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Jesus Loves Me, This I Know |
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Dear all,
I have another story about Karl.
Not long before Easter, Bill and I started making the push to teach Karl about healthy foods. We used a book called something like, "Eat Right, Be Healthy," which came with a poster showing red light, yellow light, and green light foodsgreen light foods, of course, being the ones that "make you strong like Papa," I said. "Eat your carrots, and you'll get strong like Papa, Karl!" "Eat your Schweinebraten, and you'll be strong like Papa!" Well, come Easter morning, as Karl and I were snuggling in bed, I told him the Easter news. I got to the punch line. "And Karl, do you know what the women found? Jesus wasn't dead anymore! He was alive! Jesus is stronger than death!" And he looked at me with those beautiful eyes, wide as can be, and asked, "Stronger than Papa?"
Yes indeed, stronger than Papa, though Papa was very, very strong. Strong-willed, for one, a trait flowing through my little boy Karl. We got the results from the MRI, and make no mistake, there are lesions on his brainyou don't need an MRI to know that, for it is very clear that Karl is not as he should be. But that said, the doctor said that it seems as if the area most affected was the section dealing with speech. In fact, she said that the damage could have been a lot worse, and in some ways, doesn't look that bad. Still, no prognosis. I have determined that we cannot be optimistic, but only satisfied. The doctors are, and even use the qualifier, 'very.'
In the conversation, I told the doctor that we were very pleased with the therapists, for obviously, Karl was making progress. "That's true, but his progress is also, and in fact, mostly, Karl." He is already as strong as Papa.
What an engine who can he is. He is giggling much more now, and even anticipating what is funnyspitting a binky out (which we are giving him in hopes of moving him beyond the rooting-reflex stage) to see how far it will go, or making noisy sounds to wake up his sister after I have shushed him. In fact, this morning I told him that I was going to make a funny face. After I did, I said, "O.K. Karl, your turn." And sweet boy Karl shook his head and grinned. He loves it when he hears Else giggle, and he giggles right along with her, even if he can't see her. What a glorious thing. His right arm is much more flexible now, and his hand is opening up to touch textures and press buttons. We all have the sense that he is trying to reach for objects he wants. He is holding his head up quite well, and looking with no problem to the right and the left, and follows movements as well with his eyes, as well, on occasion, with his head.
He still is not moving his legs, though, with intentionality, nor of course his arms. Speaking is very difficult for him, and very frustrating. There is no question that he understands everything that we say, and yet response time is often delayed, and not always displayed at all.
But look at what this little boy has done. I am almost giddy when I think of it.
And as you may have gathered, we are hopeful to be returning home soon. The details have yet to be worked out, but my feet are itching for prairie ground. My spirit is too, for I am fully aware of the support there awaiting us, and my deep need for it. A hearty thank you for all who have offered ideas, money, and or miles to get us home. I will let you all know when we plan to be en route and descend upon Sioux Falls.
I sing a lot to Karl, and like singing Karl Barth's favorite 'hymn,' "Jesus Loves Me." Although you can be theologically nit-picky about whether we know that because the Bible tells us so, or because the Spirit who is alive and well breathes the faith into us, the point remains. Jesus loves us. These days, the lines, "Little ones to him belong. They are weak, but he is strong," carry deep meaning to me.
Karl is weakened right now, but he is getting better. We don't know how long this will continue, but I am still banking on that full recovery (my sister's husband says that a woman at his work says that although I think that this prayer of mine is extravagant in its expectations, she doesn't know why I should stop there. "Pray that he is better than before!" I like that, near-perfect though he was, so I do.). But he is getting better because Jesus is strong. Stronger even than Papa.
(Continued on next page.)
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