My Thoughtful Son: How Jason Sees My Cerebral Palsy
Posted by Jessica Denise Grono
Time has a way of surprising us. One moment you’re celebrating your child’s eighth birthday, and before you know it, you’re watching him grow into a teenager. As parents, we spend so much time wishing away sleepless nights and busy schedules that we forget how quickly childhood disappears.
Sometimes I think being a parent is like holding sand in your hands. No matter how tightly you try to hold on, the grains slowly slip through your fingers.
Jason has always been my thoughtful child.
Even as a little boy, he had a tender heart and an incredible sense of humor. He loved LEGO creations, dinosaurs, animals, and making people laugh. While school wasn’t always his favorite place, he amazed me with his creativity, curiosity, and ability to think outside the box. Today those same qualities are still part of who he is.
One thing that has always stood out is the way Jason sees my cerebral palsy.
As children, they don’t understand disability the way adults do. They simply see their mom.
Growing up, Jason often became frustrated that cerebral palsy prevented me from doing things other moms could do. If I struggled to reach something, clean the house, or complete a simple task, he wanted to fix it. To him, cerebral palsy wasn’t who I was—it was simply something that got in my way.
I’ll never forget one conversation.
I had just been hired for a long-term teaching position after a Zoom interview. Jason happened to hear the good news, and his face lit up with excitement. He celebrated as if he had gotten the job himself.
Not long afterward, I sighed and said, “I wish I could just stand up and clean the house.”
Without missing a beat, Jason smiled and said,
“When God makes the world new again, you can.”
His words stopped me in my tracks.
In that one sentence, my young son reminded me of something adults often forget. He wasn’t focused on what I couldn’t do today. He was focused on hope.
That moment has stayed with me for years.
Living with cerebral palsy has taught my children compassion, patience, and resilience. They have grown up understanding that everyone has different abilities, but every person deserves dignity, respect, and love.
People sometimes ask if I worry that my disability affected my children.
My answer is no.
If anything, I hope it helped shape them into kinder people.
Jason has always had a soft heart—for animals, for people who are hurting, and for anyone who feels left out. He notices when someone needs encouragement. He celebrates other people’s successes and still manages to make me laugh when I need it most.
As he grows older, I know childhood won’t last forever. There will come a day when he no longer asks to spend extra time with Mom or shares every funny thought that pops into his head.
That’s why I’ve learned to treasure these moments.
The toys eventually get put away.
The birthdays become bigger numbers.
The little boy grows taller than his mom.
But the memories remain.
Being Jason’s mom has been one of God’s greatest gifts. Watching him grow into a compassionate young man reminds me that love, faith, and kindness are lessons children often learn not from what we say—but from how we live.
And if there’s one lesson Jason has taught me, it’s this:
Sometimes the greatest wisdom comes from the smallest voices
Add comment
Comments