Thinking of Myron

Sorry world, but I have favorite people. People who make me smile whenever I see them. People I simply love to be with, be near. People who make me better because they are better.

One of my most favorite people in the world is Myron, my son.

He is the gentlest person I know. He is the most playful person I know. No one laughs quite like he laughs. No one smiles quite like he smiles. No one loves quite like he loves.

Sunday night, I had another very long conversation with the Lord. I couldn’t sleep again, and I found myself pondering Myron, his life, and the many concerns I have for him. I’ll be the first to admit that I’ve long suspected… wrong word… known something was wrong. I knew from when we were expecting him that something was wrong. I even knew what it was.

And I ignored that thinking that it wouldn’t happen to me and to my family and especially not my son.

Those doubts and suspicions persisted throughout his first year, and when we found his crossed eye, I talked myself into believing that that was it. That was what I felt. But I knew that was wrong as well. I’ve always known there was more.

In my conversation with the Lord Sunday night, I expressed my fears and my worries for this beloved son, this person who makes me smile. I talked with Heavenly Father about how much I loved him and how much I wanted him to be happy. I talked about the dreams I had for him as a parent, about the hopes I had for his future. A mission perhaps. A marriage. A family of his own.

Monday morning, I woke with a conviction to see the problem identified, although I’ve always known what it was. Courtney just left the doctor’s office, and yes, I was right. It is as I’ve feared and as I’ve known.

And no… I’m not going to tell you.

It’s not a matter of hiding it or shame or embarrassment. I could never hide, never feel shame for, or never be embarrassed by someone so incredibly wonderful as Myron. He is, even now, one of my favorite people. Someone I love to hold.

Rather, it is a matter of not yet having a full understanding, a full diagnosis, and a full expectation and knowledge of what is to come. When the time is right, I will tell. Now is not the time.

At the end of my last long talk with the Lord, I came away with a testimony that our trials prove us and strengthen us. I came away with a recognition that the Lord sees fit to bless us with trials so that we might be fully proven, fully grown, and fully prepared to accept both the sacrifice of His Son and also the marvelous blessings that await us if we remain faithful. Simply put, I know that the Lord has a personal plan for me. I know that all that He has put in my life is designed to lift me. Perfect me.

As I look at my own son, I know that what the Lord has seen fit to bless my son with has been carefully crafted and selected for his salvation. I believe that with all my heart.

In the coming months and years, it is that believe that will sustain and lift all of us through this trial and the next. And when I go home today, it is not this new confirmed knowledge of what my son will face that will color my interpretation of him; it is the truth that he is now, always has been, and always will be someone who makes me smile.

I love you, my son.

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6 Responses to Thinking of Myron

  1. Travis says:

    Prayers and thoughts coming your way.
    However, from the sound of it, you have not feared it., whatever it is. If you truly have always known, it would be more fretted and had concern for, but I’m not sure that fear is the correct word as you use it in your post. You say that you love your son (and I know that you do), and perfect love casteth out all fear. I suspect you are now just very concerned for your son, but the situation does not sound likee a fearful one.

  2. Sarah L. says:

    Whatever is going on, I’m praying for you guys. When my nephew Isaak was diagnosed with Autism, my brother and his wife were devastated at first. It was a huge challenge, but they have grown in enormous ways and he has strengths that he wouldn’t have if he were “normal”. His diagnosis didn’t really change anything for me. He was still our sweet Isaak and now he would have some tools to finally be able to communicate and have a chance to grow up and have a family of his own. Absolutely amazing kid.

  3. daveloveless says:

    Thanks both of you. Travis–Fear is the wrong word. The tears I have shed have been more over what might have been and the future than anything that has come.

  4. Pingback: Christmas eye surgery and life | allthingswise

  5. Hey…
    I want you to know that I also see Myron as the same sunny little boy. No different. And that won’t change 🙂 Just yesterday Sammy informed me that he missed Myron and that Myron is his “best friend.” Haha, not sure Myron would agree… but all the Dunsters agree Myron is definitely a special kid and that it doesn’t matter to us if he sees the world a little different than most. Cuteness and goodness and itelligence defies logic or diagnosis.

  6. Pingback: My Precious Son Myron: A Diagnosis « the prodigal

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