After three months of living with Uncle Batta‘s family， my parents concluded that the move to the United States just wasn’t working out. I was struggling in school， and my parents had difficulty arranging for my health insurance and overall handling the high cost of living in California. There were also concerns that we might never be able to secure permanent residency in the United States. A lawyer advised my family that my health challenges might make it more difficult to win approval because of possible doubts about my family‘s ability to keep up with medical costs and other expenses related to my disabilities.
With so many factors weighing on them， my parents decided to move back to Brisbane after only four months in the United States. They actually found a house in the same cul-de-sac where we’d lived before the move， so all of us kids could return to our same schools and friends. My dad went back to teaching computing and management in the College of Technical and Further Education. My mum devoted her life to my brother and sister and， mostly， me.
A CHALLENGING CHILD
In recent years my parents have been candid in describing their fears and nightmares immediately following my birth. As I was growing up， of course， they did not let on that I was not exactly the child of their dreams. In the months following my arrival， my mum feared she could not look after me. My dad could not see a happy future for me and worried about the kind of life I would have. If I was helpless and unable to experience life， he felt I would be better off with God. They considered their options， including the possibility of giving me up for adoption. Both sets of my grandparents offered to take me and care for me. My parents declined the offers. They decided it was their responsibility to raise me as best they could.
They grieved， and then they set about raising their physically challenged son to be as “normal” as he could possibly be. My parents are people of strong faith， and they kept thinking that God must have had some reason for giving them such a son.
Some injuries heal more quickly if you keep moving. The same is true of setbacks in life. Perhaps you lose your job. A relationship might not work out. Maybe the bills are piling up. Don‘t put your life on hold so that you can dwell on the unfairness of past hurts. Look instead for ways to move forward. Maybe there is a better job awaiting you that will be more fulfilling and rewarding. Your relationship may have needed a shake-up， or maybe there is someone better for you. Perhaps your financial challenges will inspire you to find new creative ways to save and build wealth.
You can’t always control what happens to you. There are some occurrences in life that are not your fault or within your power to stop. The choice you have is either to give up or to keep on striving for a better life. My advice is to know that everything happens for a reason and in the end good will come of it.
As a child， I just assumed I was a perfectly adorable baby， naturally charming and as lovable as any on earth. My blissful ignorance was a blessing at that age. I didn‘t know that I was different or that many challenges awaited me. You see， I don’t think we are ever given more than we can handle. I promise you that for every disability you have， you are blessed with more than enough abilities to overcome your challenges.
God equipped me with an amazing amount of determination and other gifts too. I soon proved that even without limbs I was athletic and well coordinated. I was all trunk but all baby boy too； a rolling， diving daredevil. I learned to haul myself into an upright position by bracing my forehead against a wall and scooting up it. My mum and dad worked with me for a long time trying to help me master a more comfortable method， but I always insisted on finding my own way.
My mum tried to help by putting cushions on the floor so I could use them to brace myself and get up， but for some reason I decided it was better just to bash my brow against the wall and inch my way up. Doing tasks my way， even if it was the hard way became my trademark！
Using my head was my only option in those early days； a fact that developed my massive intellect （kidding！） while also giving me the neck strength of a Brahma bull and a forehead hard as a bullet. My parents worried about me constantly， of course. Parenthood is a shocking experience even with full-bodied babies. New mothers and fathers often joke that they wish their first child came with an operating manual. There was no chapter even in Dr. Spock for babies like me. Yet I stubbornly grew healthier and bolder. I closed in on the “terrible twos” stage， packing more potential parental terrors than a set of octuplets.
How will he ever feed himself？ How will he go to school？ Who would take care of him if something happened to us？ How will he ever live independently？
Our human powers of reasoning can be a blessing and a curse. Like my parents， you have probably fretted and worried about the future. Often， though， that which you dread turns out to be far less a problem than you imagined. There is nothing wrong with looking ahead and planning for the future， but know that your worst fears could just as easily prove to be your best surprise. Very often life works out for the good.
One of the best surprises of my childhood was the control I had over my little left foot. Instinctively I used it to roll myself around， to kick， shove， and brace myself. My parents and doctors felt that the handy little foot might be of greater use. There were two toes， but they were fused together when I was born. My parents and doctors decided that an operation to free the toes might allow me to use them more like fingers to grip a pen， turn a page， or perform other functions.