believed he was an angel. My happy ending?

Time passed, and my Matthew was losing ground reaching milestones in development. A neurological examination showed that Matthew was going to be quite challenged by poor development of parts of his brain. His prognosis for becoming a self-sufficient man was very poor. The doctors seemed to apply the "two-thirds of a human being" theory to Matthew; he was still the same Matthew to me.

Was I deluded in my happiness with this wonderful creature? Am I blind to what others seem to find obvious?

The answer came as I remembered a childhood Easter Egg Hunt. I was 7. The existence of a Prize Egg made the hunt exciting. If one found this great egg, a cache of goodies was theirs, and I really wanted those goodies. I scurried, searched, and gathered quite a haul of eggs. When no more could be found, we traded for the prettiest colors, each hoping to trade for the treasured egg. I had an Easter Egg Mistake in my basket and cleverly pawned it off onto some sucker.

The leader settled us all down and began checking our baskets for The Egg. I gasped in disbelief when she raised the "Mistake" in the air and proclaimed, "We have the winner!" I had traded away the Prize Egg. I was the sucker. It never dawned on me that the cherished egg would be the different one; not the glitziest.

To my chagrin, I haven’t always taken this lesson to heart. But when it comes to Matthew, I know I have the real prize. There are those who don’t or can’t understand, but those who know Matthew well know from whence my sly grin comes. It comes from the love and the laughter he brings to me. It comes from the freedom from artificial restraints this little soul shows me. His wheelchair is deceptive; Matthew’s spirit has wings. And I’m not letting go of an angel.