His Grace Is Sufficient!

Chapter 1

Who Am I?

The year is 1956, and I have no idea who I am.

Do you know about your infant and toddler years? Do you have photographs to look at that reveal your whole story? Now imagine not being able to look back beyond your fifth year of life. Imagine not knowing anything about your parents or family. There are no pictures, no baby books, and no relatives to fill in the gap. It is as though your life began when you were five years old. Who am I? The question begins to surface, but there is nothing—nothing—to grab hold of for answers. What would you do?

My first memory takes me back to Milton, West Virginia, in 1955. My brother, Steve, and I lived on a small farm in the foster care of the Lewis family. Mr. and Mrs. Lewis had two children of their own—along with at least three other foster children. During those years, I was known as Jimmy Ying. I was four years old and vaguely remember bits and pieces of Easter, summer, and Christmas.

I vividly recall Christmas in 1955. I don’t really know why—except maybe because it was the year I got my teddy bear. There was no snow that Christmas, and my main concern seemed to be how Santa would get to the house since there was no snow for him to ride his sleigh on. I remember Jerry assuring me that Santa used a helicopter to get around when there was no snow. That worked for me, and the next thing I remember was the sound of a bell clanging at the bottom of the stairs and a hearty “ho, ho, ho” booming up the staircase. We ran down the narrow staircase to the Christmas tree, which was just a few feet from the stair landing. Presents were everywhere and were quickly doled out to us kids. It was then that I opened the box revealing a brown and yellow teddy bear. It was about two feet tall with plastic eyes and snout and a bright red ribbon tied in a bow around his neck. That bear would prove to be my truest companion for many years to come.

Certainly, there have been many, many Christmases since then, but for whatever reason, that Christmas of 1955 has always stood out as one of the most memorable. You may be wondering how I knew it was 1955, and the answer is quite simple. The following year was to be a monumental year for both Steve and me—a year that would greatly affect our lives even to this very day.

Chapter 2

The Visit

At the beginning of 1956, Steve and I were told that we were going on a visit with our social lady, Mrs. Morgan. On a cold and very snowy January morning, we were bundled up and sent off with Mrs. Morgan for the visit. As we came closer to the end of Saunders Creek Road, Mrs. Morgan stopped the car and explained that we were going to visit some very nice people and asked if we would like to stay with these people or just visit. Being the more extroverted one, I immediately responded that I wanted to stay. Steve, sitting quietly in the back seat, hesitantly said, “Just visit.”

I don’t really recall how long Mrs. Morgan stayed at the house with us. During lunch, the conversation concerned how long we would be staying with the DeJarnett family. Steve, again, commented that we would just be visiting, but I insisted that we would be staying. Mrs. DeJarnett simply commented that we would visit but could do so as long as we wanted.

Chapter 7

A Near-Death Experience

On a Sunday night in April 1964, I went to bed feeling somewhat uneasy in my stomach. I awoke the next morning feeling much worse. As usual, Steve and I were the only ones up at six, getting ready for school and grabbing a quick breakfast before walking to the school bus stop. I couldn’t eat anything that morning and told Steve that I was sick, but he insisted that I would be all right and urged me on to school.

The next day was no better, and I spent the entire day in my makeshift bed. During the early hours of Wednesday morning, I was awakened by a tremendous pain in my abdominal area. As the pain grew, I guessed it must be a tremendous gas pain and thought it would eventually subside. I was right. It did subside after a while. As the pain seemed to peak and began to go away, I felt something inside that I had never felt before. It felt like something oozing throughout the inside of my abdominal area. The next morning, Mrs. Means came upstairs and took my temperature. It was 103 degrees. Without saying a word, she hurried downstairs. I heard her talking on the phone with a doctor’s office.

Chapter 9

Being Institutionalized Ain’t So Bad

Davis-Stuart Home for Children was set on about three hundred acres of cornfields, hayfields, and lots of pastureland. There was also a large dairy of about one hundred Holstein cattle and about fifty beef cattle. These, of course, provided for the milk and beef products needed for the children’s home.

I had been on the job all of about five minutes when Lemons—we always called him by his last name—handed me a bucket of soapy water and a sponge and said, “Wash down the cows.” That was something new. In all of my experience of milking cows on the farm at Salt Rock, I had never been asked to “wash down a cow.” However, as LuAnne’s groom for her horses, it was common to wash them down just before a horse show and rub them down at the end of each workout. So, drawing upon my vast experience of animal husbandry, taking my bucket of soapy water and sponge in hand, I began to wash down one of the cows. I figured working from the top down was the best approach.