Without a Word_ How a Boy's Unspoken Love Changed Everything - Jill Kelly [89]
Every year I get to hold and snuggle a few of the kids, and this year it was Elias, Chance, and Madison. Elias reminds me so much of Hunter when he was little, so holding him was a special treat that brought back many very personal memories. Once he was out of his wheelchair and into my arms, I didn’t want our time together to end. I wanted him to fall asleep close to my heart like Hunter used to. Elias has long eyelashes and gentle brown eyes that penetrate your soul. He fit perfectly in my lap with his head tucked into the bend of my left arm. As I held him for as long as his mom and dad would let me, I ran my fingers through his soft brown hair and gently traced his eyebrows and little nose with my forefinger.
He reminds me so much of Hunter, and his birthday is in February, too. It’s hard, but the joy of being a part of his life, even if only for a brief time, is worth it. Elias isn’t quite old enough to be in The Boys Club yet, but he managed to get some quality time in with his buddies during his five-day stay at the symposium. Elias’s mom and dad are crazy about him, and their fear of losing him is evident. He wasn’t diagnosed with Krabbe disease early enough, so a cord blood transplant wasn’t an option for him. I hope and pray he’ll be back next year.
Chance is my buddy. I have watched him grow into a strong, handsome young man over the past four years. I was surprised at how mature and grown up he looked this year. Chance’s birthday is the same day as my wedding anniversary, and he also reminds me of Hunter—when he was older. As I write this, “Chancey Pants” (his mom calls him that) is eight years old and thriving despite the countless hurdles Krabbe disease throws at him daily. He’s a tough kid and, like most of the young fellas in The Boys Club, Chance was diagnosed with Krabbe at fourteen months—too late to get a transplant. But he’s brave, and also like his pals, he continues to persevere in the battle for his life.
I could feel how much Chance grew over the last year when I held him in my lap. “Chance, you are getting so big,” I told him. “What’s your mommy feeding you anyway?”
Like Hunter, Chance learned how to communicate by blinking once for yes, and while he relaxed in my embrace we had a wonderful conversation. My fingers were drawn to his thick, brown, wavy hair, and my heart was his for a time. “Chance, your big-boy teeth remind me of Hunter. And I can tell you take such good care of them, right, Mommy?” He blinked, and I glanced over at his mother, Anne, and she smiled. Anne is tough and hopeful. She has no illusions about her son’s prognosis, but Chance is so full of life and joy. So they courageously persevere… together. Hopefully he’ll be back next year, too.
Hopefully they’ll all be back.
Madison is from Rochester, New York. She’s beautiful. Madison’s mom always makes sure Madison is dressed in adorable girlie outfits, usually every shade of pink, yellow, and purple. And her shimmering blonde hair is often decorated with fancy barrettes, pigtails, or braids. Madison was born six months before New York State started testing newborns for Krabbe disease. Had she been tested at birth, she would’ve been eligible for a cord blood transplant, which would have made all the difference in the world. But she missed the test. And every single minute of every day she lives, it’s a battle. And yet there’s a radiance about her that is unmistakable.
In the midst of all the suffering these children endure, there is hope and peace. And the love that pours out of their parents is so abundant and unconditional. These are the kind of people you want to spend your time with, pour out your life for—you want to be like them because you know they’re real and authentic. I’m so thankful God brought us together for such a time as this—to love, pray, laugh, and cry together, and to carry one another’s burdens and extend a comfort only we can to each other because we