Porter's Patch

Every once in a while little things happen, and you realize just how big those little things are, and you are thankful that in this huge giant world where we can all feel a little like a spec of dust, there is a loving God who knows us and wants to help us.

This is a story about such a small thing.

The week before we left for Africa we made a trip to the pediatrician’s office for some last minute immunizations (I had forgotten Lucy’s 9 month shots; terrible mom I know…) Anyway, at the office I ask my doc to check out Porter’s eyes. I had noticed that he had started blinking differently, and I thought his eyelashes were irritating his eyes or something. Well, one look by the doc and we were begging our friend (and the dad of Porter’s best bud, Tate) Thom Dutson to have a looksee before we took off for 6 months to South Africa. The week that we left (6 days to take off) Thom kindly and generously picks Porter up from our neighbors (where he was hanging out while the movers packed our house), drives him down to the optometry clinic where he is an eye doc, and checks Porter’s eyes. Now, I cannot stress enough that this trip to Thom's clinic was a big deal. It was Thom’s day off, and I still haven’t seen a bill for the appointment (I’m watching for one Thom, we owe you big!). Turns out Porter has ambliopia, a very severe case of it, and needed corrective glasses and patch therapy in a big way. Same day, we rush Porter to Walcott optical and have him fit for these glasses. Thom quietly goes about the rest of his day, with a “don’t mention it” to my thanks and adulation.

Next, My friend and hero Holly Bludworth drives all over Salt Lake City to round up enough patches to get us through 6 months of South Africa (he wears a different patch each day, pretty handy really). She does this with her four little children in tow, while I run around like a chicken with her head cut off trying to sign closing papers on the house, drop off things we’d borrowed from neighbors and buying cups of coffee for the movers (don’t ask…). Holly’s response to my praise and adoration? “No big deal…”

Last, as we take off for Johannesburg, new glasses delivered by the hair of our chinny chin chin and Porter feeling like a Potter (Harry Potter that is) I realize one very important thing. This kid, being the gregarious social butterfly that he is, would have been squashed walking into his first day of kindergarten with a patch over his eye. Spending 6 months in, albeit primitive, but working eye therapy with mom keeping a close eye on, well, the eye, means that Porter’s need to wear the patch will have hopefully decreased (though not gone altogether) by the time he hits school in Dallas.

Somebody up there really loves that little kid. Maybe even as much as me.

Thanks to all the hands that helped in this little miracle/lesson for me. If not for the doc, for Thom, for Holly, I would have missed out on the chance to see just how interested a kind Heavenly Father is in the life of my little boy.