Her name was Dr. Mary.  She was invited out to Cameroon by the largest mission in the country.  Her task was to test little MKs (missionary kids) with learning disabilities.  Test; diagnose; help parents and teachers find solutions to problems.  And by God's grace alone (here is neither the time, nor the place, to go into the details of that) she tested ME.  You see, I have had a "learning disability" for all of my life.  Long years before the term was coined.  Back in the Dark Ages where I grew up, these things were neither known nor discussed.  I just had to limp along the best I could.  But now, finally, after all these years, and after having developed coping mechanisms that have kept you (John Q. Public) from knowing anything about it, I could be tested, diagnosed, and a solution could be found.  And maybe, at my [then] advanced age, I could overcome this hurdle and begin to memorize all those French verb conjugations, and could learn how to know if a French word was masculine or feminine, and all those other things that trip me up and limit my level of French.  (And incidentally block me from hiding my learning disability from John Q. Public in the French speaking world.)  

But God had another plan.  How sad Dr. Mary was when she had to tell me that, while my learning disability was fully diagnose-able, there was absolutely nothing that could be done to help me overcome it.  No medication; no strategies; nothing.  I tried to explain to her that just knowing was extremely helpful for me personally.  The lack of a solution was OK.  I was greatly helped to finally know what my problem was.  But for her professionally, this was a failure.

In all the years that have come and gone since Dr. Mary tested me, I have had endless opportunities to praise God for the way He chose to make me.  He Who makes no mistakes, hand selected me to have the challenges of my learning disability. Lest you think I’ve finally lost my mind, let me share just one little example with you.

Language school was extremely difficult for me. I repeated the “debutant” class three times in two different schools, in two different countries, and I still tested “debutant”. Finally, instead of being a “debutant” for the fourth time, I opted to attend a French Bible school. The idea was that if I sat and listened to good French flowing past my ears five days a week for an entire semester, maybe something would stick. Well, that was my theory anyway. And it wasn’t altogether a bad idea. My French comprehension soared, and remains high to this very day. And I developed deep relationships with each of the eight other students in my class. Their love for this lady, who was older than all their parents, profoundly impacted my life.

But something else happened that semester. Something I wouldn’t be able to “see” for many, many years. You see, as a Bible school “student” I received textbooks. Written in French. Which were of no value to me. But I saw their value for Cameroonians, so they came back to Cameroon with us and became a part of our 2,000 volume library at Shiloh. And if anyone has ever read any of my textbooks, it hasn’t been obvious to me. Until now. When Romeo, our fill-in night guard, selected the next book he wanted to study with me, he picked one of those textbooks. Though by now an old book, it was in pristine condition. It’s a Bible survey book. Starts in Genesis and ends in Revelation. It is deep. It is profound. It is rich. It is an outstanding book. And I never would have been able to know that since I cannot wade through all that written French. But Romeo reads half a chapter (they are quite long) each Thursday night, and then he tells me what he has learned. We discuss it and I answer his excellent questions. And week by week I have the high honor of watching Romeo grow in grace and in the knowledge of our Lord.

My point is this: Romeo only gets to study this Bible school textbook because Mama Alice has a very real, diagnose-able, but un-treatable, learning disability. All glory and honor and praise to my God and King, Who does all things well.