Fourteen years ago today, without our knowing it, our sweet Moise entered into this world. I don't know the details of his birth: if he was born early or late or right on time, if he was born in a hospital or in a hut somewhere in Les Cayes, Haiti. I don't know how much he weighed or how long he was or if he had a head full of dark curls. Whether his mother labored long or birthed him easily will forever be a mystery to me. I don't know anything except that Moise was born to change my life.
On this day fourteen years ago God knew that he would work out all the details, as only God can do, to bring Moise out of poverty, across the ocean, to this little central Illinois town and into our arms. God knew what I did not-- that this child, born to another woman, would be my son.
It's incomprehensible. A truth that I still sometimes cannot wrap my mind around.
Moise doesn't seem like a fourteen year old. He is a little child-old man-teenager. He is indeed a teenager. He has raging hormones with attitude, occasional acne and the beginnings of facial hair to prove it. But in his heart and mind he is a little child, a very little child. So pure, so innocent, so sweet. He loves Goldfish, and fruit snacks, watches "Baby Einstein" and plays with light up toys that play music. I still have to remind him to say "Hello" or "ByeBye" or "Thank You." And yet, his body is so much like that of an old man. His eye sight and hearing have failed him. His body groans and grumbles at every move and he delights in the feel of his bed at the end of every long day. He is a little boy with teenaged hormones in the body of a very old man.
Moise doesn't care about his birthday or Christmas or any other cause for celebration. To him, every day is the same. He wakes up in the morning, goes to sleep at night and spends the time in between doing the same things he always does. We've given up buying lots of gifts for him. He doesn't want them anyway. He can't see them or doesn't know what to do with them, or just plain doesn't care about them. We bought him a set of K-Nex for Christmas which he cast aside after a few minutes of trying to see the pieces and Grant ended up putting them together. Still, we try to make his day special in a Moise sort of way. The sun was shining so I bundled him well for a few minutes on his beloved swing. We let him go most of the day without the hated shoes and AFO's (Ankle and Foot braces). For dinner, we deliberated between what we thought would be his pick of places to eat: McDonalds or Culvers. We opted for Culvers and his chicken strip value meal was the best thing money could buy for him.
His birthday means far more to me than it ever will to him. For me it is a time of reflecting on all that Moise is and all that he means to me, to my life. Moise has taught me some of the greatest, most valuable lessons of my life. Today I realized that somewhere over the course of the past fourteen years, Moise has become my own little hero. He is so strong, so resilient, so accepting of whatever hard things come his way. He faces every new challenge without complaint. And he loves......so perfectly, so unconditionally. In so many ways, I wish that I was more like him.
Happy Birthday Moise. I love you more than words can ever tell.
God is good, all the time.