Visually Extraordinary

I don’t much like the term ‘visually impaired’, though I’ve been using it all the time to describe Cam because I haven’t come up with anything better. ‘Impaired’ sounds so limiting and negative, as do ‘low vision’ and ‘partially sighted’. They seem to put a ceiling on his potential, to clip his wings. I’ve been asking God for new words to describe Cam, particularly because I want him to understand and accept the reality of his poor vision, but I also want him to be proud of his eyes, and never to feel embarrassed or crestfallen when we have to explain to someone, ‘Oh, he’s visually impaired…’. I was driving the other day and it came to me: Visually Extraordinary. His eyes certainly are out of the ordinary – not ‘normal’. But it’s also true that they are part of what makes him extra special, unique, cognitively creative, perceptually sensitive. Extraordinary. I’m hoping that he embraces the terminology and sees his eyes not as the blurry barrier between himself and the clarity of life, but rather as a gateway to deep awareness, appreciation and discernment. I’m reminded of something God revealed to Murray in a dream one night, early on in our journey with Cam. He said we should pray that Cam would live in such a way that others might wish they had eyes like him.

And then here’s a summary of where I saw God’s glory over the past week or so:

Coral and I took the kids to Irene Farm, and I saw God’s glory in cows, greenness, tranquil ponds, doughnuts, scraped knees, tears, wonder. The stuff of little lives.

I saw God’s glory in a Grade 1 class that I visited on Monday morning. The issue of Cam’s schooling has been heavy on our hearts lately, and we’ve really felt that we need to start investigating all our options, even though ‘big school’ is still a few years away.  I wanted to have more of a concept of what mainstream Grade 0 and Grade 1 are all about, particularly in the school environment we’d ideally like to place Cam. I wanted to meet a classroom assistant, and see how many lessons are auditory, and if I could picture Cammy behind one of those little desks, and if his mini TV could be plugged into a Smartboard, etc. So I asked a friend, Lauren Hofmeyr, if I could visit her class. What an inspiring experience… I think there are extra shiny crowns in heaven for teachers who create frameworks of literacy in little minds. To think that today they are learning that ‘dirt’ and ‘shirt’ have the same vowel sound, and that in years to come, those sort of concepts will be the unconscious, taken-for-granted foundations of doctoral theses and business proposals and twitter updates. Man, it made me cry – in a good way.

Scotty has been sick this week, but I’ve seen God’s glory in his resilience and cheerfulness, despite the litres of snot and drool that he has inadvertently emitted… Poor little chap. A result of the snotty nose situation is that he no longer wants to suck his dummy, or sadly, to breastfeed. He is beginning to imitate sounds and gestures, and to communicate, with intentional squeaks and grunts. I can’t be absolutely sure, but I do think that he and Lola had a real conversation the other day. He looked at her and said something along the lines of, ‘Aa-ga ga ga!’ and she licked his head. He has also entered the exciting world of solid food (see messy porridge pictures).J

Cameron continues to say amazingly cute, astute things, like, ‘Scotty can’t greet me. I must teach him how to talk,’ and ‘That’s awesome!’, and ‘Oh my wordy! My enormous tower is collapsing!’ He is also asking lots of ‘why?’ and ‘what’s that?’ questions, and he is seriously testing the boundaries. The other morning he smacked Scott; Murray reprimanded him, so he smacked Scott again, just to see if Dad was serious. He also emptied an entire tin of Scott’s formula powder onto the kitchen floor, then spread it around the house, while I was in the bath… I find myself having to dig very deep for patience…!

‘Not to us, O Lord, not to us, but to your name goes all the glory for your unfailing love and faithfulness.’ – Psalm 115: 1