
WELCOME TO HOLLAND
by Emily Perl Kingsley
I am often asked to describe the experience of raising a child with a disability - to try to help people who have not shared that unique experience to understand it, to imagine how it would feel. It’s like this…
When you’re going to have a baby, it’s like planning a fabulous vacation trip - to Italy. You buy a bunch of guide books and make your wonderful plans. The coliseum. The Michelangelo David. The gondolas in Venice. You may learn some handy phrases in Italian. It’s all very exciting.
After months of eager anticipation, the day finally arrives. You pack your bags and off you go. Several hours later, the plane lands. The stewardess comes in and says, “Welcome To Holland”.
“Holland?!?” you say, “What do you mean “Holland”??? I signed up for Italy! I’m supposed to be in Italy. All my life I’ve dreamed of going to Italy”
But there’s been a change in the flight plan. They’ve landed in Holland and there you must stay.
The important thing is that they haven’t taken you to a horrible, disgusting, filthy place, full of pestilence, famine and disease. It’s just a different place.
So you must go and buy new guide books. And you must learn a whole new language. And you will meet a whole new group of people you would never have met.
It’s just a different place. It’s slower-paced than Italy, less flashy than Italy. But after you’ve been there for a while and you catch your breath, you look around…and you begin to notice that Holland has windmills…Holland has tulips. Holland even has Rembrandts.
But everyone you know is busy coming and going from Italy…and they’re all bragging about what a wonderful time they had there. And for the rest of your life, you will say “Yes that’s where I was supposed to go. That’s what I had planned”.
And the pain of that will never, ever, ever, ever go away…because the loss of that dream is a very significant loss.
But…if you spend your life mourning the fact that you didn’t get to Italy, you may never be free to enjoy the very special, the very lovely things…about Holland.
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Last night my cousin and I walked through a thrift store. It was late and the girls at the counter told us, “Three minutes, stores closing!” We had a quick look around. Yes there was plenty of STUFF. Old curling irons, stuffed animals, vases, my cousin even saw a cross that she said looked exactly like the one she had put in her fathers casket when he died. I was just kind of wondering around. I walked by the shoes and noticed a pair of beautiful hand painted wooden shoes from Holland. They stopped me in my tracks for a minute because I remembered this story. A friend of mine sent it to me about a year ago. We were both beginning our journey to some where we had never been before. I left the wooden shoes on the shelf but thought about them all night long. I thought about the shoes, I thought about the people. I thought about the people that were on their way to Holland long before we ever arrived. The people who traveled there on purpose, so when a blond little three year old boy and his scarred family got off the plane, they would be there with open arms and a map. They didn’t know our names but they were sure we would be coming. I thought about my friend, she was on the same plane, but we wouldn’t find each other until we both arrived. I thought about the dear people that paid for our hotel room and gave us the hope that maybe someday we would make it home.
I had to go back this morning and buy those little wooden shoes from Holland. I had to buy them because I never want to forget this journey. We can see things and meet people in life that inspire us and warm our hearts but if we don’t allow them to really change us, then it’s all in vain. I think “Welcome to Holland” speaks to people across the board whether you have a child with special needs or you are facing other challenges in life. We all have a plane to catch. We all end up in places we never dreamed of going.
Luke and I took the little wooden shoes up to the counter. They lady said, “Hmmm, little wooden shoes?” and I said, “Yes please, little wooden shoes for me!”

Jeremiah 29:11