A few years back the twins and I went to see the movie Wonder. In it a fifth grade boy with disabilities goes to school for the first time and becomes target practice for eleven year olds. Like the book it is based on, the narrative swivels from Auggie, to his mother, to his father, to his sister. We get to slide into their perception of the swirling events around fitting in. Each person has a story to tell. Each aspect has its own truth. 

 

For the first half of the movie it is easy to satisfy that deep need for an antagonist by blaming Miranda, a long time friend of the family who has abandoned them in the quest for cool. But then she gets the microphone, and we find out that this girl too has reasons. Hurts that come out sideways as snubs. Then our case for making her the villain crumbles, and we welcome her into our circle of care. 

 

Watching with my girls, the ones whose life has been hijacked by having a brother with autism, was intense. We held hands in the dark and cried. It did not change anything at home, but it did proffer us that merciful leg up to observe our circumstances. Which is the antecedent to both acceptance and change. 

 

I have not actually watched Moana, an animated flick about a gutsy island girl, but I have heard that there are no bad guys. No Cruella. No Hook. No Scar. Which tosses out the notion that children need clearly defined heroes and evil doers to help them develop a conscience. Certainly the Bible is packed with both.

 

Joseph, Moses, and Daniel followed God's word.

 

Herod, Nebuchadnezzar, and Ahab sought to destroy it. 

 

Rumor has it, though I have trouble swallowing it more frequently than alternate Thursdays, that God loves everyone. Maybe it would be more plausible if I would let go of my fierce grip on the microphone.