Scott and Steve, the six-year old twin boys of Mike and Karen Eischens of Victoria, are towering examples of all that is good and precious in the world.  Along with big brother John, the Eischens family belongs to a culture of life wherein grows the sweetest love and tenderness, strength and joy.
If there is also pain and suffering in their world, which there is, it is like pungent fertilizer on their field of dreams.  It's not so fragrant but it seems to enhance the family's growth toward each other, toward goodness, toward God.
A tiny wheelchair parked just inside the front door gives first hint of un-common and extraordinary things in the household.  Frosted cookies and hot chocolate speak of normal things, as do the toys and books and chatter between mother and sons.  With Dad away at work and John at school, the younger boys are getting all of the attention on this particular day.
Steve, the twin with spina bifida and implanted titanium ribs and engaging personality, speeds on his scooter into the next room.  "You come back here!" says Karen.
"What if I don't come back?" asks the little teaser.
"I'll come and steal you!" says the mother, not looking or acting at all like the big bad wolf.  She lifts Steve onto her lap.  "He's getting bigger and stronger," she says.  "He beats his brother at arm wrestling."
Brother Scott didn't deny the arm strength of his brother.  Instead he spoke of football.  "We play two-handed touch football," he said.  "Me and John are on a team, and Dad and Mom and Steve are on a team, and we always win."
"We rule!" smiled Karen.  Steve agreed with his teammate mother and chimed, "We rule!"  It immediately becomes obvious that differences in bone and body do not take away the competi-tive spirit of little boys and human nature.

The twins were born on June 30^th, 1995, at Abbot Northwestern Hospital in Minneapolis.
"I was diagnosed at 20 weeks with twins and was ecstatic," said Karen.  "That happiness lasted three days, when I was told one of them had anomalies.  That's the word they use.  They didn't think he'd be able to live.  But who knows everything except God?  It's nothing you'd pray for, but Steve has turned our lives around."
Steve's spine was open at birth, about one-third exposed between his neck and waist.  "Only God knows why, but it didn't zip up," said Karen, "and his legs don't get the message to walk."  Correc-tive surgery to repair the open spine occurred the same day he was born, but Steve remains paralyzed from mid-chest down.
The little boy also had hydrocephalus, which required a shunt implant to drain the water so there wouldn't be brain damage.  That shunt was placed in Steve's head only six days after birth.
Steve had yet another medical condition, thoracic scoliosis, which was classified as "severe, progressive, and fatal."  In simple terms, his ribs were fused, thereby causing his spine to grow awkwardly.  After exhausting several resources in the State of Minnesota, the Eischens were referred to a Dr. Robert Campbell in San Antonio, Texas.
Dr. Campbell had devised a "vertical, expandable prosthetic titanium rib procedure" which prevents the chest from turning in on itself.  The rib device, which is expandable through subsequent surgeries to accommodate the child's growth, allows the lungs to mature.
Every four to six months since 1996, Steve has had surgery to expand the titanium ribs, which are visible under the skin in his back.  There are two of them, each about eight inches long and about the diameter of thin breadsticks. 
Steve didn't mind showing his life-saving implants, but he did mind talking about them and anything else related to his numerous surgeries.  This particular surgical procedure of implanting titanium ribs and expanding the chest cavity is only performed at Santa Rosa Children's Hospital in San Antonio.
"Steve is FAA Study #32," said Karen.  "He is the 32^nd child out of 150 kids with this 'anomaly' to be picked for this procedure."
"Mom, don't talk about it too much," pleaded Steve.
Karen mentioned the long and fre-quent trips to the distant state, sometimes by plane, sometimes by car, "We focus on the positive.  There are neat things to see in San Antonio."
"I like the zoo," said Steve, always listening as he zoomed through the living room in the scooter his dad made for him.
"I like the trolleys," said Scott.
Steve's favorite Texas lady is Helga Mayo, a hospital auxiliary volunteer.  "She has taken care of us," said Karen.  "She took us under her wing.  She is our adopted grandmother."
"But she's not our real grandmother," said Steve.  He spoke of Grandma Sheila and Grandma Dorothy and Grandpa Harold and Grandpa Omer.  Home territories of the "real" grandparents are Fargo, Fergus Falls, and Tracy.
Karen mentioned other kids whom Steve has met in San Antonio, including a boy from New Zealand and a girl, Linsey, who grew out of her pink wheelchair and bequeathed it to Steve.  Karen said Mike brought it home to Victoria and painted it blue.  It has since been replaced by the bigger yellow wheelchair sitting just inside their front door.
Karen spoke often of her handyman husband who, according to son Scott, designs helicopter engines for Honeywell.
"Mike is our savior in the kitchen," said Karen.  "I'm out of energy every day by four in the afternoon and I'm not a very good cook anyway.  The kids especially like his venison."
"My dad doesn't make macaroni too well," said Steve about his mother's lunchtime specialty, then added, "He hunts the deer, too."
Click here to continue.