Myra Harke
ALL THE TOMORROWS
He never walked, he never held his head erect for more than a few seconds without support. He didn’t bring home A’s on his report card or play a game of Candy Land. He never even hugged me or said I love you mom. He lived in an entirely different world from the one I lived in. But for thirteen years our worlds intertwined with one another.
Jasper had a radiant smile and a deep from the belly laugh that filled the entire house. He learned to operate a computer with switches and loved watching Sponge Bob and Veggie Tales. We took him to the zoo, Disney World and swimming with dolphins.
He was our adopted son, not of our own race but truly created in the image of God.
I got the call from Donna, a social worker, on a bright, sunny morning in May of 1994. It concerned an eight month old infant in the local hospital who needed to be discharged to foster care. Would we take him into our home?
I was told that he was born a healthy baby on August 24, 1993 and had the misfortune of having cocaine addicted parents. Twenty four hours later he went into full cardiac arrest. It left him a quadriplegic with cerebral palsy, obstructive airway disease and a seizure disorder. The social worker told me that he was slightly developmentally delayed.
My husband Raleigh and I had recently been through a ten and a half year court battle with an abusive father for custody of his son. The case ended in the New York State Supreme court where we were eventually successful in the adoption of Joshua. And
furthermore, we had already raised a biological son and daughter and foster parented a
number of other children. At the age of fifty three I believed my days of caring for
infants was over.
My response to Donna was “are you crazy? I can’t take another baby!”. She asked me to talk to Raleigh. In the meantime she would look for other foster families in our county who might consider accepting this special needs child.
Following dinner that evening, I approached the subject of Jasper with my husband. I was certain he would agree with me that we couldn’t possibly accept this little boy. Surprise! His response was “maybe we could help the little fellow out for a year or two”. Sitting next to me at the table was Joshua, nodding his head in agreement. “Mom, can’t we take this baby?”
Earlier that year I had retired as administrator of a Christian pre-school and kindergarten which I had started thirteen years before. And now I was preparing for a full time position as Director of Children’s Ministries at our church. This child did not fit into my carefully laid plans. Besides, I reasoned, someone else was going to accept the baby.
The phone rang the next morning. It was Donna. “Myra, we really are in desperate need. We have tried everyone.” It was Friday and God still had a work to do in my heart. I did not say no. But neither did I say yes. I needed the weekend to think about this request and I had to ask for the Lord’s guidance.
All weekend I prayed “God, my name is not Sarah. I can’t do this!” The following Sunday morning Joshua woke up sick and my husband left to teach my Sunday School class. I turned on the radio to listen to our church service which was aired weekly. The sermon that morning was “Knowing God’s Will for Your Life”. A message I had heard many times. But this was different. God was clearly telling me that He would take care of tomorrow, I only had to take care of today. And I knew immediately. Jasper was coming home.
I had requested a meeting with some of the hospital personnel including his physicians. Entering the conference room on Monday afternoon I was surprised to see the number of people sitting around the table. All my questions were answered in regards to the first eight months of his life. Unanswered, was the most perplexing question of all. What was Jasper’s future?
Not knowing what to expect when I walked into his room, I looked down at his bed and noticed enormous brown eyes with long curly lashes looking up at me. He was so tiny. At eight months old he weighed just ten pounds. Bending over and putting a finger on each of his little cheeks to get his attention, I said “Jasper, I’m your new mommy”. He smiled a big toothless baby grin.
Gathering him into my arms I felt him stiffen and arch his back and I knew one of his undiagnosed issues--cerebral palsy. There would be many more diagnoses in the months to come. Three days later Joshua and I took Jasper home from the hospital and we all began an incredible journey.
He cried all day and all night in pain. He was unable to keep down his special formula and he had constant diarrhea causing a serious breakdown of his skin. I rocked him, sang to him and prayed “God you told me you would take care of the tomorrows”.
There were many nights my head never hit the pillow.
One day I came upon a tape in the nearby Walmart, “Mozart Naturally”. I bought it and played that tape over and over again. The soothing classical music seemed to give Jasper a measure of relief.
More than five months later, several additional hospitalizations and increasingly exhausted foster parents, the agency provided Jasper with a few hours of weekly nursing
care in our home. Ahh! My bed never felt so good.
I spent a lot of time trying to think of anything that might stimulate Jasper’s damaged little brain and also take his mind off his never ending discomfort. One day I bought a cage of finches and set Jasper on the table in his special chair to observe and listen to the birds. He enjoyed their activity and watched intently as they flew about the cage. And once in awhile he actually smiled. But most of the first year, Jasper cried.
Our son Brian called one day from Allentown, PA. He was newly married and working on his Phd. in school psychology at Lehigh University. “Mom,” he said,“ when I’m through here I want you to know that Diane and I are not moving back to Syracuse.
We’re heading for Charlotte, NC”. He asked us to also think about moving south. A few
months later we all relocated nearly eight hundred miles away to our new home. Including Jasper. After two years we went back to Syracuse in a northern snow storm to
finalize his adoption.
Moving into our newly built home in the middle of July with non-working air conditioning wasn’t my idea of a great start. Jasper got sick, and the first place we
located in Charlotte was the Carolina Medical Center where I spent many days with him
in the years to come. It was there we found Dr. Morton, a pediatric surgeon who advised
a stomach surgery followed by a feeding tube placement in his abdomen.
The surgery was performed in August of 1995. There were complications, more surgery and inpatient rehabilitation. Jasper was discharged six weeks later and we were finally able to unpack and get settled into our new home. Jasper began to thrive.
The all day and all night crying stopped, replaced with many smiles and much laughter. He gained weight and had an increasing interest in his surroundings. As he grew older we made the decision to have his educational needs met in our home. There was a never ending parade of therapists, teachers and nurses in and out of the house.
Because Jasper had such limited use of his hands, we were unable to teach him American Sign Language, and he was unable to speak. Communication became a real problem for him. He learned to blink in response to yes and no questions and used switches with one finger and a thumb to operate a computer for math and other educational experiences.
He liked to be dressed up for Halloween, watch other children play and attend birthday parties. Jasper loved blond haired girls of all ages.
He learned to play tricks on his teachers by faking sleep when he didn’t want to do his school work. He even got quite good at imitating a snore or two. We loved it! There was so little he could control in his life but the “I gotchas” he exhibited for his teachers followed by much laughter was quite entertaining. However, Jasper’s days were limited.
When he was nine years old his respiratory status began to decline rapidly and a tracheostomy and continuous oxygen was the only answer. When his pulmonary specialist and neurologist told us that they couldn’t keep him going much longer, I thought “he can’t leave me.”
My life now revolved around this little boy. I pleaded with God not to take him because he needed his mommy to care for all his needs. But God had a plan.
Jasper really enjoyed Mt. Harmony Baptist Church and Pastor Buddy Pigg. I sat in the front row on Sunday mornings with Jasper in his wheelchair next to me. His enthusiasm for the music was obvious and we became aware that he was listening to Pastor Buddy’s sermons.
April 23, 2006 was like every other Sunday morning. At least it started out that way. Jasper, as usual, was sitting quietly in his wheelchair listening to the congregation singing “The Days of Elijah”. And then it happened. As observed by myself and an associate pastor, he began blinking his eyes, yes, yes to the repeated chorus “There is no God but Jehovah.” I looked at him and thought something is going on. That praise song was followed by “How Great Thou Art” and the Lord reached down and touched my child.
Jasper looked up at the ceiling, pointed his finger straight up and tears rolled down his cheeks. And I knew that God had confirmed He would take care of my little boy. What a wonderful sense of peace came over me.
Nine months later I passed Jasper from my arms into the arms of Jesus. God had kept His promise. He had taken care of all the tomorrows.