Does It Really Take A Village?

I don’t know how many of you are “sports” families but we certainly are!  In Georgia, Randy is probably known for being an excellent basketball player as much or more as being an excellent preacher!  Soon after moving to California he ruptured his Achilles and had to have surgery so his high tops have been retired—for the most part.  I was “just” a cheerleader but our three daughters and son have followed in their dad’s footsteps and played basketball as well.  Olivia and Zach both played other sports so we pretty much had something going on in a gym or at a ball field most of the year during the time they were in school.  Some of our best family memories revolve around some type of a ball!

All combined we’ve had 27 coaches, over 80 teachers, 1 children’s pastor, 5 youth pastors, 4 grandparents, and countless other friends and family who have partnered with Randy and me in raising our children.  I know that a lot of Christians disagreed with Hillary Clinton’s statement many years ago that it takes a village to raise a family but I happen to agree with her on that one!

I’ve always believed that my children had great things ahead in the destiny that God planned out for them.  It would have been near to impossible for Randy and me to instill everything in them that they needed for this journey if we had not had help.  But God, being good like He is, gave us many wonderful people to assist us.

Now with that said, not all of the folks who were in my kids lives have been Christian nor were they all necessarily who I would have chosen.  But, they were who we were given and I’m truly thankful for each of them.  They each made special deposits in the kids' lives that formed them into who they are. 

There were times through the years when a teacher or a coach gave instructions to my kids that I wasn’t particularly pleased with.  There were times, for instance, when one of their coaches would call a particular play, or play another kid instead of mine or any number of things that can happen, and we would completely disagree.  “What in the world is Coach ________ thinking!?”, we may ask ourselves.  But never one time did we say this to our child.  In fact, quite the opposite.  We backed our coaches because they were the leaders of our child’s team and we did not want to undermine them.  We did not want to strip their authority to our child. 

My husband is quite vocal in the stands.  My kids loved it (or were at least used to it) but I’m pretty sure the referees pretty much dreaded him being there. 

Randy and I were raised in the South—the old South and are extremely competitive.  In Georgia, almost everyone was pretty vocal and loud at ballgames.  When we moved to California, we stood out.  The fans here, for the most part, were much more passive and ….not as loud. 

My daughters were in a new high school and playing for a wonderful coach that had not quite figured out her strange new family.  We were at a Christmas basketball tournament in Santa Maria.  As my girls were on the court during their game, Randy was doing what he had done for about 10 years.  He was telling Olivia things like, “Don’t pick up your dribble” and any number of other things.  Our coach became very frustrated with Randy and asked him (from the opposite side of the court) to stop coaching Liv from the stands.  Randy immediately became quite.  He had not realized that he was being a bother to her. 

After the game, our daughters were crying and furious and wanted to go home.  They were upset that their coach was upset with their dad—their hero.  Randy firmly told the girls to be quiet and settle down that this is their coach and they will do what she says.  He told them that he should not have been doing that because it had been a distraction.  And of course, he quickly went to find our coach and apologized to her. 

This coach is one of our favorite gifts that God brought to us for our daughters.  She is an amazing Christian and we all still stay in contact.  She’s contributed so much into Olivia and Destiny’s lives that no one else could have and we are forever thankful for her. 

But, I have to stop and think what would have happened if Randy had responded differently that day?  What if he had been arrogant and stubborn and become angry at her?  After all—these were his daughters!  If he had told that coach “a thing or two” about …. Whatever….we would have missed that deposit that only she could have made into our kids lives!  We would have robbed our daughters of something and someone precious who helped form them.  It was important that we had her back as much as she has had ours through the years.  

Our coach learned that her weird Southerners were her greatest supporters! 

The next year as she led her team, our team, to the State Championship, we were, of course, screaming the loudest!

2003 CIF Southern Section Champs!

Too often today, we become dismayed at our educational systems and our recreational organizations and complain that teachers, coaches and youth pastors are not doing their jobs.  May I present that if we, as parents, were doing a better job of supporting them and not undercutting them, our children would respect them more and it would alleviate most of the problems. 

We’ve given these folks responsibility for our kids but we’ve robbed them of their authority. 

Our Coach Sally Orlando

We can’t be successful without them.  

After all, 

                 

it does 

take a village!

HOPE Does Not Disappoint

 “Through Him we have also obtained access by faith into this grace in which we stand and we rejoice in hope of  the glory of God.  Not only that, but we rejoice in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, and 

HOPE DOES NOT DISAPPOINT 

because God’s love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit who has been given to us.”    Romans 5:1-5

If the sufferings we go through in life do not produce these things: endurance, character, hope and love, then our sufferings are wasted.  In the middle of our trials we were learning that hope in God does not end in disappointment! Isn’t that great news?

Over the next few days, Olivia began getting stronger and stronger.  She still looked like a frail little preemie with all of her tubes and IV’s.  However, once her recovery had begun, it moved fast. Of course, in the moment, it seemed like an eternity.  After all, I had two babies at home.  Jessica was just three and a half and Destiny was not quite two.

I was experiencing what most moms do.  Guilt.  I felt guilty about whatever I wasn’t doing. Guilty when I said bye to Jessica and Destiny to go to the hospital to be with Olivia.  Guilty when I left Olivia at the hospital to go home to my other babies.  The life of a mother, regardless of how much you do, there’s always much more to be done and something you’re not getting to.

A few weeks later, Olivia came home on a heart and lung monitor. There were so many hurdles to cross, but cross them we did!  This mommy was being required to rely on her heavenly Father to take care of her children when I had no power to do it on my own. 

Liv remained on her monitor for the first thirteen months of her life.  We had many alarms go off and we often had to coax her to breathe.  Eventually she learned that breathing was a good thing!

When Olivia was four months old, we were surprised that, regardless of the fact that we had been using birth control, we were now expecting our fourth baby.  I will say that not everyone around us was as excited as Randy and me.  Oh, the bliss of being young.  I remember that my mom once jokingly (I think) told me, “You don’t have enough sense to worry about anything.”  That’s so funny to me now.  Actually, it was pretty funny to me back then, which must indicate that it was true.

Number four was on the way. 

After a few complications in the pregnancy, we were able to hold off delivery until my 36^th week.  On March 14^th, 1988, four weeks early, Dr. Arshad delivered our son—Yes!  Our SON, Zachary Jordan Arshad Howard.  The night Zachary was born, Randy was as proud as a peacock, as they say.  Zachary was not at all a pretty new-born baby.  As Randy held him that night in the hospital he was smiling from ear to ear.  Zach was born with a bruised, crooked head and a bloody eye.  But that didn’t matter at all.  We had a healthy son.  He would be our last child and we now had an heir to carry on the family name.

He was born two weeks before Olivia turned one.  One month later, Olivia was declared healthy and no longer needed her monitor.  Our family finally felt secure and safe.  Of course, little did we realize that so many trials were ahead.  There would be many more times when we would have to use those “faith muscles” that God was developing in us to see our family reach the destiny that He had designed for us.

At that time in our life, we couldn’t have felt more stretched.  My father-in-law was serving time in prison; my mother-in-law lived with us; my aunt, who was more like my big sister, had suffered a severe brain injury from a car accident; Randy had lost his job shortly after I had quit mine; our pastor was asked to resign and Randy was asked to cover some of the pastoral responsibilities at our church. With all of that we had four children less than 5 years old!

Whew!  The memory of all of that going on at the same time just made me tired!

It was one of the most intense and stressful times of our lives but it was also one of the sweetest times because God was “schooling” us.  He was indeed giving us so many tribulations that He designed to bring about endurance, character, hope and love in our lives.

Afraid of Hope

Twenty-two months after the birth of our first daughter, on July 23rd, 1985, I gave birth to a second healthy daughter.  At first Destiny Ciera wasn't nearly as pretty as her older sister.  In fact, she looked like a funny little cartoon drawing. But, once again, I was completely in love! Jessica was the first grandchild for the Howards and as a young mom I felt like I had to share her with everyone.  So, I decided that Destiny was all mine.  After a few weeks the cartoon-face newborn look changed and she, too, was a beautiful baby.  She looked just like Randy with those big, round, beautiful brown eyes.  Destiny loved her big sister from the beginning and wanted to do everything that Jessica did.  Jessica reveled in holding her and even just touching her.  

After having these two little dolls to play with, I thought that our family was complete.  I worked as a customer service agent for DHL Worldwide Express but my life was my family.  At that time, with only two children, the girls were always dolled up in their pretty, fancy Martha Miniature dresses, big hair bows and clean, happy faces.  It was easy to take them out everywhere because they were so good and easy to manage. Back then I didn't understand what was so difficult about having well-behaved children.  I'm sure that God must have been a bit amused at what I thought I knew and He had a big surprise in the making for me.  

Twenty months after Destiny was born, we delivered our third daughter five weeks early.  Babies are born five weeks early often and can be quite healthy.  This was not the case for our daughter.  As soon as she was born it was obvious that she had serious complications.  My first clue should have been that she was as blue as a Smurf and very quiet in the delivery room.  However, when you're young, have only delivered healthy babies and are lying in a vulnerable position on the hospital bed, things don't compute very well. 

The neonatal staff at Georgia Baptist Hospital in Atlanta must have been in my delivery room within seconds because everything seemed to be moving at warp speed and slow motion at the same time. 

Our daughter was born shortly after midnight on March 31, 1987.  We had not chosen a name for a girl because Randy and my in-laws thought we should "think positive".  After all, Randy was the last Howard and we needed a boy to carry on the family name.

Somehow, early the next morning I made my way down to the neonatal unit and saw my daughter.  For the first time, it dawned on me that we were in trouble.  This was likely going to be a difficult road--at best.  Her little 6 pound 5 ounce body had needles and tubes going in and out of places all over her tiny self.  As I sat by the edge of her bed fighting to hold my tears back, the words of an old hymn came to my memory.  "I care not today, what tomorrow may bring, if shadow or sunshine or rain.  The Lord I know ruleth over everything and all of my worry is vain.  Living by faith, in Jesus above.  Trusting, confiding in His great love.  From all harm safe.  In His sheltering arms.  I'm living by faith and feel no alarm.  

Immediately I knew that God had given us her name.  Olivia Faith.  Living by faith.  Olivia Faith. 

That old hymn became our declaration over our wee daughter.  

On the morning of April 2nd, I was sent home from the hospital without my little girl as other moms beside me got into their cars with their new babies.  My heart was broken.

All throughout that day, Olivia had a barrage of doctors running all kinds of tests on her trying to find out what was wrong.  They knew her lungs were underdeveloped.   They knew she had swallowed a lot of amniotic fluid.  But babies do this all of the time and many come along just fine.  Olivia was not fine.  She and her doctors were fighting for her life.

After I got home that morning I made phone calls to the hospital every fifteen to thirty minutes throughout the day.  At some point I was told they were bringing in a cardiologist because her heart wasn't doing well and they couldn't figure out what was going on.  He should have the report ready by 5:00 pm.  At 5:00 I started to call for the report but couldn't for some reason.  I asked Randy if he would call.  He called and was immediately very quiet and serious.  He calmly hung up the phone and looked at me and said, "We need to leave and go to the hospital right now."  

I'll never forget that moment on Highway 42 heading toward Atlanta.  We were sitting at a stop light by the Starlight Drive-In Theatre.  I looked around at everyone passing by me in their cars and thought, "They don't know that my daughter is dying."  Randy gently interrupted my thoughts and said, "If God requires her life of us, we need to be willing to accept whatever He has for her and for us."  Through my tears I nodded and said, "I know.  but if she dies, no one better say to me that it happened because it was God's will.  I know that. But no one better say that to me."  I only wanted to share my pain with him because he was the only one in the same place as I was at that moment.

When we arrived at the hospital we had some of our family join us.  The neonatal staff called us in to a conference room to tell us that they had finally been able to diagnose Olivia.

Olivia had a condition called persistent fetal circulation.  Basically, in terms that I could understand, they explained that when a baby is in the womb, they do not use the lungs to move oxygen.  But once the baby is born, the lungs open up and move oxygen.  Olivia's body had continued to operate as a fetus after she was born.  The arteries between her heart and lungs had not opened up, allowing blood and oxygen flow.  Because of this her blood gas levels were plummeting and she was in a dire crisis.  They had only been studying this condition at that time for about five years so everything was experimental since they knew little about the condition.  Dr. Erkan recommended that she be put on a particular heart-lung machine in order to help her.  He said that there were only eight of these particular machines in the country at that time.  Two were in San Francisco, two in Washington D.C., two were in Augusta, Georgia and two in New Orleans.  After phone calls were made, it was discovered that New Orleans had a bed open and they could transfer her there.

Everyone began making preparations at once.  This would mean that a helicopter would move her to the local Charlie Brown airport where a Life Flight Lear jet was standing by waiting to fly her to New Orleans.  Randy would accompany Olivia and the medical team there.

As the team began to arrive at the hospital and prepare for the trip, Dr. Erkan and his staff continued to monitor our baby as she continued to grow weaker and weaker.  At one point, he sat us down and informed us that he wasn't sure that she would make the two-hour flight.  Her oxygen levels were dropping and dropping.  Her body was dying.  He also shared with us that she had been without enough oxygen to her brain for so long that she faced a strong possibility of being brain damaged if she did survive.  When the doctor delivered this latest news, I told God, "I can deal with that, just please let me keep my baby." I had Jessica and Destiny but two girls were not enough.  I needed all three of them.  Regardless of what was ahead and how difficult the journey would be, I begged God for her life.

We stood outside her little window for hours and hours and watched as these amazing men and women fought for our little girl's life as if she were their own.

Finally, with her traveling incubator in the hall, warmed and ready to transport her, I stood in grieving pain watching her drift further and further away from me.  Dr. Erkan walked out, visibly shaken and said to us, "I can't do anything else with her."  I quietly turned to walk away before they moved her.  If this genius of a man couldn't help, I finally realized that it was out of my hands.  Every bit of strength, fortitude, love and desire for her couldn't change anything.  All I could do is to place her back into the hands of her loving Creator.

I walked away from her room looking for a place alone to pray.  My sister, Tonya, quietly followed, stood at a distance and positioned herself to be available if I needed her.

It was very late that night and the hospital was pretty vacant.  I sat on the floor in the hall.  I sat there in surrender.  Not wanting to give her up, but knowing that was what was required.  I told my God, "If you want her with You, I'm ready.  She's Yours.   Whatever You say, I'm alright with it."  

Perhaps I should have had more faith and continued to speak healing over her.  I don't know.  I do know that I completely surrendered to His will and I was truly okay with whatever call He made.

As Tonya and I walked back through the double doors and looked down the long hall to where Olivia's room was, Randy hurried towards me.  "I've been looking for you."  My heart dropped.  I earnestly believed that he was about to give me the fatal news about Olivia.  I had just given God my permission to take her and I, at the same time, feared that He had taken me up on it.

Randy said, "You're not going to believe this.  They were about to put her in the travel incubator to move her and Dr. Erkan hesitated and said, 'Let's check her one more time'.  Her blood gas levels had jumped from just a few minutes before!  He's going to check her in thirty minutes again but for now, he's put everything on hold!"

I couldn't even react.  I was afraid to hope.  I stood watching her through the window. Thirty minutes later they checked her and once again, her levels were climbing.  The staff was cautiously excited that she was finally responding.  After a few more hours of testing her every half hour and having the same progress, Olivia stabilized and the transfer was cancelled.  We knew that we were witnessing a true miracle.

One Plus One Equals Three!

I married the love of my life when I was just twenty-one years old.  We had grown up in the same church and attended high school together.  Randy and I had dated for four years and been best friends for years before that.  We got married in 1982 and moved into our little mobile home in Hampton, Georgia.  

Being married at such a young age made me always feel like I was just pretending and playing house. I worked as a Store Manager for a watch shop at our local mall while Randy went to his college classes during the day.  He played basketball for Baptist University of America.  This made for a busy schedule which included daily practices and a few games each week in the evenings.  On top of that, he worked a third shift security job.  Whew!  It was a crazy schedule that you can only do when you’re young.  It seems that we barely passed each other coming and going.  Apparently, we did pass though because just four months into our marriage we were blessed to find out that we were expecting a baby! 

I was due to start my cycle Christmas morning.  At our Christmas meal, which was
always held at noon at my in-laws house, I announced that I thought I was
pregnant.  My father-in-law stopped and asked me, “Are you late?”  “Yes,” I
replied, “I was supposed to start this morning”!  This naïve new daughter-in-law
received kind, sympathetic smiles from my new family but as it turns out, I
actually was.

I remember that I was so excited to be pregnant that I began to wear maternity
clothes almost immediately.  A friend that I worked with named Amy began to
tease me, “You don’t even have tummy yet!”  I didn’t care.  Up until this point,
I had been blessed with nice curves and a flat stomach that I assumed would
return the day I delivered anyway.  I was excited about having a baby and I
wanted everyone to know, or at least suspect, that one was on the way.  

As the months passed and my belly began to grow, the hot Georgia summer set in
too.  Pretty soon I didn’t feel so cute when I would lie sweating like a beached
whale on our leather couch with two fans blowing on me because we didn’t have
air conditioning.  Being pregnant during a southern humid summer is not a lot of
fun. Those "nice curves" just turned into big wavy lines! 

In the early eighties we didn’t have ultrasounds to find out if a little girl or
a little boy was on the way.  We didn’t know whether we were delivering a
Jessica Bree or a Zachary Isaiah, the two names we had picked out.

For two weeks prior to her due date, we waited wondering if each day would be
the day that we would meet our baby.  Finally at 3:00 am on Friday, September
2nd, 1983 I woke up from a dead sleep with a searing labor pain. I called my
doctor right away to tell him that I was in labor.  He asked me how many
contractions I had felt and I told him one.  Fortunately, Dr. Arshad was kind
and didn’t laugh at me but listened to his young patient and agreed that I
needed to leave immediately for the hospital.

Later, early that afternoon, two weeks after our first anniversary Jessica Bree
Howard entered our lives at 12:43pm and forever changed us.  She weighed in at
seven pounds and twelve ounces.  This beautiful brown-eyed girl was alert and
looking around from the moment she was delivered.

That day, as I looked at her, I discovered a new love that I didn’t understand
existed.  I had received that love from my parents but now I was the giver of
the love.  The kind of love that I knew that I would never hesitate to do
anything in my power to keep this child safe—physically, mentally and
spiritually.  I would gladly lay aside any dream or aspiration that would hinder
whatever it took to make sure she was safe, healthy, happy and achieved the call
of God in her life.  My life had shifted.  Life was no longer just about me—or
Randy and me.  It was about Jessica and setting her on course to grasp the
destiny that our Lord had ahead for her.

Loving our little baby girl stirred something new in me.  It gave me a better
picture of God’s love for me.  I had grown up with a lot of rules.  Now, rules
are good and they help us to learn our parameters but I had probably taken it to
an unhealthy level or using the rules to please people.  But, as I looked in
this sweet little face, I understood something new.  There was absolutely
nothing that Jessica Bree could do to cause me to love her any more or any less.
 I just loved her with all that was within me.  I loved her until it ached.
 That’s the way my Heavenly Father loves me.  There is nothing I do that causes
Him to increase His love for me, nor anything---anything that I can do that
could possibly cause Him to love me a half of an ounce less!  Amazing.  Psalms
57:10, “For your steadfast love is great to the heavens, Your faithfulness to
the clouds!”  

 My love for her doesn’t even come close to His love for us, but at least now, I
had a little insight and a bit more understanding.

“How great the Father’s love for me. How vast beyond all measure that He should
give His only Son to make a wretch His treasure!”

Recent picture of Jessica with her youngest son, Justus