Two Choices, Warning Tear Jerker

[bigfrank Administrator Find all posts View Profile Close bigfrank]

A very touching story......... I am not sure if it is true as I received it in my email address. It is a tear jerker.


Two Choices

What would you do?....you make the choice. Don't look for a punch line, there isn't one. Read it anyway. My question is: Would you have made the same choice?

At a fundraising dinner for a school that serves learning-disabled children, the father of one of the students delivered a speech that would never be forgotten by all who attended. After extolling the school and its dedicated staff, he offered a question: "When not interfered with by outside influences, everything nature does is done with perfection. Yet my son, Shay, cannot learn things as other children do.. He cannot understand things as other children do. Where is the natural order of things in my son?"

The audience was stilled by the query.

The father continued. "I believe that when a child like Shay, physically and mentally handicapped comes into the world, an opportunity to realize true human nature presents itself, and it comes in the way other people treat that child."

Then he told the following story:

Shay and his father had walked past a park where some boys Shay knew were playing baseball. Shay asked, "Do you think they'll let me play?" Shay's father knew that most of the boys would not want someone like Shay on their team, but the father also understood that if his son were allowed to play, it would give him a much-needed sense of belonging and some confidence to be accepted by others in spite of his handicaps.

Shay's father approached one of the boys on the field and asked (not expecting much) if Shay could play. The boy looked around for guidance and said, "We're losing by six runs and the game is in the eighth inning. I guess he can be on our team and we'll try to put him in to bat in the ninth inning."

Shay struggled over to the team's bench and, with a broad smile, put on a team shirt. His Father watched with a small tear in his eye and warmth in his heart. The boys saw the father's joy at his son being accepted. In the bottom of the eighth inning, Shay's team scored a few runs but was still behind by three. In the top of the ninth inning, Shay put on a glove and played in the right field. Even though no hits came his way, he was obviously ecstatic just to be in the game and on the field, grinning from ear to ear as his father waved to him from the stands. In the bottom of the ninth inning, Shay's team scored again. Now, with two outs and the bases loaded, the potential winning run was on base and Shay was scheduled to be next at bat.

At this juncture, do they let Shay bat and give away their chance to win the game? Surprisingly, Shay was given the bat. Everyone knew that a hit was all but impossible because Shay didn't even know how to hold the bat properly, much less connect with the ball.

However, as Shay stepped up to the plate, the pitcher, recognizing that the other team was putting winning aside for this moment in Shay's life, moved in a few steps to lob the ball in softly so Shay could at least make contact. The first pitch came and Shay swung clumsily and missed. The pitcher again took a few steps forward to toss the ball softly towards Shay. As the pitch came in, Shay swung at the ball and hit a slow ground ball right back to the pitcher.

The game would now be over. The pitcher picked up the soft grounder and could have easily thrown the ball to the first baseman. Shay would have been out and that would have been the end of the game.

Instead, the pitcher threw the ball right over the first baseman's head, out of reach of all team mates. Everyone from the stands and both teams started yelling, "Shay, run to first! Run to first!" Never in his life had Shay ever run that far, but he made it to first base. He scampered down the baseline, wide-eyed and startled.

Everyone yelled, "Run to second, run to second!" Catching his breath, Shay awkwardly ran towards second, gleaming and struggling to make it to the base. By the time Shay rounded towards second base, the right fielder had the ball ... the smallest guy on their team who now had his first chance to be the hero for his team. He could have thrown the ball to the second-baseman for the tag, but he understood the pitcher's intentions so he, too, intentionally threw the ball high and far over the third-baseman's head. Shay ran toward third base deliriously as the runners ahead of him circled the bases toward home.

All were screaming, "Shay, Shay, Shay, all the Way Shay"

Shay reached third base because the opposing shortstop ran to help him by turning him in the direction of third base, and shouted, "Run to third! Shay, run to third!"

As Shay rounded third, the boys from both teams, and the spectators, were on their feet screaming, "Shay, run home! Run home!" Shay ran to home, stepped on the plate, and was cheered as the hero who hit the grand slam and won the game for his team.

"That day", said the father softly with tears now rolling down his face, "the boys from both teams helped bring a piece of true love and humanity into this world".

Shay didn't make it to another summer. He died that winter, having never forgotten being the hero and making his father so happy, and coming home and seeing his Mother tearfully embrace her little hero of the day!

[Sydney Contributor - Bronze Find all posts View Profile Close Sydney]

Even if it's not true, it's a good reminder of what's really important in life.

[taffy19 Gold Contributor Find all posts View Profile Close taffy19]

I had read it before but it is a good reminder again. It is a very nice story either way, if it is true or not.

[jackio Gold Contributor Find all posts View Profile Close jackio]

That's the story I was talking about in the thread about the learning disabled young man who was attacked!

[3kids4me Super Moderator and Super Mom Find all posts View Profile Close 3kids4me]

From Snopes: The explanation behind the story and an interesting perspective on it that I can't say I necessarily disagree with...

---------------

Origins: The
story quoted above is Perfection at the Plate, a work of Rabbi Paysach Krohn which appeared in his 1999 book, Echoes of the Maggid. Echoes is a "Chicken Soup for the Soul" type work, described by its publishers as "heartwarming stories and parables of wisdom and inspiration." It is the fifth such tome in the Maggid series. Rabbi Krohn says that the story is true and that he was told it by Shaya's father, who is a friend of his. (The "Chush" school mentioned in the piece is the Jewish Center for Special Education on Kent Street in Brooklyn, a school that caters to Yiddish-speaking children of Orthodox Hasidic Jews. )

The true value of any inspirational tale lies not in its veracity (or lack thereof) but in its ability to move those who read it to improve some facet of themselves. As with many other glurges, we find this story's premise a poor one, and its message one likely to do more harm than good.

What to make of an incitement to bestow upon the disabled a pat on the head instead of granting them acceptance for who they are, even when that means accepting the limitations placed upon them by their infirmities? Has a disabled child who has been conditioned to believe he's good at baseball somehow been helped, or has he been set up for a greater hurt when he comes to realize he's been made the object of pity and an accomplishment he'd been praising himself for was just a sham?

Not everyone reacts well to having the rules of life changed on them in mid-game, so to speak. An experience from my sister's pre-school days might help illustrate this point.

As was my sister's wont, some mornings she would toddle after our brother when he headed off to school. She was always greeted warmly by the teacher and set down with crayons and paper to draw pictures (a ruse to keep her quiet) while the rest of the children went on with their lessons. When she proudly presented her drawings to the teacher, they never failed to earn gold stars, sometimes even rows of them! (According to our brother, she was never shy about demanding more stars. Loudly.) Her interruptions and demands were always immediately addressed, and the class learned to regard her as a lovable, if annoying, mascot who showed up every now and then but mercifully never stayed long. ("But always too long," our mortified brother would report.) When she tired of scribbling, singing, and cavorting, my dear sis would toddle back home, secure in the knowledge that this mysterious "school" thing was all sorts of fun, and it would be even more fun when she was grown up enough to be part of it officially.

That view changed on her very first day as a real student. Riding on the bus was fun, but nobody acted all that delighted to see her when she got to school. Worse, there were no gold stars for anything she did. When she piped up to sing a song, the teacher actually shushed her. She was told to stay in her seat instead of running around the room as she usually did. When she demanded crayons, she was told it was time to do lessons and that in future she had to put her hand up when she wanted something instead of just screaming it out. Confused and fed up, she tried to leave, but the teacher sat her back down! She was then told she couldn't leave, that she had to stay there for the whole day. Worse, she was told that if she didn't behave, she'd be taken to the principal. (She wasn't exactly sure what that was, but it sounded impressively ominous.)

That confused little girl grew up to be a young lady who dropped out of school in eighth grade. She never got over the idea that teachers lived to pick on her and that all these rules they came up with served no purpose other than to make her life miserable. Possibly a different beginning might have led to a different outcome: a brilliant, creative girl going on to complete high school and maybe even university. Maybe. But we'll never know because these other what-might-have-beens were killed with kindness before they even had their chance.

As amusing a story as my sister's experience may be, the pain she experienced was real. What that child went through shouldn't be visited upon another, especially upon one already burdened with limitations. Kindness is all well and good, but not when the expression of it sets up the recipient for greater harm later. The less abled don't require our pity -- they want acceptance, to be seen as viable and valuable members of the world. Lying down for them doesn't accomplish this; it just reinforces the belief they can't succeed on their own.

Can a disabled child hit a baseball as well as a perfectly-abled one? No. But can that same child learn to work within his disabilities to the point of achieving real accomplishments he can take honest pride in? Absolutely. And that beats all the pity-driven home runs in the world.

Barbara "killed with kindness" Mikkelson