Tell the President!


“Kiara, you’re the leading news story on News24 this morning. People are amazed at what God has done for you. Even the president might have heard your name!”


She racks her disordered brain to see if she can remember his name. “Does it start with ‘K’?”


When I remind her it’s ‘Cyril Ramaphosa’ she smiles and says we should send him some shoes. I try not to look concerned that she seems to be so muddled, but then she reminds me that last term she read a news story that President Ramaphosa’s shoes were too small for him.


“Remember, I told you, Mom, and we laughed about how silly it is to be famous.”


I do remember, vaguely, my brain seems to be recovering more slowly than hers. I google it and sure enough, the media had done an article on his shoes being too small.


Let’s send him a message! We laugh at the silliness. But when I sit and read the Word, I think, why not? He, too, deserves to know the marvelous kindnesses we have received.


We cried out, “Lord, help us! Rescue us!” And he did!

God spoke the words, “Be healed,” and we were healed,

delivered from death’s door!

Lift your hands and give thanks to God for his marvelous kindness

and for his miracles of mercy for those he loves!

Let’s exalt him on high and lift up our praises in public;

let all the people and the leaders of the nation know

how great and wonderful is Yahweh, our God!

(Psalm 107 TPT)



Kiara has a message for you, too, our beloved People Of The World. Her handwriting is now perfectly formed when she is copying sentences - a miracle for today. She copies a verse in her own hand, reminding you to #keephopealive. God knows what you need before you even ask, his goodness and compassion know no bounds.




Today’s miracles include a walk down four flights of stairs and into sunshine. Climbing back up, the physio and I tease Kiara to give us a chance to catch up. She reads a chapter book without pictures, and tells me in a few sentences what it was about. She spells out our names with scrabble pieces - it’s a bit tricky and she needs some help. She struggles through some simple times tables before needing a long nap.


In the afternoon her speech and language therapist is impressed with the way she’s linking concepts to try and make sensible speech. Wrong words are often related to the right words - she calls the shower a toilet and the toilet a bathroom. She asks me why we can’t flush hand towels in the toilet and I explain, ending with, “We’d have to call the plumber.” So when she needs the nurse, she asks for the plumber and I have to correct her gently - it’s what they call ‘errorless training’.


It’s been a good day and we’re upbeat, though Richard and I whisper in the corridors about how far she has to go. But today we can handle it, and she’s done well, and the therapists all seem to think she’ll go the whole way. So we’re smiling, like the doctors, and we continue to hope in this God of Daily Miracles.

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