A Message From God Special Edition by Retha McPherson

Author:Retha McPherson [MCPHERSON, RETHA]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780768488470
Publisher: Destiny Image, Inc.

A NEW REALITY

It took me a long time before I could muster up the courage to write this chapter. I would like nothing better than to tell you that Aldo has recovered 100 percent; that he is just as healthy as he was before, but I can’t. The road to recovery for people with head injuries is a long and exhausting one. Still, when I think about all the negative prognoses he’s received, his recovery to date is nothing short of miraculous. Aldo can walk, although it is slow going; and because he still has trouble with balance, he falls down a lot. He gets tired easily and then becomes emotional and difficult. I suppose in that he’s just like every other teenager.

Aldo still cannot laugh out loud, but the soft smile around the corners of his mouth brings tears to my eyes.

The injury to his mid-brain still makes it difficult for him to sleep and he often comes crawling into our bed between 3:00 and 4:00 in the mornings. I smile in the dark as I make space for him. When I feel his long legs curling around me, I thank God that he is alive and here with us. Then those long awkward arms embrace me and he says, “I love you, Mommy,” and all is right with the world.

On the road to recovery, some days are better than others. Aldo’s right hand still goes up in the air involuntarily every time he speaks. We are trying to teach him to keep that hand in his pocket when he is around people, but it doesn’t always work. He came home one day with the thumb on his right hand painfully swollen. He didn’t want to talk about it, but after a while the story emerged. His hand had lifted again when he was speaking and a classmate of his nearly broke his finger. The boy explained that he did it because it “irritated” him when Aldo’s hand goes up like that every time.

“What do I say to this, Lord?” I prayed silently. “How much more can we endure?”

All I could do was to hug Aldo tightly to me, get some salve and bandage the thumb. It’s like I said: Some days are worse than others.

Aldo’s one eyelid still droops, but I’m not giving up on any aspect of his recovery. I speak life and trust that God will heal that nerve too.

Aldo speaks slowly and in monotone, but at least he speaks clearly. However, not everyone has the time or patience to listen to him. I have seen the pain in his eyes when people walk off while he’s in mid-sentence, or even shuts him up because they are in a hurry. In moments like these I feel like crying. How many times before the accident did I too tell him to be quiet? And then I remember the months of silence that followed when I was constantly praying that God should have mercy on me. “Just let him speak again, Lord!” I pleaded.

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