Thursday we met Paul’s new neurologist. We were pleased that almost all of Paul’s records had made it to him, and we were even able to look at some of the internal pictures of his head and body. We are most certainly fearfully and wonderfully made!
But, of course, he encouraged more tests. So we were sent from the bright, colorful, cheerful children’s clinic to a hospital laboratory for yet another blood draw.
This was not a happy place at all. It was busy and noisy. The staff were trying to be pleasant but clearly were mostly trying to keep up. The lighting was dim and furniture was functional but not pretty. The worst part was the television – tuned to some artificially happy morning show that was shocking in its banality, with the volume turned up too loud. Dianne said she could feel evil in the room.
So, of course, God sent in some light.
Paul, unprompted, lifted his head off my shoulder and sings as loud as he can:
Jesus loves the little children!
All the children of the world!
Red and yellow, black and white, they are precious in his sight!
Jesus loves the little children of the world!
Then he laid his head back on my shoulder and giggled.