Previous Challenge Entry (Level 3 - Advanced)
Topic: Sanctification (02/19/26)
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TITLE: 1 in 30,000 | Previous Challenge Entry
By Ellen Janson
02/25/26 -
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When I was eight years old, my mom began noticing I walked on my toes, and that when I ran, I hardly advanced forward. She took me to the pediatrician and asked him to watch me run down the hall outside of his exam room. He conceded that maybe something was “off”, and referred me to a neurologist. My blood work confirmed Becker’s muscular dystrophy.
Becker’s muscular dystrophy occurs once in every 30,000 male births. I was very unusual.
It’s hard to see your mom cry. Especially when you know it’s because of you. It’s even harder to see your dad cry.
My parents did everything they could for me. They took me to the best doctors and therapists. They made sure I got all my medications and wore the right leg braces. They never missed stretching my legs at night. Even when they were exhausted.
Maybe most importantly, they repeatedly assured me that regardless of how I felt, I was precious because I was a beloved son of the King.
Still, despite their constant prayers, the disease just kept moving through my muscles - eventually confining me to a scooter.
My Grandmother told me I was “special” because I helped others realize how blessed they were to be able to walk. I know she was trying to make me feel better, but I really didn’t want that job.
I went to a private high school where I won all sorts of awards. Everyone knew me - I was “the kid in the scooter”; the whole reason the elevator was installed. Lucky me. My classmates were always nice to me, but I really would’ve loved to have been invited to a party every once in a while.
I got my driver’s license and bought a (very expensive) specially outfitted van. I graduated from college with a master’s degree in accounting. I found a job and drove myself to work.
It took me two hours to get dressed and out the door in the mornings. I was already pretty exhausted by the time I got to the office, but I didn’t care. I loved the camaraderie. I loved feeling “normal” sitting behind a desk, accomplishing something with my peers.
I now work from home; the bathroom situation at work had become too difficult for me. Recently, I had to sell my van because I am losing so much strength in my arms; I can no longer lift them to pull a shirt over my head. The other night when I couldn’t get the soup spoon to my mouth before losing all of its contents, my mom said,
”Not to worry. We’ll only eat things that use a fork from now on.”
But you can’t eat soup with a fork, and I really love my mom’s white bean chicken chili.
It feels like my world just keeps getting smaller, and more and more things keep getting taken away from me.
My brother just had his first child, my first nephew. He is so tiny. My sister-in-law placed him in my arms which were resting on a pillow on the handle bar of my scooter. I have never seen anything so amazing. When his eyes met mine and he smiled at me, I felt like my heart would explode.
It was a moment of sanctification. I felt totally wrapped, like a warm blanket, in God’s love. I knew, maybe for the first time in my life, that I was indeed special to Him if for no other reason than that He allowed me to experience this beautiful, incredibly sacred moment.
Even from my scooter.
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