"Think how frustrated we will feel if he does talk after his surgery."
The words of my ten year old son as we lie on the carpet in Amos' room and he played between us, content in his own silence and happily pushing a car along
the edge of a hand me down parking garage. His words floated over Amos' silky nearly white gold hair, still damp from an evening bath with his oldest
I paused and pondered my response and was struck with the incredibleness of the moment. This is how forgiveness is born, how kindness is extended, how love is offered freely. I swallowed the tears and the anger that had been lapping at my soul since we had flown back from Connecticut the first time and I sighed. What could I possibly say in that moment?
I told him that I agreed, it was really frustrating after so much time of searching for our diamond in the rough. I forced the words that formed by half hearted sentiment that we would not be frustrated but happy and thankful that though it would have been nice to have known earlier, we would be thankful in that moment. I reminded him that we cousin have just as easily not followed the stranger's recommendation on my blog, asked his grandparents to purchase the very expensive plane tickets, meet the purported experts and been given what feels like a wonderful gift.
Hope is an amazing gift; it feels like a fishing line that has been thrown into the clear blue Biscayne Bay and it moves lightly and easily as fish swim around it and every once in a while a fish steals a bit of bait. This time we had caught a fish and were reeling it in, starving for nourishment or really the words that seem to be hidden beneath his tongue. Our fish may get away after all and there may be no more fish but we have hope and with hope comes forgiveness and thanksgiving and we will bask in those feelings, not frustration.
If the words do not come, we will grin and bare it. Frustrated and joy are not synonymous in our family and always, we will choose to embrace the insatiable joy that travels with our Amos.