Holland vs Italy

So. A friend posted a story on facebook last night. Maybe I was in a rare introspective mood, or maybe it was just too much past my bedtime, but it got me thinking.

You would think the fact that you are in holland would be fairly obvious. But what if you were either a little oblivious or in some serious denial?

I never thought we were in holland. I honestly thought we were just taking the scenic route to Italy and would catch up with you all in a bit and we'd ride some gondolas.

Honest.

But more and more, lately, I wonder if we really are in holland after all.

And ending up in holland really isn't a bad deal. We've got some killer awesome tulips here, and the sunshine is glorious, but I honestly, sincerely believed that we were taking the scenic route to Italy. And if you believe you are taking the scenic route, doesn't it make sense to keep driving? To not build a house in holland just because you've been renting so long that you've become accustomed to it? At what point do you stop trying to make it to Italy?

And if you do find yourself in holland, but you're in such a remote part of holland that no one so far has been able to definitively tell you whether you're in holland or Finland, at what point do you give up on trying to pinpoint yourself on a map and just start farming tulips even though you're not convinced that Italy isn't the goal after all?

Is it obvious to the rest of you? Can I just not see it because I am so close to it?

I have no idea. So would you do me a favor? Read the story. And then tell me if I should buy the freaking house in holland or keep driving until I get to Italy.

(a story, found on Facebook)

Welcome to Holland
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 out 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....and 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 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.