Caring for the Savior–Caring for Evan

This morning, a friend’s child (featured in another blog) passed into the arms of our Savior. It was unexpected. It was heartbreaking. It was just wrong in so many ways. But in talking to my friend Matt who will be speaking at the service, I remembered a story that I read in a Christian magazine years ago when my own special needs son was much younger and I was very exhausted and discouraged. I wish I had an original copy so that I could credit the author. That story has sustained me over the course of some very dark days. So, without trying to take credit for someone else’s work, I have done my best to recreate the story here (if anyone is aware of the original, I would love a copy)–even though the circumstances with Evan are different. Evan, this is for you, and for your brother Joshua who preceded you in 2016–and it’s for your mom and dad, Aleecia and David, who I know miss you both. You were/are both gifts from God in ways that you could not even begin to imagine in life. When we all wake up in the world to come, you’ll get it. You’ll see. You were worth every moment.

Evan Hibbets with his father David, Sukkot 2019

A couple had a child who was profoundly disabled, both physically and mentally, due to birth complications. It was hard, as the child got bigger and older, it became more and more difficult to care for him. There were no vacations, money was very tight, and the little things that most parents take for granted, the accomplishments and “regular” joys just weren’t there to sustain them and spur them on. No first steps, no first words, no potty training, no first day of kindergarten—you get the picture. He did smile, a lot, and that kept them going usually. He liked television, and when people would sing to him, he loved being pushed around in his stroller, and then in his specialized wheelchair, but he was always going to be largely unresponsive and would never be on his own. One day, his mom, his full time caregiver, just broke down as special needs moms do from time to time (I sure did), and wept on the floor. Part of being a special needs mom is about allowing your dreams for your child to die in many ways, some small and others very big–as she was experiencing. He would never marry, or have children of his own—he would just continue to grow. She was frightened because it was already hard to deal with and he would quickly be too heavy for her to move around. It was heartbreaking and monotonous dealing with diapers on a growing boy, and especially knowing that he would never be free of them.

This wasn’t what she wanted for him. She wanted everything for him.

Some days, despite loving her son with everything she had (she would not trade him for the world), she would lose hope that there was any sort of silver lining to the dark clouds that hovered over their lives–the fears for him and dangers to Him. She was just dead tired with little to sustain her except for one family from the church who would visit and help out when they could, and an overworked husband trying to pay the bills for things that insurance just didn’t cover.

This was one of the days when she received a visit from the couple, and the older woman took her aside, held her tightly, wiped her tears and said, “I want to read you something.” She got her Bible out of her bag and turned the pages to chapter 25 of the gospel of Matthew–the parable of the sheep and the goats. One arm around the weary, discouraged mom and the other holding her bible open, she told her the story of the righteous at the right hand of the Son of Man:

“Then the King will say to those on his right, ‘Come, you who are blessed by my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world. For I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me drink, I was a stranger and you welcomed me, I was naked and you clothed me, I was sick and you visited me, I was in prison and you came to me.’

Then the righteous will answer him, saying, ‘Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you, or thirsty and give you drink? And when did we see you a stranger and welcome you, or naked and clothe you? And when did we see you sick or in prison and visit you?’ And the King will answer them, ‘Truly, I say to you, as you did it to one of the least of these my brothers, you did it to me.’“

She closed her Bible and held her friend tightly. “I know you are tired. I know this wasn’t the life you wanted for him or for you. I know it isn’t fair and I can’t give you any answers as to why this happened or what will happen in the future but I want you to know something. When I see you caring for your son, and I think of you bathing him and feeding him and changing his diapers every day, slaving away just to keep him alive and healthy and comfortable—all I can think of is you changing Jesus’s diapers. I know it probably doesn’t seem like much of a privilege and I am not going to give you any empty platitudes, but when I see you all I can see is someone working day and night and expending all her heart and energy into caring for my Savior. And when I see His smile, all I can see is our Lord smiling at you through your son.”

I also covered this in my podcast about the Parable of the Sheep and the Goats