Designed, No Less

By Kenneth Laudermilch

Designed, No Less is the story of Keith, our special-needs son. Keith's life has been a marvelous journey from infancy to adulthood, one we were not initially prepared to take or would have chosen. But looking back, it is a path we would not have wanted to miss, for we have seen firsthand the marvelous Providence of God in the face of infirmity, in the life of our son. We hope that our experiences and observations in raising Keith will encourage and prepare young parents in similar circumstances, that they too will witness the unmerited, unforeseen, yet undeniably magnanimous love, grace, and faithfulness of God that has a way of bursting upon dark, difficult paths when least expected.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Covenant Books, Inc.
• Release date: Sep 17, 2020
• ISBN: 9781646702046

Book preview

Boston Beginnings

It was late in the evening as we fell exhausted into bed. The boxes had been unpacked and our modest furniture placed in some likeness to our former apartment. Leftovers from dinner with the folks were stashed in the fridge with the overflow placed in a little wooden cold box some former resident had thoughtfully constructed on an outside window ledge to take advantage of Boston’s wintry climate. The conversation and laughter over our last meal with parents before they returned home to Pennsylvania left a warm and comforting memory as we lay quietly staring into the darkness and listening to the sounds of the big city from our little third-floor apartment on the Fenway.

Earlier in the day, I located the building superintendent in his basement den—a tall wiry, chain-smoking, unsociable sort of fellow whose door plate might well have read Whatever! The extra locks I had purchased for our apartment door seemed well-justified now for staff as well as for strangers. To borrow a phrase, suddenly below us in the alley, there arose such a clatter that I sprang from our bed to see what was the matter. Apparently custodian Bill was having an altercation with his wife and literally dragged her, kicking and screaming into the alley. From open windows high above the street, college boys had thrown open their dorm windows to cheer the brute on. Incredible! It was a rude awakening to close-quarter city living that we will never forget. What had we done? Why were we here? Was I really a graduate student at the Conservatory? Would we be able to live on Nancy’s salary at the printing company? What would become of the dreams we shared since our wedding day one year earlier?

Nancy settled into her secretarial responsibilities at a printing company in downtown Boston and I into my studies at the New England Conservatory. Across the street from her employment and behind Park Street Church lay the Old Granary Burial Grounds whose residents include Paul Revere and signers of the Declaration of Independence—John Hancock, Samuel Adams, and Robert Paine. Her subway commutes from Symphony Hall to Park Street were uneventful except for her return trip on November 9, 1965. I met Nancy at the Symphony Hall stop as usual, and as we began our trek down Westland to the Fenway, we noticed the lights and machines of the neighborhood Laundromat cease their function. The bewildered faces of the customers were really quite amusing. Within seconds, the signal lights began to flicker, and by the time we reached our apartment, we realized the city was in a blackout. From the lobby of our apartment came the glow of candles that residents had placed on alternating steps of the white marble staircase. The Great East Coast Blackout of 1965 was upon us which extended from Canada down to New York City, leaving a reported thirty million people in the dark.

Nancy and I would find Boston to be a wonderful blend of history, art, and culture that fall. We explored the city from Haymarket Square to Old North, from the Commons to Copley Square. As music lovers, one of the highlights of that late summer were the Esplanade Concerts along the Charles River with Arthur Fiedler conducting the Boston Pops Orchestra with my esteemed teacher Roger Voisin playing principal trumpet. Weekends found us on the Freedom Trail which winds through historic Boston with points of interests such as Paul Revere’s House, Faneuil Hall, and Old Iron Sides in the harbor. Pleasantly enough, there always seemed to be a Brigham’s Ice Cream shop on our route that satisfied the sweet tooth and our meager budget. Further afield, our trusty black and white ’55 Chevy Bel Air was the escape machine to Boston’s north and south shores. Oh, how I wished I had never sold it despite its burning nearly as much oil as gas! But for work and school, those were carefree days in the sun and a time for building memories that every newly married couple draws upon for a lifetime. Unwittingly our experiences apart from friends and family increased our dependence upon one another for the time soon to come.

2

Keith Is Born

Our hearts skipped a few beats when we learned that Nancy was pregnant. Living at some distance from family had its benefits, but bringing a baby into the world so far from the support of the broader family would present challenges—far more than we could ever have imagined at the time. Nancy’s pregnancy was normal and uneventful, and before too many weeks, our small apartment began taking on the features of a nursery.

Bryan Keith was born a healthy baby in the Boston Lying-In Hospital on July 22, 1966. The obstetrician was on a deep-sea fishing trip that weekend but returned to the hospital just in time for delivery. All went smoothly; mother and baby seemed to be doing fine when I received a call from the doctor, asking that I meet him at his office. Entering, I knew immediately something was awry and recall becoming acutely aware of my surroundings as I sat down on the large brown leather couch with a 220 electrical outlet just below the right arm rest. With little introduction or compassion, the physician matter-of-factly informed me that Keith had been diagnosed with Downs syndrome. Though my arm rested a safe distance from the outlet, I remember snapping a look its way, thinking that I had just received a wrenching jolt from it.

Still trying to process the reality of what I had just been told, the doctor continued with what I believe he intended to be optimistic, Children like your son generally have heart conditions and do not live very long. (Say what?) His third statement was rendered in a more somber tone (unforgettable to this day in word and delivery).

Get the child out of the arms of his mother as soon as possible and place him in a state institution like Wrentham… you know, just south of Boston. In disbelief, I heard him mumble something about a child like Keith in the family not being fair to any other children that might come along in the future.

He opened the door and ushered me out to get on with my dastardly deed. Making my way back the long dark, bleak corridor to Nancy’s room, I heard her sob before entering. Unprepared, somewhat in shock, and groping for what all this would mean for our family, Nancy spoke first, We will raise this child as any other child. Though many years have passed, I recall that in the moments of silence that followed, we knew only two things for certain: The condition was irreversible, and God knew about it.

How grateful we were in the days and years to come that we had been raised by churchgoing Christian parents who valued life in all its forms. In those moments of critical life-directional thinking everyone experiences at one time or another, such moorings become strengths and very present helps in times of trouble. The doctor’s advice to place Keith in an institution represented no credible solution whatsoever. Within days, we realized that the peace and even the degree of confidence we were experiencing was not a conditioned response left over from childhood teaching but a response which we were emotionally and intellectually incapable of making apart from God’s intervention.

Much later, we would look back and realize that his Spirit was in it from the beginning. American writer Rick Warren correctly identified the scenario in this way: You never know God is all you need until God is all you have. Now, more than fifty years later, we realize that we may never know his complete purpose in designing Keith with an extra chromosome, but we have experienced enough to know that at least part of his plan was to create Keith as a conduit to display to us and others his love and grace.

3

The Sovereignty of God

There would be a lot of sorting through life questions in the early months and years of our parenting. The answers to the deep questions of life always seemed to bring us back to spiritual matters. In this regard, the Book of Psalms has been a wonderful source of comfort as it speaks frequently of God’s sovereignty over all creation:

Whatever the LORD pleases, he does, in heaven and in earth, in the seas and in all deeps. (Ps. 135:6, ESV)

Psalm 139:13, 14 offers confidence and hope especially to parents of special-needs children.

For you created my inmost being; you knit me together in my mother’s womb.

I will give thanks to You, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made; Wonderful are Your works, And my soul knows it very well.

Contrary to common thought and action, we are not the center of the universe nor are our ways God’s ways. What the world perceives to be of great worth (money, power, and prestige) turns out to be pretty shabby in his eyes when we pursue them apart from him.

Our lives changed abruptly on