by Granny Girl
I'm using initials for names to protect identities.
Early last Sunday morning I got a call from my niece, R, in Florida. She was crying and said her son, C, had been shot in the head.
R had been a caseworker for foster children when she met C. She was fresh out of college and he was a teenager who had been passed around his whole life. Both of his parents had drug addictions. His daddy died first, then his mama died of a drug overdose when C was fourteen . He was put into the foster care system. He had quite a few siblings scattered about, but the ones who were put into foster care with him were his sister, D, and his two brothers, Ch and T. They also had a younger brother who had been adopted at birth but who still kept in touch with them. I don't know how old C was when R became his case worker, but she fell in love with this boy. He was a scamp and a clown. His siblings all got adopted, but R had to keep finding new homes for C to be placed in. She tried everything, but his mouth and his "bucking up" as she called it, always made the families give him back.
R stayed close to this kid. She picked him up on Sundays at whatever foster home he was in and took him to church. She led him to the Lord and showed him all the love he had never received from a mom. C aged out of foster care and took to the streets. He soon ended up in prison for three years. During this time, R lost her mother, got married, and had a baby. She and her husband made it to the prison once to see C. He showed her the tattoo of her name on his arm, and he called her Mom.
When he got out of prison they moved him into their little house where he slept on the couch. They helped him get a job and a car. C's brother Ch moved in with them. His adoptive dad had kicked him out when he turned eighteen and he needed a family, too. C and Ch had always stuck by each other.
Soon after C moved in, R and her husband approached him about how he felt about them adopting him as an adult so he would have a forever family. He was so tickled. Here they are on the day they signed the papers to start the adoption process.
C worked hard at his job and tried to make it as a man. He moved in with his fiance and their baby son. R and her husband were like the parents of any young man, alternating between being so proud of him they could bust and so aggravated they wanted to kick him. R's husband was usually the one who would give C another chance, and he would talk R into calming down and letting their son back into her good graces.
Then, a little over a week ago, C and his good friend D went to their usual Saturday night card game. Around midnight some teenagers came to the door who wanted to come in and play cards with them. The guy whose apartment they were in told them to go away because it was late and they were about to close down the game. It grew into a loud argument so D stepped between the guy and the teenagers and managed to get them to walk away and he closed the door. I don't know how much time lapsed between them walking away and another knock on the door. When the guy in the apartment opened the door, one of the teenagers held up a gun, closed his eyes, and shot. C was walking from the kitchen to the living room when the bullet hit him in the head.
When R called me, I knew I had to go. I prayed for provision and put the word out with my ladies' Bible study group. One of the ladies immediately texted me and said she was bringing over $200. When I got to church, I asked the other teachers in the Pre-K department to pray for my niece and her family, and to pray for provision so I could go be with her. One of the teachers turned and went to her purse and came back with $100. Then my mom sent me a check via my brother who had been spending a few days with her. The amount she gave me combined with what my friends gave me completely covered the cost of the plane ticket. God provided exactly what I needed and provided it exactly on time!
When I arrived at the hospital Tuesday afternoon, R told me they had finalized the adoption. The judge had actually stopped a trial he was presiding over and met them in chambers to sign the papers. The $500 fee was waived and the filing of the papers was expedited. The new parents wanted to take on the responsibility of this critically injured young man so his siblings wouldn't have the financial and emotional burden of making the end of life decisions. Their maturity and grace astounds me.
The hospital had put C on a ventilator when his breathing slowed. When the brain scan showed no activity R and her husband decided to take him off the ventilator. They understood there was no hope for any recovery and the doctors had told them his body was shutting down. C's siblings had a difficult time accepting the finality of his condition and kept a vigil at his bedside so they could be there when he woke up. There was some tension between the siblings and the parents, but it was handled with an amazing amount of grace and love. C kept breathing after being taken off the ventilator and was moved to a hospice wing of the hospital. We all took turns watching over him. Here is his mom clipping his nails and lotioning his hands while his fiance looks on.
I flew back to Texas Friday evening. R spent the night at C's bedside, then went home to spend some time with her husband and baby girl. She had been saying all week that C didn't want anyone to see him die. She was right. He breathed his last breath on Saturday afternoon.
They're all still in waiting mode. The medical examiner's office came and took the body to legally determine the cause of death. If it is determined to be the gunshot wound, as we all expect it will be, then the shooter will be charged with murder. As far as I know, the shooter has not been apprehended.
A kaleidoscope of images keeps going through my head. C's sweet friend who was seven months pregnant saying she wouldn't leave him because he never left her. She spent days and nights at his bedside. C's friend who witnessed the shooting and was afraid to sleep after that. I quoted Psalm 4:8 to him, "I will both lie down in peace and sleep. For You alone, O Lord, make me dwell in safety." He said, "Can you write that down?" C's older sister, just 23 years old, alternating between confused, sad, and angry. C's brother, age 20, who couldn't stand to be in the room more than 10 minutes at a time, but he came back every day. C's 17 year old brother standing at his bedside with his Marines t-shirt on and his adoptive dad's hand on his shoulder. He was so angry he wouldn't look at anyone or answer any questions. All of these beautiful people are so terribly young and their lives are so incredibly hard. They handled it all with such dignity. Like C's knuckle tattoo, they are 100% real.
