All Children Are A Gift From God
NRPs (Non Relative Placements) or OPC’s (Other People’s Children) are what the social workers and caseworkers call them, but I call them my children. For more than 30 years, I have loved each treasured “gift” that God has brought.
All children are a gift from God. Many of the children that God brought to us had never learned basic, fundamental skills. I had learned, studied and earned degrees, but nothing from books taught me as much as the experiences of opening each gift of a child that God sent.
Little eight-year-old Sara would not sit down at the dinner table; it was too much for her to understand that she was not supposed to stand and eat with her hands. Nine-year-old Carlos covered his head with his arms when he spilt his juice because he thought I was going to hit him. Ethan, 11, would go into the refrigerator at night, take food and hide it, determined to never go hungry again. One little girl, Marci, admonished me one day when I said, “Jesus Christ is God’s Son.” Marci’s eyes grew wide and she told me that I was not allowed to cuss. That was the only time she had heard His name.
It was hard and wonderful. We celebrated birthdays, training wheels coming off good grades, graduations, weddings and potty training. We mourned when a child was removed by a broken system that thought it was best to move children or separate siblings, even when it did not make sense. We laughed when a roll of toilet paper was used to “decorate” the entire bathroom and we cried when we got the telephone call that one of OUR children who moved to go to college was found shot in an alley.
They were not OPCs. God had brought them to us. We were on an emotional rollercoaster and sometimes I wanted to scream, STOP, I want to get off! We never did.
I am so thankful that God has given me so many children to love. There was a time in my life when I would beg and beg God for my own child. I moved to this country from Labrador, Canada after marrying an American. Month after month, year after year, I would try to get pregnant. It was a time of huge disappointment. I was not a Christian. I believed in God and I felt it was all God’s fault. If He was the giver of life, why couldn’t I have a baby?
Seven years went by. My husband and I had taken in so many children. I loved the children and they brought great joy, but in my selfish nature, I wanted our own baby. When I would get pregnant, I would have a miscarriage. I would grieve over the babies we lost. The doctors said I would not be able to conceive again due to scar tissue. We had no idea that more grief was to come when my husband had a heart attack. Although he survived the heart attack, he never regained his mental capacity. I was 24 and on my own for the first time ever.
Three years later, I was in my last year of law school. One night my life changed forever. I was raped.
A month later, I found out that I was pregnant. I did not believe the doctor when he gave me the news. Why now? Why now that I was alone? I shared the news with my “friends.” Most told me that I would be ruining my life having this baby. They did not see how I could possibly have a baby when I had already been accepted to an intensive international law program at Oxford.
They did not understand. I had wanted a baby for so long. It wasn’t the way I had planned, but my heart had never stopped aching for my own baby.
I was six months pregnant when I went into premature labor. I screamed at God!
This is NOT FAIR! JUST LET ONE OF MY BABIES LIVE! I begged and pleaded. My son was born at two and one half pounds. By this time, 1983, some babies survived at two pounds. His lungs and body were so tiny. I named him JUSTICE.
Every day that went by was a gift from God. He grew day by day, and finally after three months, he was able to leave the hospital. His digestive system had not developed and he had to be hospitalized again and again, but I treasured everyday. The doctor told me again that I would never conceive again.
A month later, I was invited to hear a speaker at a nearby church. I loved learning. I had not been inside of a church in so many years because I just didn’t go for that “religious stuff.”
At the end of the evening the speaker said, “I know that someone is out there. God is speaking to your broken heart. You do not know why such a terrible thing had to happen and you came here tonight feeling dirty and ashamed. If you seek God first, He will give a peace like you have never known. You can just ask and Jesus will come into your heart.” I started crying. How could God want me? I wasn’t a church kind of person. Yet in a moment, I was down on my knees at the altar. I have never been alone since that day.
Things were hard. Being a single mom was difficult. At first, I did not have a job because I had to stay with Justice when he was hospitalized. I could not keep up with the rent, so I lost our apartment. We stayed with different people, and sometimes slept in our car. It was hard. I waited time and time again in food lines and often went hungry to make sure that Justice had something to eat. I cleaned houses and babysat to earn money. It was never enough. Eventually, I got a good job working as an intern for a law firm. We got an apartment when he was eight months old.
When my son was nine months old, I met a beautiful man, Carlo. He fell in love with my son before he fell in love with me. We got married and a few months later, we learned that I was pregnant. Our son Daniel was also born prematurely. He was three pounds but a real fighter.
More than twenty years have gone by. It does not seem possible. One of my favorite ways to spend time is to go “play” at one of the homes where the children live. God has blessed me with so many children to love. One night as I pulled up in the driveway, I could hear the children yelling “Miss Libby is coming.” By the time I opened the door, there were children hugging and hugging me. I couldn’t move because the smallest ones were sitting on my feet and holding onto my legs.
That night as I prayed, a flood of emotions and memories filled my heart. I glanced at the rocking chair that Carlo had given me as a wedding gift. It was called the “fix it” chair. In that chair, God could fix almost everything. We mended hurt feelings, put band-aids on ouchies, talked about nightmares, repaired broken toys and rocked fussy babies back to sleep.
Today Justice is serving in the military, and Daniel is a firefighter. My husband and I have had more than 100 other people’s children in our home and in our lives.
Last year, Carlo and I found ourselves living alone for the first time in our 23 years of married life. He was retired and ready to travel and golf. We made the plans, but one day the phone rang. It was Susanne, who lived with us when she was younger. “Can I come back? I’m pregnant.” She was ashamed and crying. I prayed before I went to ask Carlo. He said yes and before long, we were waking up to the sounds of Alexander Carlo. We hold him in the rocking chair. This time we are grandma and grandpa. After three sets of twins, a set of triplets and a set of premature quadruplets, one baby at a time is a piece of cake.
I hope that by sharing my story there will be a woman who will be encouraged to have a child even if it is not the “right” time or under the best of circumstances. I hope that someone reading this will say “yes” to making a difference in the lives of what may be referred to as other people’s children, but GOD has prepared their heart to love and care for them as GIFTS sent by HIM.
I know that I will hold my babies in heaven some day. I know that even when I do not know why, I know Who will keep His promise that all things work together for good for those who are called according to His purpose.
If you would like to share your story with our readers, please email our Associate Editor at Mindi@GoodNewsTucson.com.
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