Lord, I Give You My Heart - Pt. I

Mike and Laurie Heath already had two children when their son, Kevin was born. Their son, Jason, was six, and their daughter, Bethany, was two. They thought they knew what to expect. However, a short time after Kevin’s birth, they got unexpected news.

“God’s grace is sufficient...I still get to cry.”

Their pediatrician came into Laurie’s hospital room. Mike had already gone home and Laurie was alone. With his eyes looking down at the floor the doctor said, “I’m pretty sure Kevin has Down Syndrome.” Laurie called Mike, crying as she told him the news. 

“God’s grace is sufficient,” Laurie said.
“Well, why are you crying?” Mike replied over the phone.
“Well, I still get to cry,” replied Laurie.

Dashed expectations are common with any kind of adverse medical news, especially about a child. The Heaths had expectations similar to any parents: that Kevin would go to school, followed by college, a career, and family. With his diagnosis, all of that seemed like a big question mark.

Though many people might have struggled with their faith or doubted God’s love, Laurie and Mike leaned into God’s love and providence. But that didn’t mean they were without fear. 

“You know, I'm scared to death. I've not done this before...just absolute terror.”

“I didn't really have a struggle, as far as a crisis of faith or anything,” Laurie said. “I knew that God knew Kevin before we did and he made him the way he is. And so it's our job and responsibility to nurture him as best we can.”

The Heath’s spiritual doubts were few but they still had fears. “You know, I'm scared to death,” Mike said. “I've not done this before...just absolute terror.”

The fears they had often centered on practical concerns and “What ifs.”

“How do we do this?
“What if he has this?”
“What if he has that?”
“What if this happens?’”

The Heaths became experts in hope.

When the time for crying was over, the time for research began. Laurie dove into articles and books and consulted with doctors about Kevin. In many of the works she consulted, there was an attitude of hopelessness and futility. According to some of these books, there was simply a plateau in Kevin’s future that he would never rise above. Laurie threw the gloomiest of these texts into the garbage. She didn’t want it showing up on a used book store shelf to discourage anyone else.

Despite the doom and gloom portrayed in these medical books, the Heaths continued to hold on to hope for Kevin’s future. The Heaths became experts in hope. Clinging to God’s sufficient grace, they decided to do all they could to help Kevin achieve his full potential. 

In that way, and in many others, the Heaths treated Kevin no differently than any other child. Their philosophy with all their children was to simply raise them up and help them go as far as they can go. Kevin was no different. Whatever was to come, they would face it together as a family.

A little while later, Kevin's diagnosis of Down syndrome was confirmed. Laurie called Mike at work. “Go talk to David,” she told him. “Just go in his office and close the door and sit down and talk to David.” 

David Cunningham’s family and the Heaths had been friends for years. The Cunninghams were raising a child with Spina Bifida. Laurie described it as God paving the way for them. Before Kevin was even conceived, God placed people who could empathize into the Heaths’ lives. They were people who would know their anxious thoughts, who were familiar with their fears, who had dealt with their doubts, and who could graciously give understanding comfort.

“Kevin's been given to us...to bring joy to us and to minister to us, and we minister to him.”

With friends to minister to their fears and hope to minister to their doubts, the Heaths found another blessing of God. Kevin himself ministered to them.

When you discuss Kevin Heath with people who know him, joy is a common theme. Kevin is a source of joy. He brings joy to his parents and siblings. He brings joy to his extended family. He brings joy to teachers and others who work with him. He brings joy with him when he comes to church, typically dressed in a tie and with his cross necklace. There is also joy in how he tenderly carries and opens his Bible, treating it as a dear treasure.

Laurie remembers thinking, “‘What a lucky little boy he is to have his older brother and older sister.’ Through the years, they have loved him and helped care for him without complaining. And he adores them.” Kevin’s older brother, Jason, remembers, “Growing up with Kevin taught me the meaning of being my brother's keeper and made me a kinder, more patient person.” His sister, Bethany, learned an important lesson from Kevin. “Being able to perceive others as ‘different’ while still being able to treat them equally, with kindness, and as another human being (same as you), puts so much more good out into the world than looking down on others based on how they were born and what they may not be able to do.”

In one context, Kevin might be seen as someone who needs our ministry, our help, our support, and all that is true. But in an equally valid context, Kevin is one who ministers to us. He helps us remember to rejoice in the scriptures and in worship. Kevin encourages us with his uncomplicated love and acceptance of us, and he humbles the wise with his simple expressions of God’s love and truth.

“I just feel like Kevin's been given to us,” Laurie says, “to bring joy to us and to minister to us. And we minister to him.”