Shattered
“For just as the heavens are higher than the earth, so My ways are higher than your ways and My thoughts higher than your thoughts.” Isaiah 55:9
My husband, Don, and I grew up in a close-knit rural community in Central Pennsylvania, surrounded by the warmth of Pennsylvania Dutch traditions. I enjoyed a rewarding career as a physical education teacher while Don was engaged in farming and operated a hunting preserve. We live on a beautiful 630-acre farm in a friendly, middle-class rural area, where our children attended public school. We started our adventure as high school sweethearts and got married on December 21, 1974. We have three wonderful children: our eldest son, Mike; our middle daughter, Jill; and our youngest daughter, Joy who now lives in heaven.
“Congratulations! You have a beautiful baby girl,” announced the nurse after my Cesarean section. My husband, Don, stood beside me with a white mask covering his face. His eyes sparkled as he proudly declared, “She has peachy skin just like mine.” And that is how Joy’s life began on November 18, 1986.
Joy was an adorable toddler with dark blonde hair and beautiful blue eyes. At her one-year checkup, her pediatrician suggested testing her hearing. This concerned me deeply, as I had noticed warning signs since Joy was about 7 weeks old, but no one else seemed to recognize them. Unlike my other children, Joy was a “quiet" baby; she didn’t coo or babble during her first year. Although she rarely cried, when she did, her cries were loud and persistent. Additionally, she appeared to lag behind Jill and Mike in activities like "patty-cake."
A friend of mine mentioned that her son had also been a quiet baby and that she often worried about him. Her son was quite a bit older than Joy and had outgrown his quietness, developing just fine. She suggested I consult her child’s pediatrician for a second opinion. I took her advice.
I have a detailed file of documentation about everything Don and I did to support Joy. As I went through this file, I came across a note from the pediatrician (when Joy was 12 months old): "Joy is well-developed, well-nourished, happy, and responsive to vocal stimulation. She crawls and explores enthusiastically and shows a genuine interest in her surroundings. She has the ability to pull herself up to a standing position without any help and confidently cruises around the furniture. She’s also curious about the objects on the chair and is able to grasp them with ease. Although she doesn’t vocalize yet, she certainly can hear everything around her. While I can’t pinpoint anything specific concerning her speech, my overall impression is that her motor development is right within the normal range. The absence of vocalization and imitating speech sounds might seem a bit unusual, but I don’t believe she is experiencing any significant delays at this point."
The doctor recommended that we revisit in three months for a reevaluation.
At 15 months, my notes reflect that the pediatrician mentioned, “There is a slight delay in her verbalization and gross motor development. To be on the safe side, I think it might be helpful to have Joy evaluated by a neurologist to confirm what I’m observing.”
I was happy about his suggestion and thought, “He thinks she’s ok. I’m glad I can finally get this behind us. ”
When we met the pediatric neurologist, she kindly mentioned, “You know, Mrs. Martz, it’s common to see learning disabilities when there are developmental delays, which can make school a bit challenging for a child.”
I was a bit surprised by her words since the pediatrician had reassured me that Joy was doing fine. But then, I reassured myself, “I can manage a learning disability. It just means she learns in her own special way, and we’ll just need to support her a little differently than we did with Mike and Jill.”
June 1, 1988, was a day that changed everything for me. The doctor shared the news that my sweet Joy was facing challenges in her speech and movement development.
He said, “Joy may have severe mental re - uh learning problems.”
Nothing prepared me for the news I heard that day. I don’t know if he said it that way on purpose or by accident, but I didn’t miss the implication. I was devastated!
I felt like a heavy cloud had settled over my life, making me wonder if things would ever feel normal again. As I sat in a chair across from the doctor, I could feel a heaviness inside me. I’ve always had two fears in life, and one of them was having a child with a disability. I felt like Job when he expressed his sorrows in Job 3:25–26, saying, 'The worst of my fears has come true; what I've dreaded most has happened. My repose is shattered, my peace destroyed. No rest for me — ever; death has intruded upon life."
I was utterly distraught. Sitting completely alone in a room with the neurologist, I heard that my child had a serious problem. The doctor had been kind when delivering the diagnosis, but it didn’t ease the pain I felt inside. I had a diaper bag, purse, and Joy in my arms. Overwhelmed by the news, I struggled to reach the car without collapsing on the floor in a heap and just bawling my eyes out.
I kept repeating to myself, “Cindy, you cannot cry because if you start you won’t be able to drive home. I felt like Humpty Dumpty, who fell off the wall, and despite all the king's horses and all the king's men, they couldn’t put him back together again. My precious little girl. How could this be? Why my Joy? Oh Lord, I really need your help…RIGHT NOW!
I held back the tears until I reached my car. With Joy in hand, I fumbled through my purse, searching for my keys. Where were they?
Finally, I felt them. I unlocked the back door and gently placed Joy in her car seat, whispering through my silent tears, "Joy, I love you so much."
After climbing into the front seat, the tears began to flood my face. I felt overwhelmed. I wondered how I could possibly drive home.
When I finally arrived, my eyes were red and puffy. My darling Don had just pulled into the driveway as I was pulling in. With his usual lanky stride, he approached the car door, a smile lighting up his handsome face. As he opened the door, I cried while sharing what the doctor had said. Don responded, “Oh honey, the doctor didn’t mean it. He was painting a worst-case scenario.”
I felt even more devastated. My husband implied, without saying it, that I was exaggerating what the doctor had said. Angrily, I said, “This is the last time I’m taking Joy to the doctor alone. From now on, you need to go with me to all of her appointments.”
I never thought the sunshine of my life would turn into a thunderstorm. My heart was so shattered as if it broke into a million pieces. Surely, God wouldn’t let something like this happen, would He?
Babies with disabilities were something that happened to other people—those who mistreated their bodies or struggled with addiction. Isn’t that what the statistics suggest?
Every night, I found myself praying for my unborn child, even though many around me didn’t believe in God or pray for their children. It was all so confusing, and I couldn’t help but feel the weight of the unfairness.
The guilt I felt deepened into something more profound; I was in a spiritual battle. I wondered if God was punishing me for something I might have done, said, or even thought. But if that were the case, why wouldn’t God punish me?
Like many parents navigating the journey with a child with a disability, I couldn’t help but ask, why did this happen?
I was angry with God. I knew I shouldn’t feel this way, but I couldn’t help it.
And then God brought someone into my life, a person who helped me develop a language board on the wall to assist Joy with her communication. As we talked, she looked me in the eyes and said, “Cindy, it’s okay to feel angry. You’re not surprising God; He’s already aware of what’s in your heart.”
Have you ever felt angry at God, feeling that you didn’t deserve what was happening to you?
It’s important to recognize that behind feelings of anger, there often lies hurt and disappointment, which may stem from unmet expectations, possibly even with God.
Half of life is predictable. We make good choices and are rewarded. But what about the other half of life over which we have no control when God allows bad things to happen?
How do we get through the difficult times?
It's comforting to know that there is something we can do. While the answer isn’t as easy as just taking a pill and moving on, learning to trust God amid life’s challenges has been a journey for me—a journey that continues to this day.
I’m truly grateful that I didn’t know all the curveballs life had in store for me in the coming years or just how tough things would become. Still, I cherish every lesson I’ve learned about trusting God throughout this journey.
In this study, which I’ve named A Precious Joy, my hope is that we can find strength in the Word of God together, as it teaches us that having an eternal perspective truly transforms our lives.
To wrap things up today, I’d love to share a song that holds a special place in my heart ever since I first listened to it. It’s "Trust in You" by Lauren Daigle. If you’re interested in worshipping through music today, just click the button to enjoy it with me!
Letting go of every single dream
I lay each one down at Your feet
Every moment of my wandering
Never changes what You see
I've tried to win this war I confess
My hands are weary I need Your rest
Mighty Warrior, King of the fight
No matter what I face, You're by my side
When You don't move the mountains I'm needing You to move
When You don't part the waters I wish I could walk through
When You don't give the answers as I cry out to You
I will trust, I will trust, I will trust in You!
Truth is, You know what tomorrow brings
There's not a day ahead You have not seen
So, in all things be my life and breath
I want what You want Lord and nothing less
When You don't move the mountains I'm needing You to move
When You don't part the waters I wish I could walk through
When You don't give the answers as I cry out to You
I will trust, I will trust, I will trust in You!
I will trust in You!
You are my strength and comfort
You are my steady hand
You are my firm foundation; the rock on which I stand
Your ways are always higher
Your plans are always good
There's not a place where I'll go
You've not already stood
When You don't move the mountains I'm needing You to move
When You don't part the waters I wish I could walk through
When You don't give the answers as I cry out to You
I will trust, I will trust, I will trust in You!
I will trust in You!
I will trust in You!
I will trust in You!