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| I look out thru the window. The kids are all running around, a game of tag. It looks so fun to play. I want to go outside and run with them. But I have these braces on my legs. What will they say? I'm just like them, a little boy, wanting to have fun. Should I go outside anyway? There I stand, braces in my hand, Asking: "Why me?........Why?" Then I start to cry. Mom comes to me, Wants to know what's wrong. "Mom, I want to be just like them." pointing at the boys. "Don't worry Son. It won't be long." "Mommy, What's wrong with me? "Am I a bad boy? "Am I being punished?" "Oh, no, Son." Then she tells me something I'll never forget as long as I live. "Son, your father and I believe that you are a chosen one." "Chosen one for what Mommy?" "Well, God has picked you, our son, as the one to have this disease." "Why me, Mommy?" "Because you can handle this. "The other boys, wouldn't know how. "You are strong." With a tear in her eye And a kiss on my cheek, She says: "Don't worry Son. Thank you Mommy. |