My thoughts are clouded with the remaining work I have toward finishing my terminal degree. I’m not sure why it’s called a terminal degree—the truth is I will probably take more classes. Nevertheless, I thought I would take some time to write for my blog.
I’ve noticed something about Caden in the last four years. He loves routines, and he loves God. You know, “God” can be a difficult subject resulting in hoards of questions. He isn’t a physical being, so you can’t see him. Yet, Caden gets the concept with little explanation and without a picture. He even points toward the Heavens when discussing God. He bows his head to pray without reservation. His first signed and spoken phrase was “God Loves Me.” He loves holding the church hymnal. He thoroughly enjoys singing about his joy down in his heart, his little light, rolling the Gospel Chariot, the plight of the wise and foolish man, or God making hippos. I’ve even noticed that he listens during the sermon. I know, because he grabs the hymnal as the minster is winding down. He wants to talk in the microphone after church. Church is an important part of his life. He becomes disgruntled when we have guest speakers. He likes the typical Sunday routine; he needs it to start his week.
Many of you, who’ve read previous posts, know that I vehemently deny God gives special needs children to parents who are deemed “worthy.” There are too many children destined for institutions for me to believe that old story. But, I don’t deny that God works through Caden.
Caden has forced me to have a greater appreciation for God’s creation. He can spend hours watching squirrels, birds, rain showers, flowers, etc. He takes all of it in—except big plants. He’s not a fan of those. Oh well.
Caden reminds me to praise God. When I am busy folding laundry, writing, or cooking, he taps me on the shoulder and signs “build.” That’s my cue to sing about the wise and foolish man. Or, he sticks up one finger and spits on it. That means, “Hit it, Maestro! Satan’s blowing out my little light.”
At dinner, he reminds me to pray. After making sure he actually likes what I cooked, he pushes back his plate and folds his hands. When we are finished, he nods his head in approval. If he doesn’t like the meal, he makes it abundantly clear. He will not give thanks for what he is not about to receive.
He helps me see that God has a sense of humor. I taught Caden all the signs for John 3:16 as part of a church Cub Scouts program. I’m sure you’ve heard the verse. It is about God loving the world so much that He gave his Son….whoever believes will have eternal life. When I taught him the sign for “life,” Caden ran to the kitchen to get his cereal box—that’s right, he loves Life cereal. I am sure Heaven will be filled with Life and Life—just for him.
He reminds me of his innocence. Caden was on a rampage a few months ago, which resulted in two timeouts and frustrated parents. After a few minutes, I told him he could get up from the timeout chair. He stood up, gave me a dirty look, and said, “God loves me best.” And—I couldn’t argue with that. He probably does. I just smiled—the frustration dwindling—and thought, “Thank you, God, for Caden.”
