Choices...

The past few days have been a bit rubbish for me emotionally. Since Sunday evening I’ve been feeling a bit down... a bit angry... a bit sorry for myself... a bit fed up with everything.

You know those moments. The “poor me” times when you feel all unfocused and unsure of what’s going on or what the meaning of anything is any more.

I came to work this morning feeling exactly like that. Didn’t want to do anything... Couldn’t be arsed... Didn’t know why I do the job I do... Why I do anything that I do really...

A bit down about valentines day this week and what it means for me – or doesn’t mean for me, as the case may be.

I opened up Outlook, expecting the usual deluge of “I want this” and “Do this for me” type emails, to find tucked amongst the debris, the following little gem from one of my colleagues at the Learning Disability Team where I work.

The story within this email actually made me stop and look at the way I was thinking about things and remember that everything really does happen for a reason – even if we can’t really see what that reason is.

So, being the kind, thoughtful person that I am, I thought I would share it with you all – you lucky people. It's long... but persevere!

....At a fundraising dinner for a school that serves learning-disabled children, the father of one of the students delivered a speech that will never be forgotten by those who attended.

After extolling the virtues of 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 realise 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 disability.

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. 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.

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, recognising 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 ball and could have easily thrown it 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!" 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... 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!"...

And for me – although the content of the story itself bears little relevance to what is happening in my life right now - the message does.

I’d like to think that the reason this particular (and unusual) story was sitting in my inbox this morning was to make me realise that actually, I am lucky. Even with all the things that are going on in my life at the moment – although much of it seems really unfair and I can’t see the reason for it – they are all part of a much bigger picture that maybe I just can't quite see yet.

And really, EVERYTHING does happen for a reason.