Memorial Box Monday: Romans 8:28

My son is incredibly smart, funny and sweet, by far the snuggliest of all my kids. His whole life, though, he has struggled with a communication disorder. After years of searching for answers, in fourth grade he was diagnosed with orthographic processing disorder. As with other disorders, there are degrees of severity, and his is fairly extreme. He doesn't just struggle with learning to read -- in fact, few reading disorders are strictly that.

Most of us pull information from our brains much like a computer. The information is stored in a particular file, but the processor is able to search the files and retrieve it quickly. My son's brain is more like a filing cabinet. The information gets to a file in his brain (sometimes misfiled). He searches each file, piece of information by piece of information, to find what he wants and retrieve it. Often, it takes so long that he forgets what he's looking for.

When he was little, he couldn't learn colors. He saw each one as separate and distinct, so "blue" was the crayola blue crayon color. Denim blue didn't fall into the same category -- he couldn't generalize. He insisted that they both could not be blue. It took a couple years for him to finally "move" all the blues into the blue file in his brain.

He couldn't "read" facial expressions and body language either. The subtle social cues that help us navigate life eluded him. So often, he'd push -- push -- push, until finally, someone ended up screaming, "I told you to stop!" He was astonished by the reaction, deeply hurt. Usually, he ran to his room, sobbing into his pillows with anger, confusion and frustration. He learned to "read" facial cues, interpreting the non-verbal cues he couldn't understand. When he saw something he couldn't categorize he asked, "What does that person's face say?" I cried countless tears over it. I simply can't imagine having to work that hard to function.

His social skills have improved dramatically the past few years. His reading and spelling are improving, slowly and steadily, with a lot of hard work. We have developed an arsenal of techniques to make it easier. He and I know that eventually he'll figure it out.

He volunteers in our elementary ministry, serving kindergarten and first grade kids with a gentleness few of us have. He is sensitive, watching over those who struggle most. He doesn't want recognition for it. When he gets praised, he simply responds, "It would be horrible if they couldn't..." Whatever it is he sees, most would miss.

This year our school district, like most across this nation, has suffered staffing cutbacks due to the economy. A teacher friend shared her concerns for a couple of her ESL students who no longer qualify for resource enrichment, but really aren't at the same level as their peers, particularly in reading and spelling. I offered to help.

Once each week, I get to work with these two boys. Last week, we studied spelling, using a number of the techniques I employ with my son. Neither of them had scored higher than 30 on a spelling test all year. Friday came. Test day. I prayed for the boys. Late Friday night, their teacher emailed me, "Just wanted to let you know both boys scored an 85 on spelling tests."

My stomach still does flip-flops when I see those words! Do you see it? God gave me my sweet son to nurture and teach. My guy and I have pushed through all sorts of obstacles and barriers so he can learn. God brought my friend and me together, uniting us in our joint loves for vacationing and ethnic European foods. When she shared her need, God moved my heart to offer help. She was receptive to the offer, humbly recognizing that I offered something she couldn't. She wasn't threatened by it.

I've learned so much with my son. I appreciate his heart and determination. More than anything, I am thankful that God is using us to help other people. My son's sensitivity to little kids is a rare gift, God using his life experience to touch hearts that need love most. The boys I'm tutoring, I can only help because of what I've had to learn with my son. The Bible says that God uses all things for the good of those who love him. (Romans 8:28) My son's disorder is no mistake. God is redeeming every struggle, allowing us both to love beyond ourselves. I am truly thankful that this is the road He chose for us.

I've printed the email the teacher sent and putting it in my memorial box. Whenever I struggle with the road God puts me on, I can read it and remember. God will redeem that battle too.

Memorial Box Monday started at "A Place Called Simplicity." A friend of mine introduced me to it last week, and I love it! love it! love it!!! Memorial Box Monday provides an opportunity to remember all the good things God has done. Huge, gigantic things and little things that might seem insignificant. God's word is clear: "Cast every care on Me, for I care for you." (1 Peter 5:7).