A Boy Named Silas: The First Five Years Page 8

  Isn’t It Ironic?

  A few days ago, the boys and I read the story of Esther in one of their little reader Bibles. We ended up talking quite a bit about irony (as in, isn’t it ironic that Haman got hanged on the very same gallows he built for Mordecai?). Granted, irony is a hard concept to teach to a first-grader, preschooler, and toddler, so since then I’ve been keeping my eyes open for any example of irony that comes our way so I can point it out to them.

  There is one recent example of irony, however, that I will not be sharing with the boys: Silas, who spent so many years wanting to eat, is surprisingly reluctant now that we have the official go-ahead from his therapists to feed him purred food at home.

  Feed Silas at home? I know, I know. This is the moment Scott and I have been waiting, quite literally, Silas’ whole life for. There was a point at which I was convinced Silas would outgrow his feeding tube by the time he was three. That certainly didn’t happen, and so I put hope on the back burner (the way back burner) and stopped waiting for any huge changes. Maybe by the time he was an adult he’d have the whole swallowing thing figured out, but even if he didn’t, I knew Silas could still grow up to be an independent, normal-functioning citizen. (Maybe God would grant him a wife who hated to cook and grocery shop, and their match would be heaven-ordained.)

  A few months ago Silas went in for his yearly swallow study, and I was too beat down to go in with any hope. I figured this swallow study would be like all the others: a painful reminder that my son’s swallowing mechanisms were still just as faulty as ever.

  When I came home and reported that Silas could actually start eating with his therapists, my husband expected me to be jumping up and down with ecstasy. Mostly, I just felt drained. I knew this was a huge step for Silas, but I also knew that once Silas started eating twice a week with his therapists it would just be harder for him when he couldn’t eat with us whenever he felt like it.

  Weeks passed, and Silas’ therapists said he was making good progress with his feeding. And then, just last week, we were told that Silas was ready for the next step. We could start feeding him at home. For the first time in the entire dragged-out process, I allowed myself to get really, really excited. We made an appleblueberry cobbler to celebrate, then blended up some of it so Silas could have a whole bowlful. I sat him down at the kitchen table and pulled out my video camera with every intention of plastering Silas’ first real ‘‘meal” all over the Internet.

  Silas picked up a spoonful of pureed cobbler, dabbed it to his bottom lip, pushed the food away and told me he was all done. Ironic? I’d say so.

  I knew enough about reluctant eaters that I didn’t push anything, but I was naturally surprised and disappointed. For the next few days it was more of the same; Silas would try a bite or two of something, and then he was ready to be done. Even when Silas’ therapists came to work with him on eating, he turned down sherbet (his previous favorite) and told them he wasn’t hungry.

  From the day I brought Silas home from his swallow study, I knew his road to eating would be a slow one. I guess the years of waiting have helped me become more patient, because I’ve been surprisingly laid back about Silas not wanting to eat. If there’s one thing I know about Silas it’s that he’ll let me know when he’s good and ready for something. I’ve been offering him little bits of pureed food each day, and each day he seems to be eating a tad bit more. When he’s had enough, he makes it very (very) clear, and I’m learning to respect his boundaries.

  I’ve been working on A Boy Named Silas for quite some time now, and the expectation is that one day I will present it to Silas in book form.

  So, Silas, whenever it is that you are reading this, if you have completely outgrown your feeding tube, or if you have decided just to dabble in bites of this and bites of that when the fancy strikes you, I want you to know that I am exceedingly proud of you. I know that your Father is preparing a heavenly feast for you that will blow your socks off, and no matter how much food you eat by mouth between that day and now, I am blessed and challenged by your courage, perseverance and determination.

  Silas, you are an amazing boy who will grow into an amazing man. I am whole-heartedly convinced that you will continue to give me reasons to laugh, reasons to smile, reasons to praise God, and reasons to stand in awe of the miracle you are ... from this day until the day you and I get to feast together in heaven with our Savior and King.

  Note to Readers: An Invitation

  Scott and I didn’t ask to become the parents of a boy like Silas. The first year of Silas’ life was so stressful for all of us, and it is truly by God’s grace — and God’s grace alone — that our family and our faith stayed intact.

  It was God’s presence that allowed me to rejoice even when my son was on a ventilator. It was God’s peace that allowed me to face each day Silas was in the NICU, and every day after that.

  Do you know this peace? Jesus promises to comfort the brokenhearted, just like He comforted me five years ago as I held my sick little struggling baby. If you don’t know Jesus personally, He is ready to offer you a life of abundance, purpose, and peace — the kind of peace that will carry you through whatever trials might come your way.

  God wants a relationship with each one of His children, but our sin prevents us from knowing God as we should. The Bible says that “all have sinned” (Romans 3:23) and that our sins separate us from God (Isaiah 59:2). We need to be cleansed from our sin before we can experience the healing, comforting relationship our Creator offers to us.

  Jesus is God’s Son, who was sent to earth to show us how to live a perfect life of love. When He died on the cross, Jesus took upon Himself the penalty for our sins. When He rose again from the dead, He broke the power of sin and death in the world. If we ask Jesus to forgive our sins, the Bible says that “He is faithful and just and will forgive us our sins and purify us from all unrighteousness” (1 John 1:9).

  Life is hard, but God promises to help us, just liked he helped our family through Silas’ hospital stays, medical tests, and early development.

  If you want more information about the peace Jesus offers, there are probably pastors and other Christians around you who would be happy to answer your questions. If don’t know anyone near you to talk to, you can send an email to me at alanaterrybooks@gmail.com. I would be happy to introduce you to my Savior.

  Thank you for reading A Boy Named Silas: The First Five Years. Please check out alanaterry.com for more about me and my writing or to sign up for my email newsletter.

  Were you blessed by Silas’ story? Pass it on!

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