Surprised

by Patti Yotter

I never wanted to have children as I was positive I'd be a lousy mother, but maybe God's timing was right. This adventure began at the prison where I've been teaching. His mother came up to me after a class and said, "I was injected with heroin when I was 12 to be used in child prostitution. I'm 44 now and have never been without drugs, alcohol and cigarettes in my body. I am hopeless and can never change. My oldest son is in prison on homicide charges. I don't know if my youngest one can be saved." I didn't know what to say except "Can you read?" When she said yes I brought her a book the next day and thus began her journey towards wholeness. I agreed to take her 10-year-old son into my home.

When Travis arrived, he had been in a foster home with 4 other foster children for almost 3 years. There was little individual attention, but I suspect the woman was more overwhelmed than uncaring. He was a package of perpetual motion and volcanic rage which needed little to erupt. Throwing, kicking, running away, climbing somewhere high and throwing taunts and curses like stones were daily occurrences. His teacher was actually afraid of him.

His first 7 years were in the home of his mother, an addict who had turned dealer to support her habit. His earliest memories were of the constant stream of people coming to buy drugs, the continual background of loud music, shouting, smoky air and constant "parties." He remembers the police sitting across the street doing surveillance for a year and being always fearful when his mother left the house that the cops would get her and he'd never see her again. She never sent him to school so he learned to read from his foster mother.

I did find I had a talent for mothering though. When he arrived he was painfully shy and skinny from under nourishment. He was barely at a second grade level in school and would not speak out for anything. I remembered at FAW when we talked about lifting our heads and speaking as if what we had to say was important, so he and I worked on that. It turns out the kid was brilliant. My guess is had he been in a more functional home from the beginning, he'd have been one of those prodigies who was ready for college at 12. It took me two days to teach him the multiplication tables and by the end of the second week we were doing algebraic equations.

At the end of the school year, he aced the standardized tests, scoring as high as 11th grade in several subjects and none below 8th. He moved from barely legible printing to quite skilled cursive. His extreme rage problem was practically gone. He grew 5 (no exaggeration) sizes, and one of his favorite activities was our daily prayer and meditation sessions -- sitting still and deep breathing for as much as 30 minutes at a time (since the social services department said he was extremely hyperactive and ADHD, that was quite an accomplishment for him). By the third week of school (I sent him to a parochial school) they said they weren't sure he was going to be allowed to stay. I suggested they promote him to the fourth grade. They never had a problem from him after that. He also was no longer wetting the bed.

I thought I was going to have him permanently as it looked as though his mother would be returned to prison, but she was not. He is now in south Florida with her and doing very well (as is she). I realize I sound like an over zealous parent (my apologies). The miracle was his doing and God's grace -- he worked so hard on himself that year, I was overwhelmed to be allowed to share in the process.

Of course he's not perfect. He still gets upset; he still refuses to do homework; occasionally stays out a little late, whines about getting up in the morning--- but it is typical, ordinary kid stuff. There have been a couple of occasions when his mother called me and put him on the phone because he was out of control, but on the whole he is doing well.

His mother celebrated her first year of sobriety in September. She's working full time and starts at the junior college in January. Actually, she hasn't had drugs, alcohol or cigarettes for almost four years, but the first 3 were in prison so she doesn't count them. So God is at work here in South Florida, changing me and making life sweeter for one little boy.

Patti Yotter writes from Havana FL.

Another article by Patti Yotter: Does God Know Who I Am? -- growing up as an identical triplet meant getting names mixed up, but God knew me.