the nazis don't approve

As I was holding the video camera, I couldn’t help but think about Adolf Hitler. 

Granted, when watching your daughter perform at her first dance recital, it’s probably not the first thing that pops into the minds of most dads. 

But there was Cayla, wearing her fluffy little tutu underneath a pink dance outfit. She was standing in front of a small group of about thirty people and now her song had started. It was time for her to dance.

About 75 years ago, Adolf Hitler believed anyone with a handicap was useless. In fact, he felt so strongly about it he developed an entire program designed to exterminate them. Everyone learns about the horrors of the Holocaust in school, but most don’t learn about T4, Hitler’s plan to better purify his master race by eliminating the “undesirables.” Under orders from Hitler, Nazi doctors killed hundreds of their own people because they could contribute nothing positive to the Third Reich. Wastes of space.

One of Hitler’s undesirables was getting ready to dance, and I had no idea what to expect from her. We started dance lessons with her a few months ago because Cayla LOVES music and we thought it might be good exercise. Little did we know she would soon be practicing her dance moves in the house and tap-dancing in the kitchen! 

There were some good dance-class days and some not-so-good days, usually when Cayla was stubborn or tired. But Cayla loved her instructor Miss Bethany and usually enjoyed going to practice. The french fries from McDonald’s afterwards also helped encourage her to do her best. Yep, that’s right--french fries after exercise. Hey, whatever it takes. 

Anyway, last Saturday was the culmination of any dance class: the recital. When you have a child with special needs, you take nothing for granted and hope for the best. In our minds, there were a few possible scenarios that could play out:

    1. The music starts. Cayla sits down, takes off her tap shoes, and says “‘Oh-ly cow!” which is her new favorite phrase. 

    2. The music starts. Cayla runs off and doesn’t come back. The music is cut and there is an awkward transition to the next dance.

    3. The music starts. Cayla yells “Poop!”--another one of her favorite words--and laughs. It’s awkward because people don’t know whether it’s okay to laugh or not. 

    4. The music starts. Cayla rises to the occasion and keeps up with her dance moves the best that she can.

Gotta get the toes right.

I hit record on the video camera as the music started and aimed at my little girl, out there in front of everybody. 

In sports terms, we’d call her a “gamer.” She absolutely knocked it out of the park. Oh, it was far from perfect. She wasn’t in sync with the music some of the time and had to be reminded of the moves at times by looking at Miss Bethany off to the side. But the little girl was trying so hard to get it right. She was really taking this seriously and was so focused on getting every move in.

Honestly, I was surprised by how quickly my emotions were stirred. Ten seconds in and I had a lump in my throat. A couple spin moves later and my eyes were welling up with tears. Just keep the camera steady. I was partly smiling and partly trying not to make it too obvious that I was crying at the same time. 

Obviously happy with the performance.

When Leah and I got the official word that our baby had Down Syndrome, we wept together in the kitchen. In that reaction, we voiced silently through shared sobs our realization (or so we thought!) that any dreams and hopes we had for our child were lost. You could probably even say that in that moment our view about Cayla and her life and Hitler’s views about Germany’s handicapped weren’t so far apart. In our short-sightedness, we didn’t have much hope. There was pain. Despair. Even some anger. 

But we serve a God who redeems. Not just imperfect people like Leah and I. He redeems imperfect thoughts and expectations. He has redeemed our hurt and anger and hopelessness and has slowly been revealing the beauty of His plan. 

While watching Cayla, I thought of German parents handing their handicapped children over to be placed on a Nazi bus knowing they would never come back. This may just be a proud dad talking tough from behind a computer screen, but right now I’m thinking the Nazis would have to pry Cayla away from my cold, dead hands if they wanted her. 

Ironically, one of Cayla's moves resembled 

the "Heil, Hitler!" salute. Take that, Adolf!

Yeah, our journey has been difficult with her. And there are times when the frustrations don’t allow peace or happiness to be easily found. But we’re so excited about what Cayla is going to accomplish with her life. A successful dance recital is just the tip of the iceberg. 

When she was just a lump in Leah’s belly, we prayed that God would use her in a special way. If the only answer to that prayer is what she has done in our own hearts, then He has already answered. Here’s to many more recitals that Hitler would frown upon.