March 3 - Carolyn Mack

Shortly after the passing of our special-needs son, Michael, the Holy Spirit graciously pulled back the curtain of my understanding just a bit concerning his uniqueness and purpose in this life. He was born with severe and unfixable heart defects; temporary surgeries prolonged his life and one of those surgeries carried a high fatality rate, but there were no other choices. So, one month before his fifth birthday, we took him to the hospital, University of Michigan, where he underwent his third heart surgery. We knew this would be a tough one and sure enough, he had many complications over many months in the ICU, on a ventilator for much of it and then a long, long rehab, learning to walk again.

We learned during this time that he had lost his hearing and was now profoundly deaf. Neurological damage on top of it made learning extremely difficult. What a brave soldier he was! In his later years, I began to see him as one who speaks a language not of this earth. So mysterious it was to me that the Lord spared his life but now his words were bottled up inside and the sign language we learned didn't help communication over night.

But, like the stars that pour forth knowledge, so do those unique children whose words and speech may be foreign and at times nonexistent, yet they still have much to say. The task we are given, (not only with the "special-needs") is to learn their language, to be their translator or interpreter, if you will. It does not happen overnight and only the Lord knows the dialect they speak. Our call is to walk ever closer to an all-lingual God.

When our blue-faced son smiled and waved from his wheel-chair as people waved back, or we saw him interact with others in a hearing world by producing a matchbox car or small toy from his pocket to engage a new acquaintance, we were the pupils in the classroom. We began to hear the speech that pours forth without words. Our deaf son was bearing witness to Almighty God without a word. Dear friends told us that the first time they saw Michael, they knew he shouldn't be alive. The doctors and nurses at U of M also knew that very well. Michael ran his race and lived to be nearly 32 years old. Without words, I believe God used him to speak to the unbelieving and usher some into the kingdom of God. Without words, his life still speaks to me today. See Psalm 19:1-4