In the morning I try and write in the quiet after my children leave for school. I have a steaming cup of coffee by my side and an iPod playlist on high as the keyboard clicks away. It’s the calm after the storm {except right at this moment when the dog chases the cat through the living room and a glass of orange juice gets knocked over}.

Getting children ready for school requires skills that really only parents and the top military generals possess. There’s a flurry of socks and underwear and Pop-Tarts as the clock ticks down like a Doomsday scene in a movie. In our house, one child has a near meltdown over his clothing options (more on this later); one child complains about the chores; and another zones out completely as Spongebob plays on the TV. So you can imagine, as the quiet descends upon my house I have the opportunity to decompress and just breathe.

It’s in these quiet times that I take stock in what life has given me. Yes, my life can be hectic. My living room is collateral damage. I can be tired and stretched to the limit and yet, somehow, I find that moment when it all makes sense. That moment of peace and harmony when I can say without hesitation or reservation that I would not have it any other way.

It’s in those moments that I am connected to everything that matters and disconnected from everything that doesn’t.

This week, an incredibly crass Virginian politician stated that children with disabilities were God’s punishment for the sins of the mother. I was shocked and dismayed that a human being with a heart and soul could truly believe something like this. I don’t feel my son is God’s form of retribution, but rather, I feel he is my reward.

Sure, life can be challenging and at times, I have felt pushed to do and feel more than what I thought possible—as if someone pushed me in the deep end and said ‘Sink or Swim’. Somehow I have managed to keep my head above water and channel my inner Olympic Michael Phelps. And when you’re lost at sea, hope and blessing sure are hard to find. Like the sailor who searches for land, we search to find meaning and purpose. And unlike the ill-informed above politician, I know the purpose and meaning of my life and I can assure you it is not God’s equivalent of the Greek Sisyphus.

My children, ALL of my children, make me a better person and give me a better, richer, fuller life. Without them, I would not have the depth of character or the understanding of purpose. I grew up thinking ‘motherhood’ was not part of the greater plan for me; yet I find today that the cloak of motherhood fits me well. I know without a doubt that my life is better for the children I have in it, and Mr. Politician, that includes my special needs child. I don’t feel punished for the child God has given me. I feel blessed to be given the honor and privilege of being his mother. When I look in my son’s eyes, I see no penance—I see the most wondrous gift of all.