Who Are Your Helping Friends?

by Charleen Burghardt

Time has a way of softening our scars. I am finally at a place where I can share my story about my sons with disabilities.

I planned my life, intending to marry after college and then have children, which I did. However, life took an unexpected plot twist when I birthed two sons with a rare disease, Central Diabetes Insipidus, and multiple disabilities. It took some time for me to shake the disbelief and shock, reeling from the impact of having children disabled. I alternated between confusion, anger, anxiety, guilt, depression, fear, and denial and wondered about their future.

Grief became a constant companion.

“Grief became my constant companion at every turn. I crumbled beneath its overwhelming weight and entered a new world of parental grief.”

I envisioned having children who followed a more typical developmental path—though I understand no child is “normal.” Most children, however, reach their milestones on time, and when that didn’t happen, I mourned the dreams I had for them and myself—processing this new reality required time. 

After the disease was discovered, my pediatrician said, “I can’t believe this happened twice.” I couldn’t either.  The doctors explained my sons had developmental delays needing special education.

I can’t believe this happened twice.

Additionally, finding medical answers, medication, and the proper special education was a saga. I stepped into uncharted territory—the unfamiliar realm of a rare disease and, for me, the equally unknown world of living with disabilities. The learning curve encompassed motor disabilities, speech delays, balance challenges, cognitive delays, and unique behaviors. I felt intimidated by the demands, but the need to learn compelled me. Their environment needed to be adapted so they could be successful. I became the medical, therapy, and education manager, along with learning to cook for their special diet. All this consumed my time.

I even mourned when I watched typical children participate in ordinary childhood activities. When other children played games, attended parties, and had friends, it saddened me that my sons’ didn’t have those experiences. Furthermore, my sons were on a different time clock for reaching developmental milestones.

Developmental Lags

As a result, the tears seemed never to end, and with exhaustion, I couldn’t pray much. I doubted whether God heard when I did pray. One prayer I prayed every night was, “Help, God!” Amid all the physical demands and grief, I wrestled with a value system that seemed under construction. The struggle left me feeling unsteady and vulnerable.

“Help, God!”

Most importantly, my profound love for my sons fueled my desire, determination, and energy to give them the best care possible. An existential crisis came when I blamed myself. Did I believe, “Good things happen to good people, and bad things happen to bad people?” Was I responsible? 

Existential Crisis

Also, I wrestled with what I thought about God, became disillusioned with the Lord, and asked, “Why?” The disease intensely shook my beliefs about cause and effect and right and wrong. I was afraid to admit I was angry at God, angry at my religious teachings, and angry at parents who had typical children.  

Often, waves of despair washed over me. Then, I questioned my sense of self. Was I competent? I frequently experienced unworthiness, helplessness, and hopelessness. It wasn’t fair!” The whole thing violated my sense of justice, and I felt cheated. God was not a Coke machine who gave me everything I wanted. Slowly, I adjusted and concluded I was not to blame. y perception of God changed; God didn’t cause their disease.

To compound my heartache, few listened with empathy. My peers were busy with their families and unable to comprehend my sorrow. Some church folks judged me, and others minimized my concerns. I seemed alone.

Few listened with Empathy.

When my sons improved, I celebrated and measured their success from where they started. They worked incredibly hard to overcome learning disabilities.

They became my heroes.

Unexpectedly, God’s provision and protection came in different ways. My parents were the boys’ cheerleaders and saw them as unique and lovable children. I don’t know how I would have gotten through without them or their compassion. My parents assisted me with finances, attended doctor appointments, and watched my sons. My sister and her husband gave me childcare, transportation, and encouragement. My brother believed in me and gave me courage.

The most support came from other parents. It wasn’t until I met other parents with special needs children that healing began. They became my comforting friends, heard me out, were empathetic, and didn’t judge me. Because many parents had older children and learned how to cope, they could give advice and support. They modeled how to manage. Also, they exemplified the verse, “carry each other’s burdens” (Galatians 5:2). Having others stand with me eased my burden and enabled me to persevere, and I was not alone anymore.

Carry Each Other’s Burdens

Another provision came when my pediatrician recommended a special needs school, but it was costly. Baudium Oral School gave me a scholarship; my parents paid for the rest. The teachers and parents showed kindness, understanding, and support. They taught me to express myself, and the school paid for me to attend a grief conference with Dr. Ken Moses, Ph.D.

Another blessing came from a Women’s Sunday School Class in a new church for single women or women who came without their husbands. Their unconditional love healed something inside me, and I began to trust God again.

Helping Friends

In addition, a teacher friend who had a child with special needs provided a sounding board for me. We often shared at work. A neighbor listened and included my sons in activities.

I learned the value of others walking alongside me. One illustration of the concept comes from Kenneth C. Haugk, a pastor and clinical psychologist who introduced the idea of “healing friends.” During his wife’s prolonged battle with cancer, he gained valuable insights into the needs of grieving individuals. This experience inspired him to train people to support others during loss, crisis, or significant life challenges, offering one-on-one care, empathy, and walking alongside others.

God gave me healing friends.

Likewise, the New Testament tells a story of “healing friends” in Mark 12. Four friends desired to bring a paralyzed man to Jesus, who taught in a house in their town. Since it seemed impossible to get the paralyzed man to Jesus in the crowded home, the friends decided to dig a hole in the roof, lowering the mat with the paralyzed man down. These friends enabled the man’s proximity to the Teacher. Jesus saw him and spoke directly to him. Forgiveness and healing came to this man because four friends allowed him to see Jesus. This man’s healing started with his friends. 

Healing Friends

God brought much healing to my scars by sending others to help carry my burdens. Others comforted me and were “healing friends.” The mending began. I needed to listen, understand, and accept friends. These friends were God’s gifts to me. 

God uses others to lead us to healing. 

Now, I can look back and see God’s grace, goodness, and provision.

Dear Jesus,

Thank you for friends who carry my burdens. Help me become a better friend.

Amen.

Who are your healing friends?

How can you be a healing friend?

PostScript: My sons, Joel and Chris, are in their forties. They have surpassed all expectations in accomplishments. Most of all, they are kind, humble, sincere men who value family. Their contributions enriched my life beyond expectation; I’m deeply thankful.

Grace Offers Hope,

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