Tuesday, March 5, 2013

A letter to Cam, because he’s wonderful.


My Cam,

So many things make you wonderful.

You’re wonderful because I can pretty much trust you to shower and pyjamarize all by yourself. I discovered last night that I can also trust you to spray linen mist in your armpits.

You’re wonderful because today you designed an underwater lake. Access was through a secret tunnel in the floor near the dining room table. A special design feature included a super-tube into a pool, ‘for people who follow Jesus and want to get baptised properly.’

You’re wonderful because you stop whatever you’re doing to let Scott hug you.

You’re wonderful because you helped Dad make the broom cupboard.

You’re wonderful because you’re totally into Gummi Bears and you preface your statements with, ‘Behold! I shall magically slice my mango / pass you the shampoo / get Scott out the bath, etc.’

You’re wonderful because today you spent an hour at the Pretoria Eye Institute enduring a battery of up-close-and-personal bright lights and cameras because the pressure in your left eye is worryingly high and you’re a glaucoma conference paper waiting to be written. You were quite excited to be there. And patient and cooperative. Exhausted by the end of it but unwaveringly polite. Uncle Jacobus (Dr Pauw) and Dad agree that you’ll have to have another examination under anaesthetic, so they can check out your optic nerve. But they are pretty optimistic that the raised pressure is because your corneas are much thicker than normal – a normal result of cataract surgery. Still, the whole thing left me flat and sad and like I don’t have the energy to face the fears anymore. And you’re wonderful because you made me pretend-pretend tea in the plastic cups in the waiting room.

You’re wonderful because I got impatient with you this afternoon when you were colouring in a bunny for Teacher Karen – badly. As in, you’re not trying your best come on now blah blah. Then I asked your forgiveness because I remembered that we’d dilated your pupils at the Institute so of course you were battling to see more than usual. With characteristic cheer and irrepressible optimism you said, ‘It’s ok Mom; I forgive you. My eyes are just a bit blurry but they’ll clear soon!’

You’re wonderful because you are wonderfully made – wondrous – wonder-filled – always wondering. And a living God-glory echo of the psalmist: For You are the fountain of life, the light by which we see. (Psalm 36:9)

All my love to you, sleeping child of mine,

Mom

Xx


Friday afternoon madness involving formidable quantities of icing and hundreds and thousands of hundreds and thousands…


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