Ridiculously Hopeful: A Story of Bold Faith and Hope During a Crisis

By Maleah Stephens

During Maleah’s pregnancy, she and her husband, Scott, received news no parent expects—a congenital heart defect diagnosis for their son that rocked their world. Without medical intervention, the condition would cost their son his life. Scott and Maleah found themselves at a crossroads: choose fear or faith.

In Ridiculously Hopeful, Maleah illustrates the benefits available to you in choosing to walk by faith. She offers hope, encouragement, wisdom, and insight into deepening your relationship with Jesus Christ. She offers testimony to the power of prayer, unity found within the body of Christ, and an awareness that miracles—both big and small—occur today. She illuminates the transformative nature behind the Biblical truths of believing, seeking, and receiving even when answers and explanations don’t exist.

Ridiculously Hopeful challenges the world’s way, which often breeds fear and anxiety. Maleah suggests a better approach: holding fast to hope and a confident expectation of good found in Jesus Christ during a period of uncertainty. She provides practical applications you can apply to transform your outlook and strengthen your relationship with Jesus amidst any difficult situation in your life.

• Language: English
• Publisher: WestBow Press
• Release date: Jan 17, 2023
• ISBN: 9781664272354

Maleah Stephens

Maleah Stephens is a follower of Jesus, wife, mother, dog mom, daughter, sister, aunt, and friend. A student of numbers and finance, she is a financial advisor by trade. She is a book enthusiast, a reader of all genres, and an author by happenstance. Maleah currently resides in Nashville, Tennessee, with her husband, Scott; their son, Townes; and their dogs, Luna and Leo. Visit her online at www.RidiculouslyHopeful.com.

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Copyright © 2022 Maleah Stephens.

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ISBN: 978-1-6642-7236-1 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-6642-7237-8 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-6642-7235-4 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2022912741

WestBow Press rev. date: 12/27/2022

Unless otherwise noted, scripture quotations taken from

The Holy Bible, New International Version® NIV®

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Used by permission. All rights reserved worldwide.

Scripture marked (NKJV) taken from the New King James Version®. Copyright © 1982 by Thomas Nelson. Used by permission. All rights reserved.

Scripture quotations marked (ESV) are from The ESV® Bible (The Holy Bible, English Standard Version®), copyright © 2001 by Crossway, a publishing ministry of Good News Publishers. Used by permission. All rights reserved.

Scripture quotations marked (NLT) are taken from the Holy Bible, New Living Translation, copyright ©1996, 2004, 2015 by Tyndale House Foundation. Used by permission of Tyndale House Publishers, Carol Stream, Illinois 60188. All rights reserved.

Scripture quotations marked (AMP) taken from the Amplified® Bible (AMP), Copyright © 2015 by The Lockman Foundation. Used by permission. www.lockman.org

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CONTENTS

Introduction

Chapter 1Daddy’s Girl

Chapter 2The Road Forward

Chapter 3What’s Next Is Good

Chapter 4See a Victory

Chapter 5Samuel Townes Stephens

Chapter 6A Path Forward

Chapter 7Influence

Chapter 8Forty Days

Chapter 9Receiving Love

Chapter 10It’s a Marathon—Not a Sprint

Chapter 11A Jar of Marbles

Chapter 12Answered Prayers

Chapter 13Behind the Scenes

Chapter 14Gratitude

A Poem: Dear Townes

Chapter 15He’s Doing a New Thing

Chapter 16Step-by-Step

Chapter 17Defining Moments

Chapter 18Refinement

Chapter 19A Big Ball of Yarn

Chapter 20A Testimony

Epilogue

Resources

Chapter Discussion Questions/Journal/Reflection

Acknowledgments

Notes

To my husband, Scott.

You are my love and my rock. The one who allows me a safe place to land and whose vision has always been cast wide (Genesis 12).

To my beloved, Townes.

My tough, tender, and oh-so-brave son. There will be times you feel alone, but you are not. There will be days that feel exhausting, but they will end. There will be seasons where the load feels too heavy but endure. On the other side, you will see the treasures collected along the way. You will know the light was always shining brighter than the darkness.

The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it. —John 1:5

Dear Reader,

Thank you so much for choosing my book and joining me in pursuing hope. As you embark on the journey ahead within the pages of this book, I wait in anticipation to see how the Lord uses these words to reveal himself to you. While our stories differ, my prayer is that you walk away from our time together with a renewed sense of hope and confident expectation of good in your future.

A family whom I will likely never meet, while faced with the most unthinkable decision, selflessly chose to change the course of my family’s future. Our donor family gave us the most precious gift; one we did not deserve, nor can we ever repay.

We long for their child’s legacy to extend far beyond our family to extend exponential hope to others. If, after reading the words contained within, you experience a restored sense of faith and a renewed hope, would you join our campaign?

Will you become a Hope Donor?

To become a Hope Donor, we ask that you extend the gift of hope and encouragement to others by gifting a copy or two of Ridiculously Hopeful. Together let’s make an eternal impact and donate hope to others. Be sure to visit us at www.ridiculouslyhopeful.com.

Inspire Hope –

Maleah

INTRODUCTION

Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—

I took the one less traveled by,

and that has made all the difference.

—Robert Frost¹

What do you do when you face a fork in the road?

One choice presents itself as the safer path. The more predictable route ensures you will manage to get by. The path that allows you to move forward cautiously with more known factors is typically the more commonly chosen direction.

The other choice appears, at least at first, as if you will avoid the truth of your situation. Others may see you as an Ostrich, someone with their head in the sand, hiding, as if to not accept the news given to you. The road less traveled.

To live or to die? I don’t mean in the literal sense as we know these words to mean; I mean living with a mindset that produces good and positive things in your life versus a mindset that results in the slow withering of your soul, perhaps even unbeknownst to you.

Jesus instructs us in Luke 9:23 that any who come after him must deny ourselves and take up our cross daily. At times, this verse tripped me up. I haven’t made sense of what Jesus referred to or even the way to take up my cross daily. What I’ve come to know Jesus’s instruction to mean is sometimes we choose the path less traveled. It means simply shutting off the world by lowering its volume and increasing the beautiful voice of the Lord, which comes from music, sermons, the Bible, and his people.

At the beginning of 2019, I set a goal of completing a sprint triathlon at the beach. Early in my pregnancy, my doctor advised me around twenty-four weeks or at the point when I began to feel unbalanced on my road bike due to the size of my growing belly, she would prefer I not ride on the road anymore. I suppose I can see her point. So, at twenty-two weeks pregnant, I remained within my doctor’s guidelines and received the okay to compete.

My husband, friends, and our parents thought I must be delusional to want to attempt the race, but they had learned by then that if I set my intentions on something, there is no use fighting it. But then we received information we didn’t expect. The news flipped our worlds upside down and made my goal seem so small and insignificant. Our diagnosis created a fork in our road as we knew it.

Overall, that week is foggy. The doctor I knew and trusted would no longer be my primary doctor going forward in my pregnancy. Our new specialist gave me permission to still complete the triathlon if I chose to.

The question in front of me now was this: Do I even want to compete? Everything changed. Life was no longer what I thought it would be. My dreams seemed crushed, and my hopes for the future were dashed. I was left with feelings of confusion, disappointment, sadness. The grief at times felt so heavy, the weight of what I held causing a crumbling in spirit and mind.

Frankly, the burden was too large for me to carry; the uncertainty we faced and the questions standing between us were too overwhelming. In this realization, I knew to choose the road less traveled meant staying steadfast in my plans: to complete my triathlon. Now the race wasn’t about competing because I made the goal months ago or because I wanted to prove to everyone at twenty-two weeks pregnant, I could still swim, bike, and run.

No, to finish the race was to live. While our future was murky, and we had no way of knowing what the months ahead might throw at us, we still had a choice. I decided that weekend, more than anything else, I wanted my child to come into this world fighting to live.

In order for my baby to come into the world with a warrior mentality, his mother and father must be the start. We would lead by example. I wept when I crossed the finish line, not because I accomplished my goal (which was nice) or because the race was difficult (if you have run while pregnant, then you know that running with a baby constantly pushing on your bladder is remarkably uncomfortable).

I wept because it became the turning point for my journey forward. I outwardly demonstrated my internal choice. We would walk forward on this road with Jesus leading the way. Jesus represents life. We would not succumb to the road of fear, depression, and anxiety that presented itself; instead, we chose differently – we walked forward with our shield of faith raised high and the sword of the Spirit activated for the fight ahead (Ephesians 6).

I wanted those walking with us to know we would not mistake our circumstance and its origin for who we could trust with the outcome. What we faced was not from the Lord, but we could, without a doubt, expect his goodness to carry us forward. Our faith and belief for a better tomorrow could only be placed on the Lord. He would carry our burden.

We chose to lean into the holiest of books and pour our hearts and minds into believing what was written years ago. As a result, we discovered what Paul references in Romans 15:4. We learned, we derived encouragement, and, ultimately, Jesus became our living hope.

Throughout this book, I hope you learn what it means to live and to choose life above all else, to be captivated by the good news of Christ, and to be anchored into the truth of the Bible and the words contained within. I hope you learn how we, as a body of believers, encourage and intercede for another. How we stand in the gap for each other, fervently praying and trusting the promises of God when those we love simply cannot. I hope you walk away with an understanding of the practical ways in which we can train our minds to focus on heavenly things to diminish the noise of the world.

Through our story, may you discover—in sorrow and in joy—the hope, power, and peace that only Jesus Christ can give.

CHAPTER 1

Daddy’s Girl

I’d been up for hours; the nerves and exhaustion had settled in. I stared at four white, sterile walls as doctors and nurses moved around me seamlessly. I heard the anesthesiologist tell me to lean forward and curve my spine. I closed my eyes and imagined doing the cat-cow pose in yoga class.

He said, You will feel a small pinch at the base of your spine.

Surgeries have never been easy for me; they make me feel nauseous, and my palms turn clammy. He started the spinal block. With my eyes still shut, I daydreamed about our trip to Croatia just six months ago: the beautiful sunsets, the clear blue water, the sand beneath our toes, and the carefree spirit we carried around as we explored this new country. I remembered the bliss of brainstorming our photo op to announce that our next and grandest adventure was still ahead. I tried not to think about the reality immediately in front of me and the ambiguity of it all.

I felt the needle go in, and then I couldn’t feel anything.

The nurse reclined me back on the bed and prepared the room for the next steps. I felt alone and scared. I asked several times if my husband was coming, and they always answered with the same flippant response: Yes, any minute.

Great, but when?

While I waited, the future loomed ahead like watching a black storm cloud roll over distant hills at great speed. My life transformed into the suspense novels I love to read. I waited with trepidation, wondering what would transpire next, a future of unknowns and uncertainties.

Finally, relief flooded over me as I saw him, my husband, Scott, walk into the room. His face was solemn, but I reached for his hand anyway. I felt anxious, but I didn’t know how to articulate it. The words would not come. Instead, I decided to remain numb, not just physically but emotionally. It was easier that way.

I didn’t envision the birth of my first child or welcoming him to the world this way, not because I was preparing for a Caesarean section in an operating room, but because teams upon teams of doctors bustled around—so many I lost count—and I could not explain all their roles in the process.

My high-risk obstetrician entered the room and said, It’s time. Are you ready?

I wondered, Do I have a choice? My son is safer as long as I am pregnant, but the risk is too great for me to naturally go into labor. What other choice am I left with than to be ready?

At least I convinced myself that I was ready.

Scott turned on our worship music, and we prayed together. He drew near my face, speaking words of reassurance, and then, at 12:33 p.m., we heard a small but identifiable cry.

Scott leaned down and whispered, That’s good.

A few seconds that felt like minutes passed, and we heard another soft cry. Scott leaned over and kissed me on the forehead.

No words were spoken, and no report was given. I didn’t get to see my newborn son, much less hold him. My son’s condition remained a mystery to me.

And then, they were gone. Almost everyone.

I lay there alone, helpless tears streaming down my face in a quiet room once filled with countless people. Only a few remained to put me back together, at least, physically.

Questions lingered, and the future felt in limbo.

We had put a plan in place, made arrangements, and developed a solid postbirth plan, but no one can prepare you for the emotional scarcity you experience when trauma occurs.

Trauma² is defined as a deeply distressing or disturbing experience. Some events occur, and we unequivocally define them as traumatic. We know without a shadow of a doubt that whoever endured such an experience went through trauma. We understand, and even offer our empathy, when they may struggle with posttraumatic stress or depression.

The difficulty arrives when—in the eye of the beholder—you don’t realize, accept, or acknowledge that your experience was traumatic. It can take months for the reality of what you endured to set in.

When I finally made it back to my presurgery room, I found myself on a seesaw, moving back and forth, back and forth, between calm and emotional. I tried my best to restructure the walls I’d so carefully built around my heart during my entire pregnancy; now was not the time to be weak. I always desired to portray strength, consistency, and calmness. I believed others expected strength from me, but the truth is, that it’s what I expect of myself.

Surely, once my mom and my dear friend Kyle arrived, I would feel better, less isolated, and less fearful.

As part of our postbirth plan, we had appointed Kyle as our messenger. Scott would call her, and she would update me. Kyle would be the glorious courier to finally give me a report on my son and his condition: whether he was stable or needed surgery today, or at the very least, when I could see him.

Once Kyle and my mom arrived, my teetering seesaw stabilized a little. My fake walls were built back up, but Kyle didn’t have an update yet. Now, once again, the situation left me with so many unanswered questions.

Then, something I wasn’t expecting happened.

My dad walked in.

I wouldn’t define myself as a daddy’s girl because I am too tough for such a description, too hardheaded, and too independent. Yet when I looked up from