The day United Van Lines shuttled down my twisty graveled driveway, my neighbor walked down an old logging road that connects our properties. His name is Mike, his wife is Karen, and they have two children, Patrick and Katie. They are bi-weekenders who happened to be on the mountain the day I moved in. Mike offered lunch. I thanked him, but told him I had already eaten. He then asked if I had plans for dinner. I responded, “I do now!”

The Conrads are marvelous part-time neighbors. Their primary residence is in Knoxville, TN. That evening, Mike and his bobbing flashlight greeted me halfway on the logging road to escort me to their lovely home. I lugged along a bottle of wine. Mike drank bourbon (so Southern), while Karen and I drained the Chard, a bottle from a friend’s vineyard.

Their daughter, Katie, was there that evening. When we met, I was momentarily taken aback. She’s 18-years old, but looks twelve. She didn’t reply when I greeted her. Her mother gently explained that Katie can’t talk. She’s a profoundly special-needs child. I didn’t skip a beat. Nor did Katie. Like most ‘challenged’ people, she’s imbued with an abundance of affection.

Once we were settled in the Conrad's cozy living room, warmed by a crackling blaze in the fireplace, Katie quickly found the crook of my arm, where she comfortably nestled. *sigh*

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Karen told me a story. A friend had once inquired how she dealt with Katie’s imperfections. Karen's response was pluperfect. “My daughter is perfect. She’ll never be tempted by drugs, she’ll never be a truant, she will never have an unwanted pregnancy, she’ll never suffer angst, etc.” I confess I might be reinventing some of Karen’s observations, but her focus, her words, were sacred. Karen continued to tell her friend, “Katie is perfect. She knows and gives only love.”

Good heavens. Instantly, Karen became my Goddess of Wisdom.

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Amidst ministering Katie and her numerous seizures, we nary blinked an eye, and spent a marvelous evening, acquainting.

Dinner was superb – outdone only by the superb company.

Later that evening, after Mike escorted me home, I set my head upon my pillow and thanked the Universe for all my blessings, which included the Conrads. I prayed my heart could become as unconditional and pure as Katie’s. Quite frankly, that’s too big of a prayer – I’m doomed. Only children like Katie are given that gift – they richly define the true meaning of heart.

Challenged? My foot.

xoxo