Freedom

 

 

Joy Le page Smith, MA, BCC

With the approach of Easter, so also does Bethany’s birthday. Thirty-three years ago, this “little teacher” came into my family. Just prior to her birth a rather strange experi- ence occurred.

With very few exceptions, everything I purchased over several weeks seemed flawed in some way. Back to stores I go, over and over, toting my purchases where patient salesclerks make exchanges. This happened enough that I decide to pray, “God, this is strange. Is there message I am supposed to be “getting?”

What was to come was something I could not easily accept. I was soon to face up to my silly perfectionism.

After three sons and three grandsons, our long awaited granddaughter was born. There could not have been a more proud or happier heart than mine. All those precious dreams were about to come true in this perfect little granddaughter for whom I had waited so long!

Then came the call, a few hours after her birth, “Mom, pray for the baby. They think she has Down’s Syndrome.”

I was alone at home when Ted called, which was good. During the next couple of hours, God had “major surgery” to do on this grandmother’s heart. I was stumbling all over what this would mean.

Then the trip to the hospital where Bethany is placed in my arms. All that armor against “imperfections” was pierced by a tiny hand. Sleepy little fingers . . .  what healing they hold. In those moments, all is well.

Sure, pondering continued as I behold this newest memlittle-baby-boy-enjoying-in-mothers-touch-gm2031340689-562074217ber of our family. And, there are fears. But what truly amazes me is how right up to the moment of embrace I wanted to change her. Then the essence of her “beingness” reaches out bringing stillness to my soul. I recall, what inspired the Psalmist: “Be still and know that I am God.” 

Several days later, when the medical testing came back positive we were all fairly ready for it. But during the weeks since Bethany’s birth my emotions are doing some flip-flops. There is denial, anger and depression. I am concerned as to what life will hold for her. Then blessed peace comes in, verging on acceptance. I bounce about from one to the other. Fortunately, somewhere along life’s way I have learned the uselessness of trying to bargain with God, so I skip that one.

Many prayers are said for strength and understanding as our entire family makes adjustments. Praise and thanksgiving are also offered knowing she has love and acceptance in the home God has placed her.

My son, like his mother, grapples with many a thought, many a feeling—yet, he comes through. It is plain to see he will be exceedingly caring and protective of this little one.

Bethany, meaning “house of God” seems to exude love. Everyone clamors for their turn to hold her—right down to her two-year-old brother. We cannot understand God’s ways. His truth reaches deep, “For my thoughts are not your thoughts, nor are your ways my ways” (Isaiah 55:8-9).

It is easy to see Him in Bethany, our “little one who needs a friend to live,” as John Vanier portrays in his work among handicapped children at L’Arche.

Wonder of wonders, each heart in this family has stretched like rubber bands. Now, with enlarged capacity, we can truly receive heaven’s great message … one of life, and of love.

It is impossible to know what is ahead. But one thing is sure. Bethany is perfectly ours. She is God’s extraordinary gift to an ordinary family. Only eternity will reveal her work.

People call it a “birth defect.” Although surely having passed through God’s Hand before reaching us, this circumstance is sanctified, bringing with it opportunities to embrace suffering with love. Bethany, one who is unable to speak, has underscored this message.

Peace and acceptance comes in remembering, “Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways acknowledge Him, and He shall direct your paths” (Proverbs 3:5-6).

Within hardships, adjustments and unanswerable questions, it is how we handle these that tell whether or not we are living in faith . . . truly able to “be Christ’s presence” to one another. It is so easy to fool ourselves.

For me, pride can easily slip in, at points, insisting everything needs to be perfect. Of course being disappointed in myself follows, as I cannot be perfect. Humility comes when I pray to God, “In the midst of all this imperfection I will ever seek Your grace for the perfecting of my faith.”

The events of life bring attitudinal changes—if we are “listening.”

Fortunately, God is unlike the local merchant. He is more interested in perfecting character—than in having “satisfied customers.”

‘Happy birthyday, Bethany”—and “many more.”

It is a day in which to rejoice.