I prayed for you, long before I kissed your brow.
I prayed for you.
Shortly after high school, I became a certified home health aide specializing in the care of children with physical and intellectual disabilities. At 18, I worked four part time jobs. One, in the world of musical theater. The other three, in the world of God's special children. And how i loved that work.
Sometime, near 1990, in a small town outside of Boston, I worked in a house where several young people were placed. There, I met a prepubescent child who I shall refer to as Faith. Faith had Down syndrome. I worked several days per week, with young Faith. I would wager a guess that I spent a year or so, working in that house.
Faith was beautifully built by God. Her extra chromosome, always evident. Her behaviors, exhausting. This beautiful soul had been taken away from her parents. Her earlier years had been riddled with abuse, neglect, and trauma. Despite being in a now-loving home, some damage could simply not be undone.
I learned to laugh with Faith, during those silly moments. I learned to hug her, during moments she would allow the touch. She liked books. She liked songs. She enjoyed meals. Bedtime, however, was generally a nightmare of yelling, outbursts, crying, hitting, kicking, and restraints (they were allowed, and used only for safety). We called her Houdini; despite the restraints, she'd almost always find her escape. Most shifts, if they had involved bedtime, I would leave bereft of energy.
One such night, I returned home as I always did. I retired to my room, thinking about the children so often in my charge. My mind wandered seamlessly to young Faith, and her extra chromosome. I tried to imagine what her young life had looked like. I wondered who her parents were. I wondered why they hurt her so.
Had this child been born the wrong gender? Had she been born the product of rape or infidelity? Had her extra chromosome been unwelcome? Could her parents not find it in their hearts to love her? Perhaps they were unwell and not to blame. But I did blame them. For in my mind, they were monsters. They had mistreated their angel. They had mistreated God's angel. I could not understand.
It was then that I spoke a fervent prayer. I spoke directly to God, in the sanctity of my safe and loving home. In my bedroom, alone, I prayed. I asked God some of the aforementioned questions & bemoaned the parents behavior, the harm they had caused, and my lack of understanding!
And then I prayed for you.
I told God that if he ever had another angel with Down syndrome, who needed a home, to please consider me. I prayed that should that day come, that I be in a position to embrace the blessing. I promised the Lord, that if He entrusted such a precious angel to my care, I would spend the remainder of my life making sure His angel would know how much they're loved. I prayed for God to hear me. I prayed that He consider me worthy. I said Amen. My life went on.
So, approximately twenty years later, when I received word of Josiah's diagnosis, my mind quickly remembered a quiet night in an upstairs bedroom, in somber peace, and a prayer never spoken about. In that moment I realized, God had heard. But more excitingly, He listened. He trusted. He gifted.
Faith. She was the catalyst to one prayer. She was an unknown glimpse into my future. For that, she will forever hold a special place in my heart.
It was all Faith. And so it was destined. My prayer was answered.
And so you see, my beautiful boy, I prayed for you.
I prayed for you, Josiah, long before I kissed your brow.
I prayed for you, my gorgeous son.
I will spend eternity ensuring you know how much you're loved!
