Beyond Bringing Up Boys

Snow flurries danced in the headlights twenty-one years ago this morning as we drove to the small, regional hospital in Indiana, Pennsylvania. At 9:45, I watched Dr. Stever lift you up high and into my view over the partition in the operating bay. Nurses handed you to me within a couple of minutes. Pastor Rick, standing beside me, asked if Mom and I had chosen a name for you. Zachary: “Remembered by God.” As you celebrate this milestone birthday, my mind replays a thousand memories in an instant, recollections of mountains here and valleys there. This constant remains: God has remembered. His mercy towers above all surrounding landscapes. The next 21 years will pass even more quickly for you. You will become middle-aged; I, old. Money will come and go, as will many relationships and fads. Conventional wisdom will change with the wind. Amid fomenting change, this principle must be your north star: God always keeps his promises. Happy birthday to my son, who has been b...

The warmth from the August sun absorbed by the concrete blocks of the parking garage of the Allegheny General Hospital was not enough to ward off the chill that David and I felt as we clung together. Clinging like shipwrecked survivors to a dinghy --quite sure we were NOT ready to face the storm of the diagnosis just given to us by the doctor.  An ultrasound is usually a happy event, that first peek at the life not yet seen. But not that day. The grim face of the physician spoke volumes, even in his silence. They suggested that we terminate and quickly as "he" was already 23 weeks.  We walked away knowing that God, in His sovereignty, could redeem even this, but in my flesh, I was terrified. We had no further ultrasounds.  The months passed agonizingly slow, yet somehow they flew by. David named him Zachary because the name meant, "remembered by God."  We were extremely protective of this potential diagnosis and with the exception of a few close friends ...