in the room next to me sleeps a brand new 20 year old.
the room she is sleeping in is MY room taken over by Jamie shortly after her brain surgery years ago. i live my days in there, live my nights in her room. because she just decided that she didn't like her twin bed anymore. and i might have given in.
that's what little girls named Jamie do to you...they make your head spin and shake up your life a little bit. and steal your heart in the process.
20 years ago...i waited in the waiting room for hours with my Prissy and every other residing person of Albany, GA just waiting for Jamie Leigh Laing to arrive.
20 years ago...God threw my parents a curve ball that they never could have expected.
20 years ago...He decided to show off His faithfulness and love through a tiny baby girl who would live her life proffing the doctors wrong.
i've spent these 20 years watching my parents fight for the helpless. (i think i know where i get part of it from) not just for Jamie but for every child that will walk through Dougherty County's special education program. for every child that isn't gettting what they deserve...they have fought. they've won some, lost a lot. but He has given immense favor.
i've spent these 20 years learning how to REALLY seek God. to plead my case before Him. to go to bed with tear stained pillow cases and swollen eyes. you can read about it in books or study it in school all you want to but until you watch your sister (or daughter) have seizures back to back. or have someone call them the forbidden "R" word. or hear her cry and not know what is wrong. THAT makes you realize at a VERY early age you need Him more than you ever thought possible. and i am thankful for the opportunity to realize that when i was so little.
sitting at my Granny's and hearing her explain to me one day when Jamie was really sick that if we have faith like a mustard seed, all things are possible with our God. it hits you. this isn't just some random uh-oh that happened in the labor and delivery room. this is orchestrated by her very maker. the One who made her, made her perfect.
i've spent these 20 years seeing her prove the doctors wrong. and this past year was no different. Jamie started back with occupational therapy and her strength/flexibility on her right side has grown immensely. she also can walk with her physical therapist holding onto her arm beside her. the doctors said we would NEVER see that. and look where we are.
20 years of anticipating a huge miracle that quite frankly happens daily and i hardly ever realize it. 20 years. it's hard to believe.
do you know the rates of marriage of handicap children are going down? more divorces happen in these circumstances than any other. statistics also show that siblings of disabled children have a tendency to be rebellious, do drugs, and run away.
can i get a hallelujah. if those stats don't do anything but prove how big God has been in the Laing family then...still...hallelujah.
she has excelled. loves people. is so spunky and full of life. funny. loves Cedarmont Kids. (i hate them). i think she secretly understands spanish...the girl changes her dvd's to spanish every single time. and then changes them back. and then back again to Spanish. scared of small dogs. loves to hear people scream. known as "JANIE LANE" in her class by her classmates. stealer of lunch rolls in her class. spoiled by her teacher aides. loved by every single teacher at her school. fakes crying when she wants to be a baby. still sits in my lap. stealer of my bed. nap taker. book lover. plays my daddy's piano (she got all of the musical talents, i'm telling ya). a daddy's girl all the way but a sissy's girl when daddy is at work. loves the movies...mainly for the popcorn and laughing as i spill it. calls me "day." we are still not sure where that came from.
she is beauitfully perfect. HE. MAKES. BEAUTIFUL. THINGS.
so let me just encourage you today, if life is not going like you planned...take a step back and look at the beautiful thing that He is doing. His story is way better. and perfect.
Jamie, you are so loved.
