As I sit here on this Father’s Day in the autumn of my life, I cannot help but look back over the years at the blessings that the Lord has given my family, even before we knew Him. The summer of 1967 immediately comes to mind when I think back to those days of endless sunshine.
There was so much for us to discover in those early years of marriage—each other, our first child, marriage itself, and the world around us.
Already we had been blessed with a beautiful, healthy baby boy (two years old at the time), a new job, a new car, an apartment of our own, and all that we could ask for. The world was before us, or so it seemed. It was a world without limits or liabilities. “Life is good,” they say, but the Giver of Life, beyond any doubt, is even better.
Little did we know that we were about to embark on a journey that would show us just how good God really is.
With the news of a second child on the way, our eyes sparkled and life began to change again. But our life was about to take an immediate turn for the worse.
Joy turns to fear and uncertainty
A few months into her pregnancy, my wife Mary began to feel sick. It quickly became apparent that this was beyond mere morning sickness. Stomachaches led to a constant low fever, and then she started to turn yellow. Hepatitis, we were told. Infectious hepatitis. Very serious.
With Mary barely 20 weeks into her pregnancy, we found ourselves numb at how fast things were moving in the wrong direction. She was admitted to the hospital, and things only got worse as the days went by.
I don’t remember much about those endless weeks she spent in the hospital as I balanced being a dad, maintaining a job, and trying to be at her side. Certainly, they were beginning to wear heavily on me. Mary was being tested as well, with each day bringing more setbacks to her health.
But what I do remember is the day the labor pains started. Maybe the child felt a need to escape the sickness of the body he lived within, or maybe the body was trying to rid itself of that which was competing for the few remaining resources Mary’s body held. But one thing was clear: The two had come to a parting of the ways. The baby was coming, and since the child had not yet turned, it would be a breech birth. Because the science of neonatal care was still in its infancy, the battle we faced would be intense.
Finding faith in desperation
To this day, I can still hear Dr. Bradley as he came into the waiting room, dressed in green operating scrubs. The words he uttered as he knelt before me still echo in my ears 50 years later. “Son,” he said in a kind and barely audible whisper, “I cannot save this baby. It is too early, barely 30 weeks. And, with all the complications, I am not sure about your wife. We will do all we can.”
Was abortion to save her life an option? Not in 1967. That would come a few years later. Would I have chosen it if I knew it would save my wife? I don’t think I would have. And I thank God it was not an option. But at that time, the only hope I had was in the hands of a doctor I barely knew and a God I did not yet know at all. Both were at their best that morning in Dallas Osteopathic Hospital.
Prayers came from a heart broken and were directed at a God I had kept distant. When all the earthly options are exhausted, even the most distant unbeliever will turn elsewhere. And, as I was soon to discover, when we run out of options, God begins His work.
The end of this story lives today in a suburb north of Dallas. We named him Steven. He arrived at three pounds and a few ounces then lost weight to barely two pounds. After six weeks in the hospital, he finally came home—all five pounds of him. The first night, he choked on vitamin drops and was rushed back to the hospital. In the beginning, it took 45 minutes to feed him, and it had to be done every two hours.
The days were long and the nights longer, but we all came through it fine and with increased faith.
Today Steven is 6’2”, tips the scales at over 225 pounds, and is as perfect a picture of health and good looks as any parent could ask for. With a beautiful wife and two sons of his own, his days in that hospital are only a shadow in the past that he will never know or understand.
No choice at all
I often wonder about the possible outcome had abortion been legal in 1967. The thought of what might have happened or been offered sends chills up my spine and brings back the memories of those years now so long past.
Did fate work its way to bring that child safely into this world, or was it the seed of faith that was planted in an hour of desperation? On that day, I had no idea how God worked and how things would turn out. I only knew I was about to lose both my wife and my baby.
Fate or faith?
Even the most fervent abortion opponent might concede that abortion is acceptable for the life of the mother, but they have not been there. They really have no idea. When mankind meddles in what God has begun, there is no certain outcome. Life is precious, life is good, life is God’s and His alone.
Steven’s oldest son Tyler played soccer on a scholarship at the University of Tennessee and transferred to the University of Texas to study cyber security. He will graduate this spring. Tyler married his high school sweetheart last May, and they are enjoying their new life together.
God truly works in mysterious ways; His miracles are wonders to behold. I have seen that His ways are higher and His thoughts are greater than ours. I am very glad of that.
Fate was in the background, I am sure, but faith was in the operating room, and faith alone delivered Steven into our lives that day. The only choice was no choice, and that was the best choice. The very best.
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