Welcome to grandparents raising a grandson who has cerebral palsy, ROP, and, just recently, became blind.

Retired and with an ‘empty nest’, we dreamt of traveling. Both of us were thinking ‘Australia’ but, after boarding the plane and falling asleep, we woke up to see rockets blazing in the sky. The sound of war wrapped its’ ugliness around us, forcing us down in chaos.

When we landed, there was a flurry of activity as something was brought on board. Then the crew fled into the airport.

We looked around and saw a child, apparently traveling solo, who whimpered softly. His hands bowed into little miniature claws, his legs turned inward, his speech was slurred, he seemed malnourished, defeated. The light of life was dim in his eyes as if he’d been on the battleground between life and death for all the days of his life. Seeing his suffering, we forgot about ourselves and went to him, fed him, rocked him, fell in love with him.

As abruptly as they’d disappeared, the crew suddenly returned. They behaved as if they’d never left … with one exception.

“Ah,” said the stewardess, “you’ve discovered one another. Good!” With a sudden glance over her shoulder to the captain, she continued. “We’re taking off immediately. It’s going to be a bumpy ride so buckle up.”

“Where are we?” Al dared to ask.

“Afghanistan.”

“But . . . ,” Al stammered.

The stewardess put her fingers to her lips. “Shhh.” Again, her eyes furtively peered around. “This wasn’t in your plans but, things have been rearranged for the safety of the child. He is now yours—cherish him!”

We exchanged puzzled looks but, when we turned to further question the stewardess, she was gone. The strange situation became stranger still when we, again, felt the plane come in for a landing where there was no airport. Lights flashed signaling the emergency exit so Al grabbed the child and pushed me forward. We three slid down the ramp. As soon as we stood up, the plane mysteriously disappeared.
‘Where were we?”

A symphony of mixed and incoherent chatter rose in the dense forests that suddenly zoomed in around us. The roar of the wild cats, footfalls of a herd somewhere nearby, and crashing thunder of water falling— were all audible to Al, our son. My ears heard nothing but my eyes saw others—a multitude of sizes and shapes—peering at us.

Bravely a black native stepped out of the dense darkness that dared dwell in the jungles in the light of day. He spoke but his words were incomprehensible. Our language wasn’t the same.

Our child, now therapeutically whole, surprised us by communicating in this strange language. “He said, ‘Come, we’ve prepared a place for you’.”

We wordlessly followed. ‘This was the Dark Continent? Why should we forge a life for ourselves in this strange, new world?’ These words swirled in my head but my heart knew there were no answers. ‘How did our son overcome being a cripple? When did he learn this new language?’ There were only questions dangling in mid-air, swaying from the branches—high and low, bouncing from tree to tree.

Our hut was well appointed, tasteful, but it wasn’t Australia. There were no Koala, Kangaroos or Joeys but there was plenty of ‘out-back’. Everything was different than what we’d imagined.

There was no way to return, to go back where we came from—at least not with our son. He ‘popped’ into our lives so suddenly from a place of such chaos that he’d withdrawn into himself. We loved him too much to look back so we adapted to the unexpected changes he brought into our lives.

Though no longer crippled, our son dwells in total darkness, day and night. Born with R.O.P. (retinal problems-- underdeveloped eyes--due to premature birth), despite numerous attempts to reattach his retina, nothing could halt the eventual blindness.

Going blind is frightening, especially in the beginning with the abundance of previously unnoticed noises. We came to this land by fate but—slowly--we are learning to appreciate the beauty of it.

Ebony sight doesn’t touch our child’s dreams—where he still sees--at bay. We wander in the savannahs, feel the touch of things we’d once overlooked and watch for an airplane that will bring the miracle of sight to our son. Until it comes, we laugh, love and live as one on the Dark Continent as what affects one of us, affects us all. We are a family that God brought together.

Who needs Australia? Africa is beautiful too!