The Children 

By Erin Austin

This year marks the 15th year I’ve worked in a children’s home. The stories I could tell about what these children have endured would make you shudder. It’s unfathomable to me the atrocities these kids have endured, and yet we expect them to be resilient, to bounce back from something that would make adults collapse in despair. I’m not a fan of the word resilient. Most use that word to describe how a child is able to continue on despite harsh, unfair circumstances. What really happens is the child has no choice but to continue despite being hurt, traumatized, and broken.

Many of the children who live at Joy Ranch are what Mary McHenry referred to as “half-orphans,” meaning one or both of their parents are in jail, lost to drugs, or too busy with their own problems to take care of a child. Often, the children are taken in by family members who are not equipped to help a traumatized child heal. And so, they come to live at a place in the mountains of southwest Virginia where we pray they encounter the safe love of Jesus. In the words of Mary McHenry:

“Because they had been wounded emotionally to the degree that it was difficult for them to trust any adult, they were not easy to care for. They could be sullen, resentful, withdrawn, or hostile. With each move their restlessness and disturbance had increased. And, of course, their self-image was one of worthlessness, and they felt inadequate and hopeless.

“We found that the greatest healing balm was the security of a real relationship with the Lord Jesus Christ and a satisfying relationship with a Christian adult who would not withdraw his love when it was tested aggressively. In a Christian home where the child was loved and accepted, he cautiously allowed his roots to grow. And as he grew in the grace and knowledge of Christ, life took on a new meaning and hope and he was able to move toward worthwhile goals.”

While we don’t always succeed in leading others to Christ, we have the privilege of showing hurt children a different way than what they have known. Their parents’ story doesn’t have to be theirs.

However, we experience a special heartbreak for those who choose to continue down the same path as their family of origin. If you ask the staff at Joy Ranch, we can tell you about all of our kids who have held space in our hearts, even the ones who rejected what we offered. But for the ones who chose to follow Jesus and do the work to heal, there’s an indescribable joy of watching a child’s life change for the better. These children God has given us are hard, heartbreaking, and at times, intense. We’ve been in the trenches with them. We’ve been cussed at, yelled at, sometimes physically hurt, and we’ve definitely been emotionally wounded. Nothing about these kids is easy. And yet, they are also amazing. We’ve seen the miraculous as God transforms these hurt, lost souls into the young men and women God created them to be.

“Psalm 27:10 says, ‘When my father and my mother forsake me, then the Lord will take me up.’ The translation from the original Hebrew language is ‘the Lord shall gather me.’ He will take, yes, He will ‘gather up’ – the pieces of a broken heart and make a life whole again for the one who will trust Him” (Mary McHenry).

Chapter 5 from “Feed My Lambs” – The Children

Now that the first building was completed and furnished, we said, “The fold for God’s little lambs is ready to care for them.”  

The day had come for “greater things” at Joy Ranch, a day to show the power of Christ in young lives. As the world became more and more materialistic, we longed to press ahead in fullness of faith. We lifted our eyes to the horizons, where we saw youngsters at the crossroads of life coming, to Joy Ranch to be turned in the right direction and young lives that were headed for confusion and chaos brought under the peace and love of God in Christ.  

One by one, by twos and threes (and sometimes by family fives), the children came to live with us – children who had no one who was able to give them suitable full-time care, each bringing with him his own unique personality package.   

And there was always a special “heart place” for that child, a place that belonged only to him.  From those early times we have stored some of the innermost-sorts-of things that become more precious with the years. 

Like the little boy who after a Bible lesson on “Walking with Christ” told his experience:  

“One evening,” he said, “I was in bed and I felt a little bit lonesome till I remembered that Jesus said He was always with us, so I slipped over in my bed so He’d be sure and have enough room.”  

And this about 8-year-old Bobby, who was to go to the dentist for the first time. I tried to prepare him for the ordeal, explaining that sometimes the dentist has to pull the tooth – take it out – so it won’t hurt anymore. Happily he approached the dentist’s office, looking as though he were about to experience the greatest thrill he had known. But he lost some of his courage in the waiting room as the secretary in an adjoining room began to type. As the keys clicked, Bobby blinked his eyes and opened his mouth. “Boy,” he shouted, “listen to them teeth drop out!”  

The children’s prayers came straight from their hearts. A wee little boy of 4 who found his first real home and “Mama” at Joy Ranch prayed one night, “Thank you, Jesus, for lettin’ Mama hold me.” And when he saw a billboard picture of a clown with a tear in his eye, he said sadly, “He’s crying because he has no mama.”  

A few of our children were orphans, but more of them were half-orphans. Some had been deserted by one or both parents or had to be placed because their parents had been committed to penal or mental institutions. Some had to be removed from parents because of alcoholism or abuse. Some had one good, responsible parent who could not keep the family together, but most of them had suffered dire neglect and were suffering from its effects.  

As I read their case histories, I received an education I never thought possible. We had read and heard of atrocities in other countries, especially in the heathen world, but in our own United States …”   

Never! I thought. But there were the words, typed on a sheet of white paper. There was nothing white, however, about the neglect and abuse that some of the children had suffered. I wondered if they would ever be able to forget.  

Some of the children told of huddling in hollow stumps to keep warm in the wintertime. Others told of wrapping their feet in plastic because they had no shoes. In every case, however, a child, through no fault of his own, was a victim of cruel circumstances and had become an insecure, unhappy little boy or girl.  

Saddest of all, I think, were the homeless children who had been shifted from one foster home to another, wearing out themselves and the foster parents in each placement.  Because they had been wounded emotionally to the degree that it was difficult for them to trust any adult, they were not easy to care for. They could be sullen, resentful, withdrawn, or hostile. With each move their rootlessness and disturbance had increased. And, of course, their self-image was one of worthlessness, and they felt inadequate and hopeless.  

We found that the greatest healing balm was the security of a real relationship with the Lord Jesus Christ and a satisfying relationship with a Christian adult who would not withdraw his love when it was tested aggressively. In a Christian home where the child was loved and accepted, he cautiously allowed his roots to grow. And as he grew in the grace and knowledge of Christ, life took on new meaning and hope and he was able to move toward worthwhile goals.  

Were we always successful with a child? Did all the children become Christians? The answer to both questions is a sad “no.”   Take Jerry (not his real name), for instance. His mother had brought him to the Ranch and none of us had seen her since; nor did we know of her whereabouts.    

One day, a week before his 15th birthday, Jerry told us that he could not stay at Joy Ranch any longer. Nothing he had been taught seemed to matter to him. He longed for the freedom of the unknown. He longed to drink of the forbidden fountain.  The week before, Jerry had sent this word to someone:  “Ask my mother if she wants me. If she doesn’t, this is it.”  He received no answer, and Jerry left us – for the unknown.  

This to me was the keenest of heartaches.  The day Jerry left, I read in Amy Carmichael’s book Gold Cord a quote that began to wring a dripping response from my own heart. 

“ ‘But what hast thou lacked with me that, behold, thou seekest to go to thine own country? And he answered,  Nothing; howbeit let me go in any wise.’ ” And Amy added, speaking of the children at Dohnavur in India, “There was nothing lacking in the love that we folded round the children, but we could not undo what had been done before they came to us.”  

However, there were other instances when a forsaken child was not lost to us. A boy was brought to the Ranch by his father, who then disappeared. The child received no visits, no letters, no communications whatever. But that boy is now a faithful Christian and has established a Christian home.   

Psalm 27:10 says: “When my father and my mother  forsake me, then the Lord will take me up.” The translation from the original Hebrew language is “the Lord shall gather me.” He will take – yes, he will “gather up” – the pieces of a broken heart and make a life whole again for the one who will trust Him.