There is something about Christian. He is so full of life. His world is quiet (we are unsure how much he can hear) and dark (seeing only shapes and shadows) and he is unable to verbalize anything but high pitched squeals and laughter that comes from the core of his being. He is this skinny hyperactive child that loves to jump up and down clap his hands. He has this amazing trust in people once he has identified you as his friend by smelling you. Once you are his friend he jumps up with his hands in the air and a grin on his face and expects you to catch him.

There have been many times when I was doing my work on the ward when I would feel his hand grad my shoulder and he would catapult himself up onto my back. He would just sit there until his mom would peel him off. She was convinced that us white women could not handle the weight of her son on our backs. I think she is right. Well, I think I could not handle Christian the way she handles him. Seeing them together makes me think about God's provision. When He created Christian He knew that he needed a special mom. He needed a woman that was playful, consistent, loving, kind, fast, strong and perceptive. God picked the perfect woman. She is all of these things.