unconventional

For those of you who know us, you probably know some of Andre’s story.  He was abandoned in Guatemala at 22 months, severly malnourished and close to death.  He was only saved, I believe, by the precious love of his foster mother, who cared for him until we brought him home 16 months later.  He was two months past his third birthday.

He couldn’t talk.  Had just learned to walk.  He has always been tiny and has a permenant flat spot in the back of his head.  He has been diagnosed with Fetal Alcohol Syndrom, Developmental Delay Disorder and he is still unable to write.  He has a very low IQ and it will be years yet for us to know if he will be capable of living independently when he grows up.  He takes medicine for ADHD.

To say he faces challenges is quite an understatement.  Every time we meet with a therapist or a doctor or have tests, I am overwhelmed.  It seems that we continually have bad news or we have to pay an outrageous amount of money that we don’t have.  I’m told he is cognitively 4 years old and can’t function in a normal classroom setting.  Each doctor or therapist is so kind, loving and concerned…and honest.  There are so many things that he needs.  And today, I’ve come to the conclusion that I can’t provide it.

I lose my patience with him.  I expect things from him that he cannot accomplish. I am much too hard on him. I do not have the money to pay for all the therapy and tests that need to be done.  I cannot hire someone to work with him one-on-one like he needs. 

In my super weak, most human moments, I can’t help but think, “What else?”  What else does he have to face?  Wasn’t the lack of love and nourishment enough to suffer?  What else do we have to sacrifice?  Wasn’t it enough for us to bring him home? 

But when I watch him, when I really stop to observe him, I see joy.  I see happiness and fun and a carefree spirit.  I know without any doubt that God designed him to be with me.  Me with countless shortcomings and flaws, Andre with such love and forgiveness to offer.  I see a child whose rewards are far, far greater than I can count and I see a child whose shortcomings are nothing compared to many other situations.

I just have to let it go.  I have to know that we can only do what we can do.  We can give him our very best…pay for whatever we can afford…and beg God’s blessings on the rest.  That’s the very hardest part for this Type A, control freak.  I don’t know how to stop trying to jump in there and make something happen. 

But I’m learning.  And I know that God will grant me what I need.  Afterall, He entrusted this precious soul to my care.  I hope that through Andre, all will see God.  Andre’s very existance is proof of our great, loving God.  And when I figure out how to step out of the story, God will be glorified…no matter what “disabilities” Andre may face on this Earth.