Donna L. Phelps
Eight years into our marriage, our youngest boy (who was then a bit past 3) was diagnosed as very autistic and severely retarded. Three months later our oldest boy (4 1/2) was diagnosed as high-functioning autistic. Word spread faster than I was ready to deal with it. I found myself angry and bitter with those who were the first to share the bad news, even when they were sharing a prayer request. Coments of "I knew that was what was wrong with him" pierced my soul with pain. Acquaintances found it difficult to talk to me. Even some I had regarded as friends preferred to stay away.
I had the support of my husband, family and my been-there-through-it-all friend to help me adapt to the new road we were to travel. But my most solid rock has been Jesus. He has given me the strength to turn tired sobs of prayers into praise for His unending love.
I began this book as a way to document to my sons the beauty and perspective they have added to my life, wanting them to know their problems didn't need to be fixed before they were loveable and enjoyable to me. I didn't want them to be remembered just for their limits - I wanted to celebrate what is good and perfect about them. Some of my pivotal moments involved coping with their special needs, but many more happened when they were just happy being themselves. These are the moments I wrote about; the ones that helped increase my faith, that provided joy in my daily life, and drew my eyes repeatedly to my source of power. God has given me so much by allowing us to raise our two wonderful boys, and I will be forever thankful for them.
Donna Phelps grew up as the daughter of a minister and his wife, so church involvement was the focus of her family life. She and her twin sister began playing piano and organ for the song services when they were 8, practicing the songs all week long to learn them for the service. But she much preferred to listen to her mother's beautiful music instead of being up front herself. Her family's ministry moved them all about Ohio and Pennsylvania before they moved west into South Dakota and Colorado, then back to New York. By the time she graduated high school, she had moved 17 times.
She received her Associates Degree in Business Administration from Jamestown Community College, and went on to work as an administrative assistant for several different companies. She met her husband when she was in her early thirties, and they were married a year later. God has provided for her to be a stay-at-home mom with her two boys, and she currently keeps busy with housework, gardening and transporting the boys back and forth to therapy. They are adapting well to school and riding the bus, and enjoy being around people. She and her family live in Denver, Colorado.
My husband and I were both sleeping soundly when he tiptoed into the room. I had wakened enough earlier to realize that Daddy had come to bed at an impossible hour, the book he was reading being too good to put down. I made a mental note to intercept our little little ones before they woke him in the morning, and went back to sleep. But this morning our youngest had made it to the bed unheard. A giggle startled me, and before I could react he had climbed over me and fallen on Daddy with a loud "boo" aimed directly into Daddy's ear.
I never saw my husband move so fast. He hit the floor and words not lawful for tender ears flashed across his face. His mouth opened and closed in frustration. We'd been working for months to get this youngster talking! Meanwhile our boy climbed off the bed and left the room with a huge smile on his face, his cheerful voice uttering loud and happy sounds of victory. After all, not speaking didn't mean he was incapable of understanding a good joke nor, it seems, did it make him unable to appreciate the fact he'd been able to pull it off so effectively on Daddy (the hardest one of all to catch)!
It hasn't been easy raising him. He is plagued with sleepless tendencies, slow development, and eating restrictions. At times he is frustrated with his inability to communicate more fully, and because his most likely time to attempt talking is so late at night he has no listeners. He fluctuates from wanting to be left alone to not letting go of my hand, wanting me to constantly stay in his line of vision. This is not what I pictured motherhood to be. There is so much pain in loving him, so much giving with no response from him. And so many dreams for him have been left by the wayside for another little boy to pick up and fulfill. We are still struggling to teach him the basics of life at age six, and to give him the confidence he needs to grab some of it for himself.
Through my pain, and my continual requests for guidance from God, I want to ask "why." How could God possibly be better served by depriving this winsome little boy of a normal life? But I have learned to redirect my questions to "what, how, when, and where" to keep focused on finding answers that will help face more immediate situations, and slowly develop peace in knowing I will understand all the "whys" in the hereafter. That kind of confident waiting has been both slow in coming and a daily choice to maintain, for God proclaims through His word that He is greater than all, uncomparable to any, keeping His own counsel and bringing all together to reveal His glory.
His most precious promise to me for my children is:
Thus says the Lord who made you and formed you from the womb, who will help you, Do not fear...For I will pour out water on the thirsty land and streams on the dry ground; I will pour out My Spirit on your offspring, and My blessing on your descendants...This one will say "I am the Lord's; and that one...will write on his hand "Belonging to the Lord"...Is there any God besides Me, or is there any other Rock? I know of none.
Isaiah 44:2-3,5,8 (NAS)
