(1 Samuel 1:27)
Dear Friends,
Ten days late for delivery, I waddled and followed Don to the Marion Hospital. Eighteen hours later, there he was—nine pounds, two ounces—complete with all his parts, DNA, personality, and dispositions. Stephen was a beautiful child. I admit he looked more like his father; he had so much hair that the nurse tied it up.
He was on constant parade at the hospital; everyone was curious about the Polston baby. I overheard a nurse say, “I am so tired of showing that Polston baby!” I was hurt and wanted to take him right home, but I had to stay an extra week for added healing. I didn’t have enough milk for his huge appetite, and then I got milk fever. We helped him acclimate to formula.
We took him to a restaurant for the first time in my original big-doll basket. We thought the jute-box music was offensive, so we covered his ears.
We also decided that I should complete a year of teaching so I could receive my life license. Don bathed, fed, and put Stephen in his playpen with his toys while he studied. A lady from church took care of him in the afternoon until I got home. (And I was anxious to get my share of him!)
We had no nursery at church. While I played the piano, Mrs. Ice sat by me and cared for our son. She came with her Stephen-bag, full of entertainment.
It was a sad day when Mr. and Mrs. Ice were killed by a drunk driver. Six orphaned children remained. We will never forget the overwhelming emotions when two caskets were rolled to the front of the church followed by six broken children.
When Stephen was still an infant, he fell asleep in the middle of the bed. We propped him up with a wall of blankets on each side. Don called me outside for something, and in a few minutes we came back and were horrified that Stephen was not there.
“Call the police! Get the neighbor! Somebody took him!” Then we saw a bootie sticking out from underneath the bed. He had never rolled over! How did he do it?
When we pulled him out, his tears were mixed with fuzzy balls. He seemed oblivious to our concerns. Stephen was full of surprises.
One morning in church, after Stephen found that he could get places on his knees, he wiggled from my lap and was in a fast crawl toward his father at the pulpit. A “big” man on the board leaped from his seat to stop him, saying, “Catch that kid!” Mercifully, I got there first and returned the crawler to my lap.
You know how Mama Bear reacts when someone gets near her cub—Mama Bear says, “You touch him, you’re dead!” After a few minutes of Mama Bear, I told myself, “Get a grip, girl.” I concluded that the poor guy was just a grumpy man; he was definitely on my prayer hit-list.
It’s strange how God sets us up. The same angry man who chased Stephen down the aisle lived across the street and had a couple of things to tell us. He documented our coming and going; he even knew where we shopped. He proceeded to tell us that it was more appropriate to shop in our small town instead of the grocery store eight miles away. Were we being stalked?
I couldn’t have imagined that this man would be one of God’s choice servants in my extreme makeover. I didn’t know that “babylon is a golden cup in God’s hand” (Jeremiah 51:7). God called Nebuchadnezzar “my servant” (Jeremiah 25:9). God’s use of evil is something the devil doesn’t count on, and too often, neither do we. “And we know that in all things God works for the good . . .” (Romans 8:28). Faith is always born having to win with a difficult person or impossible circumstances. I found mine.
Without need, there is no supply. Supply has your name on it and belongs to your need. “Thou hast enlarged me when I was in distress” (Psalm 4:1). Don’t waste your distress! It’s taking you to someplace and to Someone.
Stephen has been a wonderful miracle. He’s a world changer with a tender heart. His loyalty to family-roots and those who have blessed his life is unsurpassed. He continually prays and speaks life into others. Thank You, Jesus, for the baby, the teen, and the man: Stephen Michael Polston.
From the love of a mother,
Ruth Ann