"When Jesus came and angels were all around they prayed for me." He said this while holding up his left arm, which is encased in a cast.
"They prayed for you? For your arm?" I asked.
"Uh-huh."
He seemed so certain. Not a doubt in his mind. At that moment he knew how important he was in the grand scheme of life. He knew he mattered to God and His angels. I treasure these moments. I don't know how often they occur for most people, in our home, with Ian, they seem rare. Or perhaps I'm just not seeing them.
About thirty-minutes prior to the glorious sunset, my sister-in-law came over with her husband. One of the first things out of her mouth was, "Where's Ian?"
Mindi and Bryon love Ian. They think he is adorable and downright hilarious. Most days I'm too mentally exhausted from dealing with him to see any of that. So are my other children. Bryon pointed out that he and Mindi don't live with Ian, therefore he's easier for them to enjoy, "It's like having grandchildren," he said. "You love and spoil them and when you're pooped you can give them back."
I am so thankful for people like Mindi and Bryon. They help me see the positive. Bryon and I were talking about all the funny things Ian says and Bryon told me that I should write them down. Kids say funny things all the time. Because they're kids. They are honest, tactless, and curious. They all want to know in loud voices, "Why is her butt so big?" "What's wrong with his face?" "She smells funny!"
Ian has a wonderful sense of humor. He was born with it. He is always smiling and laughing about something. And Bryon is right. He says funny things everyday. Two weeks ago we were fishing at Tibble Fork Reservoir. Ian was driving all of us nuts. He kept knocking the poles down and dragging the already caught trout back and forth along the beach. "They are my pets. I'm taking them for a walk."
"Hey, Ian, how 'bout if we go for a walk?" asked Bryon. He then took his two daughters and Ian on a hike around the lake. Which gave the rest of us a much needed breather. They were gone for over an hour and I kept wondering how much Ian was complaining and feared Bryon would need to carry him the whole way. I was so wrong. When we saw them coming down the path, they were smiling and laughing. Bryon then related an awesome story.
"We were walking along and all of a sudden Ian held out both arms and said, 'Everybody stop!', so we stopped."
"There's somethin' in my mouth." Ian held out his hand and spit into it. "It's a tooth!"
Bryon took an ordinary experience for most people--I mean, all kids lose teeth--and somehow it became the funniest story ever. We are still laughing at it several weeks later.
After tonight, listening to Mindi and Bryon sing praises to Ian, hearing him increase his vocabulary with words like glorious, listening to him hum the Halelujah chorus while building blocks--"Awleluwa"--I remembered what an amazing son I have. He didn't come to us in the usual way. Ian is adopted. We did foster care in our home for four years and when he came to us at one-month old, shaking with tremors, not able to suck on a bottle, and with poor growth, we knew it wouldn't be easy. Drug withdrawls in an infant never are. We hoped it would be worth it. It is. Tonight I remembered something I'd forgotten. Ian is a gift. My fourth one. Even his name means a gift from God. I'm hoping that this daily journal will help me keep my spirits up. I hope it will help me find the positive, the humorous, and the lovable that is Ian.
