Welcome a Child, in His Name

by Jim Lyon, Senior Pastor

Elizabeth Ginder’s life was defined by two sets of parents. Born in Denver, her mother was just 16, her father still a teenager, too.  He did not know his wife was pregnant. Neither did she. In fact, Elizabeth’s birth was like one of those tabloid headlines you find at the supermarket check-out: “16-Year Old Thinks She Has Flu and Delivers Baby Instead.” Experiencing cramps and pain like she had never known, Elizabeth’s young mother went to an emergency room to find relief and only then discovered she was pregnant; Elizabeth was born that same day. Yes, folks: things like this really happen.

Overwhelmed, Elizabeth’s parents then faced another challenge: Elizabeth was born disabled. From the moment she saw the light of day, Elizabeth clearly manifested signs of a serious brain disorder; much of her brain just wasn’t there. Unaware of her pregnancy, Elizabeth’s mom (and dad) had dabbled in some very risky behaviors which inevitably compromised their daughter’s development. They decided right away that there was no way they could care for this child.

Two of Madison Park’s finest, Ron and Rachael Ginder had years before established a reputation for taking into their home physically and developmentally disabled children otherwise hard to place. Indeed, since the 1980’s, the Ginders have been “go-to” foster parents of choice for social welfare networks in several states. Impossible cases appear on their doorstep. Many of the children they have taken into their home have been left to die. The Ginders have cared for—and loved—over 100 profoundly disabled children over the last quarter century. When the call was placed from Denver to Anderson in late 1994, the Ginders prayerfully agreed to receive baby Elizabeth into their home; she arrived at age three months.

Some local physicians looked at Elizabeth and said, “Keep her hydrated and let nature take its course.” In other words: don’t feed her and let her die; she’ll never have a life, really; it’s impossible for her to develop in any substantive way; babies like this have no prospects. But, the Ginders believe every child holds the promise of life. They held her, fed her, dressed her up, talked to her, laughed with her, prayed with her, loved her.

In time, Elizabeth would defy medicine and express herself. Never verbally, of course, but she’d stick her tongue out contemptuously whenever she heard the voice of a doctor she didn’t like (and there were some), she’d laugh and giggle when she heard the gentle and reassuring voice of her new dad, Ron. She beamed when she found bubble-gum flavored lip gloss or recognized Big Bird. She shared a room with three other disabled Ginder girls—all with stories and challenges in common with her own.

Now in their 70’s, Ron and Rachael nevertheless adopted Elizabeth (and her three sisters-in-the-room).  On some days, Elizabeth wanted to be left alone; she would rest and revel in the quiet. But, on most days, she loved to be engaged by everyone who came by.  I know, because she engaged me, too, when I stopped in to visit.

Elizabeth passed away this month, just a few days shy of her fifteenth birthday. It was my privilege to preside over her memorial service, which ended with the astonishingly appropriate lyric (by her parent’s request) from Don Moen’s “If You Could See Me Now.” I spoke about the value of Elizabeth’s life and legacy:  because she was given a chance to thrive, she did; the medical community has learned much about the prospects of young lives like hers, thanks to her journey and achievements. I spoke about the New Testament promise of a new, heavenly body, for all of us, someday. And, I referenced Jesus’ own words (recorded in Matthew 18), when He observed that we must all be “humble children” to find our place in His Kingdom and that when we welcome any child in His name (as the Ginders have so amazingly done), we welcome Him, too. Ron and Rachael have, in a most extraordinary way, cared for Jesus in their home.

In a world driven by convenience and pleasure, in a world in which we crave comfort and ease, in a world that too often defines “quality of life” and “value of life” through the dark lens of how we might be troubled or challenged by it, Elizabeth Ann Ginder bears eloquent witness to the unspeakable wonder of life itself, breathed by God into flesh and bone. Every child is precious. Never forget that.

If you’d like to work with Jesus by loving children, contact Pastor Paula Spear in Children’s Ministries.