TUCKER’S STORY

“Mommy, when are you going to Africa to bring my baby brother home?” a little voice whispered as I pulled the blankets around Zachary before saying our nightly prayers.

“Honey, what makes you think you have a baby brother in Africa?”  I asked.

“I do mommy, and he is just like me! My baby doesn’t have any legs like me and he doesn’t have fingers either, mommy.”

I had talked a few days before about him being different from other children.  Zachary was born missing his lower legs and both lower arms. He had asked me if there were other children like him in the world. I said yes, but he was not likely to see another child quite like himself in northern rural Wisconsin. I wondered if Zachary wanted someone to identify with. Since he was Nigerian by birth, it made sense to go to Africa and get a baby that looked like him!

I kissed Zac’s forehead and told him how very special he was, and that God had truly given mommy and daddy the most perfect boy in the world. I told him I loved his heart for wanting to share our home, but I didn’t know of any child like him in Africa.

“Please mommy, go and get my baby brother because he needs us and he’s crying.”  I reassured Zachary that if I ever found out he did have a brother in Africa I would certainly go and get him. We prayed that night for the baby Zac talked about and asked Jesus to protect and care for him.

“Zachary, you’re a fine boy and perhaps someday God will bless us by giving us someone like you”. He smiled and said, “Mommy, you wait and see. My baby IS in Africa and you are going to go and get him.” I sat on the bed gazing at my son until he fell asleep. My heart wept as I thought of the challenges my sweet boy would have to face one day, but I thanked the Lord for giving us the opportunity to be his parents and the joy we have encouraging him to be the best he can be, regardless of his circumstances.

Weeks later, I received a phone call from a woman who told me how my cousin had given her the book I wrote in 1998 called Acres of Hope. She shared with me how my cousin had told her about our son Zachary. It had been years since she read the book, but one day when she heard about a baby in Africa who needed a home.

“I know you don’t know me, but I feel as though I know you through your book,” she explained. “I know this may sound strange to you, but I believe you have a son in Africa. When I heard about this baby, I knew he must be yours.” Naturally my curiosity was working overtime.

“I know of a baby in Liberia, West Africa who was aborted in the seventh month of pregnancy during the civil war. The abortion procedure ripped his little legs from his tiny body and most of his fingers are also missing. By a miracle he survived.” A chill went through my spine as I remembered Zachary’s words. I knew instantly and without a doubt, Zachary’s brother was waiting for me to come and get him.

It is difficult to put into words the overwhelming love and connection I felt toward this tiny baby who was thousands of miles away in a worn torn country.  It was amazing how God opened my heart and gave me peace about welcoming another child into our family. I could hardly wait to tell Zachary that his baby brother had been found.

Liberia is a small country on the coast of West Africa. It was the first African Republic established by former Black American slaves. The Liberian civil war began in 1989 and was rated one of the most deadly and devastating wars ever fought in Africa. Its wrath demoralized the Liberian people, and left the entire population suffering with thousands of children being orphaned. There is no running water, electricity or mail service. Generators, wells and cell phones are a luxury. The people have been left with a broken and tattered country. Fighting was still going on in many parts of the country making it unsafe to travel there.

We immediately contacted a Liberian attorney in Washington, DC who offered to go to Liberia and complete the adoption for us. We knew time was of essence, because the baby needed medical care, and the political climate was tenuous.  Five days later our attorney left to help us save our son. Many obstacles followed in getting the paperwork through the courts, but finally we got the call that our baby was legally adopted by us in the courts of Liberia.

Just as the plans were materializing for the trip to Africa we received the dreaded news of another out-break of war. The rebels were moving closer to the city of Monrovia and Ganta, the very city our baby was in, had just been hard hit. We tried to find out how the baby and his care takers were. They had been moved to Monrovia. Days went by with no word.  I cannot explain the panic and emptiness I felt, not knowing where our son was. I cried out to God, and begged him to spare my son’s life. The helplessness that came over me was almost more than I could bear. My heart bled for my son and the people of Liberia that they should have to endure such tragedy and sorrow.

Then I felt Zachary crawling up in my lap. He gazed at me, wrapped his little stumps around my neck and whispered, “It’s okay mommy, you don’t need to cry. God is watching our baby and he won’t let anything happen to him.”  Oh the faith of a child! As I cuddled with Zachary until he fell asleep, I thought of how God was weeping for all those enduring such hardships. I thought of how he gave His own son so that none should perish, but have eternal life. I needed to have child-like faith, like Zachary’s.

The following morning we got word from our contact in Liberia. Our baby and caretaker were safe in Monrovia. Many of the missionaries were leaving Liberia because the war was intensifying. We thought perhaps they could bring him home, but the visa was not ready. It would be a week or so before he would be paper ready to travel and the missionaries would be gone by then.

A few months previously we had celebrated moving into our new custom built home. When I thought of all we had and how little the people of Liberia had it nearly crushed my spirit. I thanked the Lord for our blessings and asked Him to continue watching over our dear baby in Liberia.

Three days later, the unthinkable happened. Our newly built 6,000 square foot home caught fire and burned to the ground. Only by the grace of God did we manage to get all seven children out in time. Zachary was the last to be found, sleeping on the floor between the nightstand and the bed! We lost every earthly possession – our photographs, videos of the children as babies, precious family heirloom antiques and memorabilia from my days growing up as a child in Africa!  Nothing was left but a pile of ashes.

Had God forsaken us? Had we not been faithful to Him?  How were we going to survive this ordeal? Exhausted and emotionally drained I sat staring at what remained of our beautiful dream home we had waited 25 years to build.  Tears fell from my eyes, and then I heard Zachary’s sweet voice, “Mommy, it will be okay. God will take care of us.”

What did I do to deserve such a wonderful little boy?  Surely God had given me more than all the earthly material treasures anyone could ever acquire. I had my husband and my children. Truly I was blessed, but there was one thing missing… our son Tucker.

After ears, frustration and settling into an old farm house, we did not have the luxury of wallowing in self pity. Tucker was still in Liberia and in danger from the bullets of war, starvation and exposure to health hazards such as cholera and malaria. Malaria is the number one killer of children under the age of one year. Food was becoming scarce and medical care nearly non-existent. We were in contact with the state department every other day.

Then the dreaded news came… rebels had taken over the city of Monrovia. The embassy was barricaded in, gun fire was rampart in the streets and the food storage was critical. Tucker was sick and needing medical care. They had no formula to give him and would probably not be able to call again. They begged us to pray and said they would try to keep the baby alive. Those words rung in my ear. They would try to keep the baby alive? Shedding tears and struggling to keep my faith, while fearing the next reports from Liberia, I desperately held on to Zachary’s earlier words of encouragement, “Mommy, God will take care of our baby”.

I knew Zachary was right. God knew this baby in his mother’s womb.  He saved him from four different abortion attempts, and even though he lost his legs and fingers in the last abortion attempt, God spared his life and he did it for a reason. I found comfort in knowing that Tucker’s story was not finished. Surely God could not have brought this baby into our lives, only to have his life snuffed out.

The days went by so slowly. We tried to concentrate on replacing a few household things thinking it would take our minds off of what was happening in Liberia, but little Tucker was never out of our thoughts. As a mother, I found comfort in holding Zachary our youngest. I knew Zachary had a special connection with Tucker and in some strange way I felt as if I were holding both of them.

By now we were working with an agency called Ethica who advocate on behalf of adopted children caught in unusual circumstances.

After almost two weeks we got a call from our contact. Tucker was seriously ill. Many of the children had gone days without food. I knew this could mean death for an infant like my son. Frantic, I called Trish, director at Ethica. She suggested we apply for a humanitarian parole and try to get Tucker out that way. We rushed through the paperwork and Trish hand-delivered it in Washington. Between her expertise in knowing what to ask for and my relentless phone calls to political figures in Washington, we finally received an approval to allow Tucker out of the country..

Within hours I had a plane ticket to West Africa. I contacted a doctor from our church that helped me put together an emergency medical backpack full of IV hydration, antibiotics, fever reducer, bandages, etc. Fortunately, I had a medical background as a lab technologist and could start an IV if it became necessary and with my experience of living in Africa I was the logical choice to go instead of my husband.

When I landed in West Africa, I was quickly reminded of growing up in the Congo. The surroundings and the sounds and smells flooded every ounce of my being. I took a deep breath, enjoyed reminiscing for a short time, and then began to focus on why I was there. I was overwhelmed by the anticipation of holding my baby in my arms for the first time.

When we arrived at our meeting point, my heart literally skipped a beat when I realized that within minutes my precious baby would be in my arms.  And then the miracle moment happened. I reached out for the most beautiful baby in the world! As I brought him in close to me, our eyes met.  It was if he knew me… and I had always known him.

I thanked our Liberian friend who had cared for Tucker the best he could under the stressful conditions of war. Tucker was malnourished, dehydrated, had a high fever, a bloated stomach, and a nasty cough. I started intravenous fluids on him, began malaria treatment and administered liquid fever reducer. Then I held him close to me all night.

In the morning I could see a marked improvement although one of Tucker’s stumps was inflamed and swollen. This could be life threatening. I did what I could to make sure he was stabilized for the flight home later that night, prayed a lot and left the rest up to the Lord.

Shortly before leaving for the States, I carried Tucker down to the beach to watch the waves come in. There is something calming and peaceful about the ocean.  So much had happened in the last several months. It was difficult to put it all into perspective. I was half way around the world, yet I felt as if I was at home. What did it all mean?  I thanked God for saving Tucker’s life and dedicated him “African style” by raising him up to the heavens right there on the beach. Then, we sat and cuddled for a while. I looked at this beautiful baby that God had spared and I was overcome with joy for the gift God had given our family. I began to think of all the orphan children left behind who may never know the love of a family like Tucker would. I asked the Lord to help me never forget the “orphans of war”.

Then God spoke to me as if he were sitting right next to me. “My child, I allowed you to experience the fire and lose all you had to open your heart for the work I have for you. When you were only 12 years old, I gave you the heart to reach out to the orphan children in Africa. Now I am calling you to the mission field.  The fire took your home and stripped you of earthly possessions. You will rebuild, but it will be for the children of Africa.”

It all made sense!  I had a desire when I was 12 that one day I would have an orphanage in Africa. Little did I know I would wait nearly 40 years before God would give me the desires of my heart. God has His perfect timing, and exact plan for our lives. The experiences he allows us to go through are often in preparation for what he calls us to do later.

We turned the tragedy of losing our home into a miracle of saving children’s lives in Africa. In 2003, Acres of Hope Liberia, Inc began its ministry of establishing orphanages, feeding programs, medical clinics and schools. Today we currently serve over 13,000 children. God saw the value of one tiny aborted orphaned baby, touched the heart of four-year-old Zachary, and gave us an opportunity to turn tragedy into a blessing.

PATTY ANGLIN

Mason, Wisconsin, USA (Written 2005)

Harold and Patty Anglin are the parents of 19 children, twelve of whom are adopted.

For more information on how you too can become a part of this life-saving ministry, please contact:

Acres of Hope, Inc.  &

Acres of Hope Liberia, Inc.

Attn: Patty Anglin, Executive Director

Ph:   715-765-4118

Fax:  715-765-4119

Email:  This email address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it.

Website:  www.acresofhope.org

A SPECIAL DATE!

Imagine my surprise when visiting my mom one day to receive a phone call from our caseworker, Lindsay, at Bethany Christian Services. She had tracked me down at my parent’s because she had an urgent question. There was a three day old baby girl for adoption. Would we take her? The baby was bi-racial, born in an ambulance on the way to the hospital, and was withdrawing from cocaine.

How do you answer a question like that? My husband and I were hoping to adopt again (we had adopted Mordecai two and a half years earlier), but were thinking of maybe a toddler or preschooler. After all, I was six months pregnant and we already had eight children under the age of ten. We had absolutely no intention of doing two babies again. Yet, here was this gift of a baby extended to us--a baby with no home and family; a baby who would remain in foster care indefinitely if we did not take her. Of course I said yes.

Lindsay then asked if I was sure.

“Yes,” I told her, “we’ll take the baby.”

“Great,” she replied. “She’s in Seattle right now; can you come pick her up?”

Now? No, of course I couldn’t. My toddlers needed naps, my husband was at work (imagine showing up in Seattle with my eight children and trying to pick up a new baby).

“Well, how about if I go pick her up and bring her out to your house?” she offered. No, that wouldn’t work. My husband wouldn’t be home to sign the custody papers (besides I had visions of total chaos--toddlers waking from naps, a screaming baby, messy house, etc.) Finally we agreed on meeting at the office in town after my husband arrived home from work.

It wasn’t until I hung up the phone that I fully realized what I had done. I had agreed to take this baby without a word to my husband. I knew that Chuck would be thrilled about the baby, but we always made our decisions together. When we adopted Mordecai there were three weeks between the time we agreed to take him and the day we actually picked him up. I never dreamed while having the phone conversation that we would be picking up the baby that day.

The rest of the afternoon was a blur. I dug out the car seat and all of our newborn baby girl clothes and washed them. I made a list for Wal-Mart--diapers, bottles, formula. All the while my children looked on, wondering at my sudden desire to get ready for the baby (I was pregnant!) I couldn’t tell them about this baby girl because I had yet to tell my husband who was at work.

God is so amazing. It just so happened that we had a babysitter coming that night (arranged weeks in advance) so we could have a rare date night. When Chuck called to tell me he was off work and on his way to pick up the babysitter, I told him I had big news and to brace himself.

“Honey, when you get home we need to go straight to the Bethany office. They have a baby waiting there for us.”

He was thrilled, praise the Lord! He picked up the babysitter and briefed her on the change of plans while I gathered the children around me and told them the news. They were so excited. They bombarded me with questions, most of which I couldn’t answer.

We chose our baby’s name during the fifteen minute drive to the office--Avi Providence. Avi is Hebrew for “God is my father”; something we hope will be a comfort to her throughout her life. The name Providence was chosen to remind us of God’s sovereignty in bringing her into our family.

As we walked into the office we were greeted by our caseworker holding a gorgeous pink bundle with an unbelievable mass of curls and striking blue eyes. After signing the papers we headed to Wal-Mart with our new baby, and had the most memorable date night in our ten years of marriage.

Life moved at a swift pace. I now had nine children to care for (four of those under the age of three) and was pregnant. As it turned out, sweet little Avi was not withdrawing from cocaine as the hospital said (she tested positive at birth). She had a very erratic sleep cycle, sometimes only sleeping for a total of a couple of hours a night (and no, not a couple in a row), and had very unpredictable feedings. But we did not have to deal with the screaming and sensitivity of drug withdrawal.

God still had work to do in my heart, however. I could vividly remember Mordecai and Jubilee’s first year. (Mordecai was adopted at four weeks old and was drug affected. I gave birth to Jubilee when he was two months old and breastfed both babies.) I remember being so tired I could barely care for everyone. I remember Mordecai’s many hours of screaming as he threw the drugs from his system. I remembered how difficult it was to nurse both babies and to be up at night continually with two babies. I didn’t know if I was up to it again. I thought that perhaps I wouldn’t nurse Avi. I could pack her full of formula, and maybe get some sleep at night. Babies are bottle fed all the time after all. It’s certainly not the norm to nurse an adopted baby.

Two days before we picked up Avi, God began preparing my heart in an amazing way. At a prenatal visit with my midwife, I told her that it was probably crazy, but could she assure me there was only one baby. The midwife took extra time examining me and listening to the baby’s heart, and told me that she definitely thought it was possible that I was carrying twins. I was measuring big, the baby seemed to be all over, and she couldn’t be sure about the heartbeat. Wow, Chuck and I had always wanted twins!

I had two days to ponder the idea of twins before Avi made her unexpected entrance. Now what? Three babies at once? The uncertainty dragged on at each visit as the midwife could neither confirm nor deny the possibility of twins. For weeks I wondered about having three babies. We had always wanted twins, but now? God, however, was busy working in my heart. I knew if I had twins, I would never dream of only breastfeeding one of them. I would never say, “Well, it’s just too hard to be up at night with two and to nurse two, so I’ll bottle feed one so I’m not so tired.”

When I finally went in for an ultrasound to check for twins, it was confirmed that I was only carrying one baby. Only one? No problem. After pondering life with three babies, two suddenly sounded easy. Not only that, I now knew that I would breastfeed Avi when the baby was born. Just as I would never choose to nurse only one twin, neither would I choose to nurse only one of my babies. Suddenly it all made sense. I had been afraid of all the hard work ahead of me. God needed to get my attention and get me back on track, and he used the possibility of twins to do a work in my heart.

Tucker Benaiah was born when Avi was three and a half months old. Avi took to nursing so well, that she actually nursed better than Tucker in the beginning. The babies are now ten and six months old. Avi is walking and Tucker crawls and climbs all over. Both babies are happy, healthy, and breastfed. And oh, I even occasionally get some sleep at night!

RENEE BERGERON

Bellingham, Washington, USA (written 2006)

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Read the story of Chuck and Renee’s previous adoption, IMMEASURABLE JOY.

And now Chuck and Renee have adopted three children from Liberia.

IMMEASURABLE JOY

My husband and I have always dreamed of having a large family. Our first baby arrived nine months after our wedding and at one year intervals thereafter. Life moved fast and money was scarce. There was little time to think of anything beyond coping.  When our first five children were ages 5, 3, 2, 1 and 3 months, we learned about the thousands of children in the United States waiting for adoptive homes.

Chuck and I both felt our hearts burdened for unwanted children. We had a desire to provide a home for a child who has none. James 1:27 defines pure religion as looking after the fatherless and widows. We wanted to share our family with a child desperately in need of one.  We began taking the classes required by the state of Washington to adopt. We learned that adoption can be very low-cost (even free if you use the state agency). Children taken from the state system are eligible to receive free health insurance and adoption support (a monthly stipend for upkeep).

We had several obstacles ahead of us. First of all, we needed to provide proof of immunization for all of our children. Our oldest child was the only one who had been immunized, and we stopped these before she was a year old. Several of our younger children had never seen a doctor, even for a check-up, so we didn’t have a family doctor. After praying over the phonebook (I know it sounds silly, but I didn’t know where to begin) I made an appointment for our physicals.

The first thing the doctor said to me was he didn’t want us to go broke paying for physicals. He only charged us forty dollars apiece, instead of the usual 120 dollars (we had no health insurance). After I explained to him that my daughter had a bad reaction to her DPT shot at four months and quit breathing, he made a note in my other children’s charts, stating why they were not immunized. The adoption agency accepted this with no comment.

Next, the agency wanted to know how we could provide for another child on what our caseworker described as my husband’s “modest” income. This was solved by pointing out that we had no debt, only our mortgage.

We applied to adopt a child of either sex, age seven or under, with special needs. The term “special needs” can mean anything from mentally or physically handicapped, abused or drug exposed, to simply being “older” or even non-white. Adoptive parents are given lists of certain special needs so they can determine what type of child they are willing to take. This helps the caseworker make a good match when looking at prospective parents.

After being certified to adopt, we waited four months to get our son. We received four long phone calls during that period about babies ranging in age from not-yet-born to thirteen months old.  We were open to take any of them, but God closed the door on each one, and found other homes for those babies.

In September 2002 we received a call about a six-day-old African-American baby boy. He had been exposed to alcohol, tobacco, marijuana and cocaine and was born missing some fingers and toes. We jumped at the chance to take him. It took two long weeks to complete the paperwork and make arrangements to pick him up. This included a contract with his birth mother, agreeing to send her occasional updates and pictures. These are sent through the agency, so his birth mother does not know who we are or where we live.

On October 1, 2002 we picked up our four-week-old son, Mordecai Courage. What a joy to look at this new son and celebrate the newness of life and wonder at the way God brought him into our family. Seven weeks after bringing Mordecai home, I gave birth to our seventh child, Jubilee Harvest. We now had two babies 2 ½ months apart, and seven children under the age of seven.

I had hoped to breastfeed the baby we adopted. During the seven weeks before Jubilee was born, I concentrated on bonding with Mordecai. I wanted him to be very attached to me in preparation for nursing him. He slept with us at night; I gave him all of his bottles, and carried him in the sling daily. This effort paid off. As soon as my milk came in after Jubilee’s birth, I sat down with a sleepy Mordecai to nurse. To my surprise he latched on that very first time and even fell asleep at my breast when he was done feeding!

Despite the great beginning, nursing Mordecai turned out to be incredibly difficult. He had a “disorganized suck” due to an immature nervous system. He often had difficulty establishing a good suck-swallow pattern. We had noticed this in bottle feeding him, but it made nursing nearly unbearable on my already sore nipples. The only thing that kept me going the first few months was the knowledge that I would always regret it if I gave up.

What followed was months of sleepless nights as I nursed one baby, then the other. We would begin each night with each baby in their own crib. When Jubilee woke up to nurse, I would bring her into our bed. When Mordecai awoke, I would lie down and nurse him on the couch. I would sleep with him there until Jubilee was up again, then I would put Mordecai back in his crib, and go nurse Jubilee. I was so tired from this that on two occasions I mixed up the babies, thinking I was nursing one, only to discover it was the other!

Mordecai continues to grow and thrive. A week after he began nursing, he was off the bottle completely, and never had another drop of formula. He has continued to be on target developmentally, despite the drug exposure. Not even missing several toes on each foot slowed him down – he walked at 12 months.

At his 18-month check-up his doctor thanked me for bringing him in and said, “You know, he’s done better than I expected him to. In fact, he’s done better than I ever hoped he would.” I am happy to say that at 2 years old he has only seen the doctor for his well-baby check-ups, not one sick visit!

Mordecai and Jubilee are inseparable. They have a very special relationship and are convinced they are twins. They are always together and more often than not into trouble. Jubilee is Mordecai’s gift. Because of her birth, he was able to thrive on my breast milk.

I sadly weaned both babies at one year due to morning sickness (yes I got pregnant nursing two babies).  May 4, 2004, our eighth child, Hezekiah, was born.

We would encourage every family to consider adoption. Is your heart open to one more? Mordecai has brought immeasurable joy to our lives.

RENEE BERGERON

Bellingham, Washington, USA  (2004)

This email address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it.

Renee is happy to give information to anyone interested.

Look for and click on, A SPECIAL DATE of how Chuck and Renee adopted another little baby into their family. And since then Chuck and Renee and have adopted another three children into their family from Liberia, West Africa.

LIFE OR DEATH

I am writing this story with five-week-old baby ShaHannah cuddled in the crook of my arm. We are very blessed to have our ninth birth child, safely born the 25th of August. This makes twelve children in our home. We have also adopted four children that were not wanted, due to their special needs. Tally, our baby girl by birth was born with Down syndrome and went to be with Jesus 17 years ago.

However, I am not writing to share about my family, although I could write volumes about how God has blessed our home. Instead, I want to share about how ordinary families, like yours and mine, are actually saving babies from the abortionist’s knife and suction tube.

Late term abortions are hideous. Have you ever seen pictures? I gently kiss my newest sweetheart on her soft downy head. I can’t help but shudder at the close call two baby boys had, the morning ShaHannah was born. They came so close to being torn limb from limb. One was 33 weeks with dwarfism. The other 30 weeks with a malformed heart. By the end of the day, their birth moms chose life for them. They are already loved by two families, waiting for them to be born.

Tom and I are part of an organization called CHASK, Christian Homes and Special Kids. It is actually a smaller ministry raised up out of the 15,000 families homeschooling their children with special needs called NATHHAN, National Challenged Homeschoolers. These Christians are “putting shoe leather” on their belief that all children are a blessing from the Lord. Children born with medical concerns are just as much a part of the body of Christ as a child born without disabilities.

Presently America debates on whether to have government funding of abortions of disabled babies. I am reminded of Proverbs 12:10b NAS, “Even the compassion of the wicked is cruel.”

Through CHASK, there are thousands of us trying to find these precious babies before it is too late. Most medical personnel are not aware that there are families waiting to adopt special needs children. They encourage swiftly made decisions to abort. The reality for us at CHASK is that there are no unwanted, unborn babies with disabilities. They are very easy to place. CHASK has no waiting children, only hundreds of tender-hearted waiting parents.

Can I tell you about a few of the babies in the last year that have been snatched from death just in time?

Jeffery Jack Williams

Come with me to the living room of an older home. A mother-to-be, eight months along, sits on the couch weeping. The death of her baby is the key to their economic survival. Both she and her husband are diagnosed with Schizophrenia. In order to still receive their SSI income, they must not have a baby in their home.  Recently, they accepted Jesus as their Savior. They could not imagine who would adopt a baby with possible mental disabilities. The only alternative was to terminate the pregnancy.

The phone rang. It was her sister. A listening ear comforted her aching heart.  In fact, the sister gave her hope -- “If I can find a Christian adoptive home for this baby in three days, will you give birth?”

The mother-to-be and daddy-to-be gratefully accepted the sister’s offer. The sister contacted CHASK. Within a few days, Dear Birth Mom letters and pictures from several families were in this hurting couple’s hand. Here is a quote from a NATHHAN family who sees him in church with his new mom and dad each week.

“I have had the privilege of spending time with our youth pastor and wife and their new, wonderful, baby boy!  He is such a beautiful baby and so loved!  It has been a joy to be a part of this adoption.  I am very excited about this new project, CHASK, started by NATHHAN families.”

Sean Andrew Peterson

Sitting cross-legged in a corner of her group home, tears drenched her shredded Kleenex. Melissa, a 23 year old mentally disabled girl, knew right from wrong. In her heart she knew that killing babies was wrong. She could not go through with the abortion. Her boy friend wanted to raise his child. However, mildly mentally disabled, he was just as incapable as she was to care for a baby. For months they had been heavily pressured to abort.

Several months ago, an agency found a family to love their baby. That family backed out.  Another family was found. This family also backed out. No one wanted her baby. She had to face the social worker again. His unkind words and “I-told-you-so’s” left her quivering with grief.  Hence, she faced making a most horrible decision.

CHASK was called by a concerned lawyer. Within several hours, we had two families very willing to adopt their sweet baby. Sean Peterson was born last week, and is now home basking in the love of a mommy and daddy that will love him, no matter was his mental capabilities are.

Ezekiel Creamer

In a lonely hospital crib, a dark, curly-headed boy born with only brain stem function, lay screaming. His head hurt terribly. Swelled with extra water, it put pressure on his skull. Surgery was denied. The doctor decided to let him die a natural death, seeing he had only minimal brain function anyway. No parents for this baby could be found. A social worker, who was touched by his case, contacted CHASK and urgently asked us to find a family to save this baby’s life.

Within hours, several CHASK families were found willing to vouch for the importance of life for this hurting baby boy. A family was chosen in Kansas and immediately ordered the shunt placement. Baby Ezekiel’s life was saved. He is now home with his loving family and doing well, after three shunt revisions.

He is bringing joy to his family and is a testimony of Christ’s caring attitude toward “the least of these.”

Ezekiel’s parents say,

“He is doing much more developmentally than anyone thought he would!  We praise God for saving his life.”

We believe that many Christians, if they only knew how, would gladly lay down their lives for “the least of these”.  CHASK charges no fees. All states require a home study (around $800.00) and lawyer fees ($500.00 – $1,500.) Travel is possibly needed.  Many CHASK families have found lawyers to do the work for free. At present, CHASK is able to hook families up in the United States and Canada.

Before God, we feel morally responsible to do our best to save the life of each baby that comes across our path. It is a battle between life and death.  Sometimes death wins, but mostly, when a birth mother calls CHASK, she is desperately looking for a way to save her baby.

Our family, including our children with special needs, pray desperately for the little tiny lives that are at stake. It is so touching to see our son with Down Syndrome, praying sincerely for the life of another with his disability.  The odds are terrible. Ninety percent of all babies with Down syndrome are aborted. Yet, Jordan’s life was spared for God’s glory. We know that others will be saved too. Can you help us?

We are looking for Christian adoptive families and those who can help us locate adoptive families. We need prayer warriors.

Specially designed “Adverse Prenatal Diagnosis” brochures are here at the office waiting to be handed out to birth parents in crisis.  Do you know where to find birth mommies in crisis? We need help financially to keep up with the office work. CHASK is a 501-C-3 not for profit organization. All donations are tax deductible.

Please pray for our family’s safety as we face the originator of abortion each day. Snatching babies from his gaping maw makes him mad!

Proverbs 24:11-12 says, “Rescue those being led away to death; hold back those staggering toward slaughter. If you say, “ But we knew nothing about this, does not he who weight the heart perceive it? Does not he who guards your life know it? Will he not repay each person according to what he has done?”

SHERRY BUSHNELL
Porthill, Idaho, USA (2004)
This email address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it.  Website: www.NATHHAN.com

For more information on how your family can get involved with saving special needs babies with CHASK contact: This email address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it.  
NATHHAN / CHASK  P.O. Box  39,  Porthill,  ID  83853, Phone: 208-267-6246 www.CHASK.org