Every year our church’s youth group has a back-to-school blowout event that just can’t be missed. They gather early in the morning and begin a day-long scavenger hunt that includes taking pictures in front of landmarks (if you can figure out the clues) and collecting items for donation to our local food pantry.

The event grows each year (from 4 teams originally to 11 this year), and the youth group scrambles to pick up more friends and donations along the routes.

Kay and I headed out before anyone should be awake Saturday morning to gas up the car and grab a map. As a team leader, I’d gotten a midnight email from the youth pastor that she had a surprise for us, and a map or GPS unit might come in handy.

There were many surprises in store. First off, Kay’s team (of which I was to be a leader) had some no-shows and got combined with another team. Then, just as I was adjusting to that switch, I was asked to switch teams and not spend the day with my daughter (sad for both of us; as mother/daughter ) Then came the big surprise – instead of hunting around our suburb, we were going to do the entire scavenger hunt in downtown Atlanta.

There was a universal look of shock on the leaders’ faces when the youth pastor announced this in our staff meeting. And immediately you could observe how easily (or not) each person coped with a major change in plans. Some of the people were barely rattled, and immediately started re-planning. Others laughed quite a bit and then regrouped. Still others were visibly upset and shaken as they now had different worries and anxieties about the unknown events of the day.

I couldn’t help but think how this was a tiny metaphor of the curve ball that gets thrown to adoptive parents whose child has unsuspected special needs. Just like the Welcome to Holland story, you think you’re headed to one place; and you end up going to another (much-less-familiar) place.

I was a pretty laid back team assistant to the girls to whom I was assigned. After all, Kay and I had done our own strategizing prior to arriving, and I told her the strategy ideas were all for her to use with her team. My new team was a wonderfully sweet group of middle school girls, and we had a fabulous time. All this was despite it being a whopping 102 degrees in Centennial Park (in the shade)! A large concrete city is not the place to be running around in that weather. But there was no whining, complaining, arguing or pouting. (How often does that happen with a car load of teenage girls?!!?)

What I wasn’t surprised at was how easily Kay adjusted to the changes in the plans. She immediately began focusing on revamping her strategies. And her team placed second in the whole competition. I wasn’t surprised, because one thing that living with a special needs child teaches you is how to be flexible, but still figure out what needs to get done.

The exhaustion part…well, that was today as we both spent the day in the basement, soaking in the AC with the fans blowing full blast. Kay had fallen when they stopped to pick up a girlfriend, and skidded across her driveway, scraping herself pretty severely. So she was sore and a bit swollen today. And I was whipped from the heat.

But I have to say that I’m proud that Kay has such a deep level of adaptability, a skill I know she’s honed through living with LuLu. And a very useful skill at that.