"What we have here," said newly arrived visitor at my hospital bedside, "is a
case of chromosome damage." Then with that confident announcement a strange
pediatrician turned my world topsy-turvy, plunging me from the heights of joy at
my daughter's birth to the underside of misery.
However, he wasn't finished. "She's got all the symptoms: clubbed hands and
feet, receding forehead, misshapen ears. We're doing tests to verify it, but I'm
afraid these children don't live long. And, oh, yes, they're also severely
retarded." Then he was gone.
So there it was. A strange man had examined my daughter, pronounced her doomed,
and then he was gone. No warning, no chance to ask questions - nothing!
My mind was a swirl of confusion. What had he said? Was my baby dying? Clubbed
hands and feet (whatever that meant!), a receding forehead (did she look like an
ape?) Misshapen ears? Did she even look human? Then through it all, I gradually
realized the reality that my daughter had birth defects.
Then along with that recognition there came the realization that I gradually
identified and would cling to. God not only knew what was going on, but He was
in charge. He had a purpose - and a lesson if you will - and His purpose was as
perfect as His Person!
However, that reality was only momentary because in my bewilderment I soon
forgot that concept as I took off on another mental tangent. For some reason
suddenly I decided to become practical. Strangely enough, my first thought was
what we'd name her.
My mind was racing. Let's see, though we had already chosen her name perhaps
since she was evidently dying maybe we should save that name that for a future
healthy baby. So what should we do about this child? I continued my illogical
thought line, combined it with an unexplained sense of drama, and abruptly
decided that we should name her something symbolic of the situation. I knew
there were other cultures or peoples where families gave their children names
that had an actual meaning that reflected some aspect of their lives, so it
somehow seemed logical to do the same.
Since I had previously made a special study of the meanings of names, I recalled
something that could be the answer: the name "Mary Ann." I knew Mary was a form
of the Hebrew word for "bitter" and "Ann" was a form of Hannah, which meant,
"grace." Mary Ann Adams. "Bitter grace." Yeah, that's it! And it sounded so...
so....right and fitting! After all, I'm bitter about having a child with birth
defects but still I'll rise above it and graciously condescend to accept her.
I've been treated unfairly and victimized, but while I'll accept her the way she
is, I'll do it with "bitter grace." (My sudden practicality included many
unidentifiable emotions, but one of them was certainly self-pity! What was the
current expression? Yeah - I was having a pity party!)
Then among the practical wallowing, came a twinge of reality. Wait a minute! Was
this fair? Why should I let my misery foul up a baby's chances to a name we'd
especially chosen for her? No matter her condition, she was still our daughter.
"Bitter grace"? Oh, c'mon, don't be ridiculous!
No, I decided, she'll have the name we'd picked out and she'll wear it proudly!
"Bitter grace"? No way! And with that, I broke up the pity party!
I was nodding my head as if to affirm my choice when I heard a knock at the
door. "Mrs. Adams, I'm from the hospital office and we need your baby's name for
the birth certificate."
"Her name is Brittany Alicia," I announced and the pity party was over!
After she left I realized - hey, that lady had come in on that that special
errand just as I'd reached my decision.
How come such perfect timing?
Maybe...God at work?
Perhaps...but then...Who else?
So what was His purpose? Why Brittany? Gradually I discovered that His intention
was to change me to serve Him better, and over the next few months, I saw how He
perfectly provided for each step of His purpose. However, the one particular
aspect of that provision that I experienced in the first few hours of her life
that would continue to amaze me was His perfect timing. I experienced this early
with the arrival of the lady at the hospital just as I'd decided on her name,
showing me that He had plans for a child named Brittany and He wasn't about to
let my "pity party" botch up what He'd planned for us.
His perfect timing and all other aspects of His provision continued all during
Brittany's short life. Then as He gradually worked His purposes in my life, I
discovered that the Psalmist had summarized it perfectly: "I want you to trust
me in your times of trouble so I can rescue you, and you can give me glory."
(Psalm 50:15, The Living Bible)
Indeed, as I had "suspicioned" from the first, He did have a purpose and a
lesson and what I learned I would ultimately incorporate into all other aspects
of my life. And what was the lesson? What did He want to teach me? Simple - if I
don't know why something happens, then He does and because He loves me, it can
only be for my benefit and His glory.
Anne Adams thepetgame@yahoo.com
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