She had already given birth to two boys, each of whom were living with the birth fathers’ parents. Now, she was pregnant again and we were heart broken. Our adopted daughter had been diagnosed with Reactive Attachment Disorder, what some are calling Developmental Trauma Disorder. We had no clue why her behaviors were often irrational and angry. When she turned ten, it was through some providential circumstances that we ran across a therapist who identified what was wrong.
At seventeen, she ran off with a man who was several years older. A year later, they had a baby. Three years later, she was with another man and had her second child. Two years after that, we learned she was expecting her third child. Our hearts sunk. We had prayed and prayed she would not get pregnant again. Yet she did. And she was homeless. Her man kept kicking her out of the home and we were not in a position to take her in. Those months were nerve-wracking to us. We could not help but worry about her life, her safety, and this little baby. Particularly since she was on the streets during winter.
It was during that winter that I had published a book on living a life of thanks. God was teaching me so much about what genuine gratitude was all about and would soon teach my wife and me how to trust God and give thanks even for situations such as this. There were many articles, which passed through the computer screen about how gratitude enhances one’s contentedness, happiness, and contributes to a life of flourishing. The research offered hope and encouragement. However, could this fit what the Bible says. That was the point of the book.
Having a third grandchild was a major test for all of us and jabbed hard into our hearts. How could we be thankful about that? Why didn’t God answer our prayers and keep her from having another child? In spite of our girl’s dreams, she could never raise the baby. What will happen with the little one? Is her lack of nourishment or high stress going have a profound, negative impact on the infant? What about the drugs and alcohol? Will she try to keep baby with her while living on the streets in the dead of winter? Will the police find them and place the child in foster care, where the average child lives with seven homes while growing up?
We prayed hard for God to protect the infant during pregnancy and then provide for it after birth. I have to tell you, of the many things I was learning about thanks and gratitude, this situation kept punching me in my gut.. Still, the Bible tells us that his people are God-thankers who are grateful for who he is and what he does.
The scriptures give us reasons that are wider and deeper than tat. God's Word calls us to be thankful for three big broader and profound reasons. What are they? God calls us to be thankful because of God's awesome character (Psalm 33:4-5,20-22), his mighty works (Psalm 33:5-12), and his redemptive acts (Psalm 33:13-19). Okay God, help us make sense of this crisis in light of what you tell us about being thankful.
He did. He showed us from the pattern of the laments in the Old Testament that we could cry out to him, even complain (and I did quite a bit of that) but then make a promise to trust him and thank him in the midst of our calamity. “Lord, you are all-knowing, wise, and gracious. Show yourself through all of this. You have done miraculous things, so please, in a mighty way, overcome the bad in this. Spare our daughter and save this child.” We prayed this for months. I have to admit that I forced myself to make the promise to praise God regardless of the outcome.
Working through the book taught me that God wants us to live a life of thanks. That’s his will and is an overflow of giving thanks, of being grateful to him in all things. It was a profound moment when God revealed that true gratitude and thanksliving is fuel for a flourishing life. Really? Quite so. The book was finished and published in the middle of our girl’s pregnancy. Pretty much everything else in life at the time was worthy of thanks. As long as we could avoid what our daughter was going through and not be concerned about the baby and their future, all was good. Except for that ugly challenge, our lives were moving in the direction of flourishing.
During Thanksgiving season, I had the privilege of giving a short devotional to the church we were a part of. Of course, it was on Thanksliving. The message was short, informative, and well-received. It was a joy to be able to discuss the subject and the book with a variety of people over the following week or two.
At the same time, I felt like a hypocrite because of the mega-trial sitting on our hearts. Was I truly grateful for everything? Grateful for crisis after crisis our daughter put herself in? For the birth of a little child who probably would have physical defects or mental disabilities? For the fact she refused to seek help from agencies who would help her and refused to make plans for the baby after it was born? For all our worrying about her and the baby?
In the last week of February, my wife got a call from our daughter while my wife happened to be heading home but passing near where our girl was. She said she was at the hospital and had given birth to a baby boy the day before in her boyfriend’s bathroom. Mr. Baby was born a month early and was in Neonatal ICU on a ventilator and with a feeding tube. What a major relief the baby had arrived but it was a big heart sink to hear about his condition. My wife called me, turned around, and went to see mother and child.
My wife learned that the little tyke had methamphetamine and other drugs in his system. The doctor and nurses believed it was a good thing he came early because of his condition. He might not have survived another month. For that we were very thankful.
Our daughter told the nurses she had a home to go to and wanted to take the baby with her. Lois explained to them what was really going on and pleaded not to allow her to take the baby home. They would not permit it anyway since he would not survive a day without medical treatment. Talking with the social worker and nurses infuriated our daughter. She would not allow us to see the baby, even though she had left the hospital. We were stumped and continued to cry out to the Lord.
Calling the hospital social worker, the nurses, and then Child Protective Services set in motion the help little boy needed. CPS got a court order to allow us to visit with MJ, which we did every day nearly all day and most of the evening until he was released. The original report from the doctor and staff was not that hopeful. Even though physically he was improving, he might have brain damage. Sitting for hours in NICU, holding, rocking, singing, and caring for this tiny tot was a relief to us. We praised God for his intervention and keeping baby boy safe those eight months.
MJ was improving every day. After two weeks, the doctor said he would be able to go home but with a ventilator. What home? We talked with friends who gave us wise advice about what to do. When the court allowed us to see him, CPS asked us about placing him in foster care. Our initial plan was to have him placed with our friends who had their foster care license. With little boy’s release coming any day, we had to act quickly to make that happen. In the meantime, MJ’s birth father said he wanted to take his son. He was too was homeless most of the time, an addict, and unemployed.
The court ordered the birth parents to appear. The father’s parents were also urged to attend. As it happened, Lois and I were the only ones to show up at court, so the judge awarded us with temporary guardianship. Placing him in our friend’s home would have been a challenge and seeing him in a stranger’s home was even more of a problem. Beside all that, we had become too attached to our little prince to let anyone else take him. So late on his sixteenth day in NICU, eating and breathing on his own, I nervously placed him in the car seat and begged God to keep us safe in the ninety-minute drive home through ice and heavy snow.
After several months and many visits with the CPS workers, his guardian ad litem, our case worker, and the court, we were given permanent permanent guardianship. It’s the closest thing to adoption.
Here we are, in our sixties raising a son. This is not how it was supposed to be but it is what God has given. We thank God for his gracious, merciful, and wise character. We praise him for his wonderful works in this situation, which could easily fill another book. We thank him for saving our boy’s life and by all indication, giving him a healthy body and mind. He’s very much the two-year-old. Every day, MJ brings us joy beyond what we could have imagined and in so many ways, our lives are better because of him. Indeed, you could say he is flourishing and so are we. For that, we are grateful.
