Judy was probably the closest friend I ever had. She didn’t write this story you are reading, but she did ask me to tell it. What I have written is probably not at all how she would have told it. For one thing, she would have made it much longer. She always had so much to say. It is, however, how I saw God writing His story throughout her remarkable life. 

I met Judy in 1979 in Long Island, New York where we both lived with our young families. Judy was young, bright, vivacious, friendly, full of laughter, and always ready to tell you how much she loved Jesus. We formed a tight friendship very quickly. It was one of those young, housewife-type friendships—we called each other almost every morning. We often met at each other’s homes for lunch, we took the kids to the park together, and fairly frequently our families ate dinner together. 

Judy and her husband had only one daughter, and giving birth had been a traumatic experience for Judy—one in which she and the baby almost didn’t live through. So there would be no more pregnancies. But by then, both Judy and her daughter, Alyssa, were happy and healthy. My oldest child, Theron, was a couple years younger than Alyssa, but their fun-loving and outgoing personalities made them good playmates.

Judy was never one to be a stranger anywhere she went, so she knew a lot of people. She was insightful and wise in her Christian faith, something that was good for me to be around at that time in my life. We didn’t always see eye to eye on every topic, but she never withheld her friendship for any reason. Ever eager to share her opinion, she was also always open to hearing another viewpoint. One of the things I came to really understand as a result of our talks, was the sovereignty of God; and as I look back now, there is no doubt that God interwove our lives together back then in a way that would slowly reveal His purposes later. He generously used each of us in the other’s life.

Around 1980, Judy and her family moved away. They came back once to visit us in New York City and told us they were adopting a son, Jonathan. Soon, we also left New York and as so often happens when moves are involved, we lost touch with each other.

A decade later, we were settled in Pennsylvania and were having dinner with some fairly new friends. To our surprise, these friends began talking about Judy and her husband. We learned that their lives were in turmoil. Alyssa had grown into a beautiful and musically talented woman and had a promising career ahead of her as she entered a well-known Christian university. But it seemed those dreams quickly dissolved as she married, divorced, quit college, and entered into the world of alcohol and drug addiction. Recently, our friends said, she had disappeared without a trace.


Young Judy

We, of course, got Judy’s and her husband’s contact information and gave them a call. From those first phone calls, we learned much had changed in their lives just as much had changed in ours—one of those changes being the deterioration of our marriages. After a few weeks, Alyssa did show up in an out-of-state jail and from there came back to Florida where her family was. Disappearing and then reappearing in jail, getting married and divorced, buying drugs, stealing or prostituting herself to pay for drugs, being homeless, getting pregnant—these all were to become patterns of Alyssa’s life as she continued to spiral downward. 

There were few bright spots, except the babies she was giving birth to. After the first baby, Xavier, Judy hoped that Alyssa would settle and care for him. But before long, she was gone and in a new relationship. Judy and her husband agreed to raise the baby, along with their own adopted son who was now in his early teens. But Judy’s husband was dissatisfied with life and had little interest in raising another child. A few years later when Judy agreed to take in the next baby, Dylan, it seemed to drive another nail into the coffin of their marriage. Judy called to tell me that they were divorcing.

Our calls became frequent and before long, I was telling Judy that I had separated from my husband. We became sounding boards and prayer partners as we both went through the end of our marriages and found ourselves as single mothers. For Judy, it was total desertion. Once the divorce papers were signed, there was no more financial support and she never saw her husband again. Neither did the children or grandchildren. Yet, her confidence that God would provide for them never wavered. She worked hard at trying to provide a stable homelife.  

For me, Judy became one of my most understanding friends and advisors as we travelled down similar roads together, albeit hundreds of miles apart.  She pointed to relevant scripture passages, suggested books and resources, and she seemed to know a lot of Christians who had gone through similar situations, sharing their stories with me. She accurately predicted the ambivalence of my emotions, and transparently divulged her own. 

Ultimately, the decision of whether to wait and see if my husband would repent and return or whether I should file for divorce was a decision that only I could make while seeking God’s will, she wrote me. She assured me it was alright to go back and forth for a while. Judy was a cancer survivor, and she said the emotions and decision-making process was similar. She urged me to spend my often-sleepless nights in prayer. But her best advice was to never stop praying that God would have mercy on my husband and call him to repentance, no matter how far apart we grew. That, she said, should be a top priority.

Obviously, Judy knew many people’s stories because of the kind of friend she was. She shared her own life and listened as others shared theirs. She prayed for everyone and loved them hard, doing whatever she could for others even though it might be a sacrifice for her to do so. Her sharing other peoples’ stories was not at all like gossip, but of how God was working in the lives of His children and how that should encourage us and help us in our similar struggles. But Judy was headstrong as well. She wanted you to listen to all that she said—and sometimes that came across to me as pushy, rather than helpful. I would have to remind myself that it wasn’t her intention to offend.


Young Alyssa

Judy settled in South Florida in a two-bedroom apartment. Her son was still with her and finished high school, but found Judy’s rules were difficult to obey and left home. Alyssa stayed with Judy during sober periods. She next gave birth to a daughter, Katie. Judy chose to homeschool as the children became school age, but that had its difficulties as well. Both the boys were on the autism spectrum, which required special resources. Nevertheless, these were fairly good years. Katie took dance classes. There was an Olympic sized public pool within walking distance. They were in a good church and had many friends who helped them out from time to time. 

Katie was four when Ashton came along. Alyssa was around less and less. The landlord warned Judy that there were too many children living in the apartment. She worried, but she couldn’t find any other place that she could afford. Then baby Giovanni joined them unexpectedly. Alyssa hadn’t been home, and Judy had no idea she was even pregnant until a week or two before the birth. Not only that, but because Alyssa had used drugs throughout the pregnancy, Giovanni was born deaf and blind and cried constantly. He regained these senses early on, but this was only because Judy had to provide constant care, following the necessary protocol for drug addicted babies to withdraw. 

The landlord tried to be merciful but there was only so much he could do. Finally, they had to move. There was a period when the family became homeless, staying with friends, or wandering from one low income place to another. Judy would tell me about all this during phone calls, and though I wanted to help somehow, I had nothing to give and no advice to offer. I could only encourage her and pray for her. Alyssa got pregnant one last time. During that birth, Alyssa was told she had cancer and needed surgery. She ignored the doctor’s warning. Judy picked Faith up from the hospital. I can’t remember where Judy was living just then, but no place permanently.

Many well-meaning friends criticized Judy for taking in her grandchildren. She had no way to provide for them financially, and as they grew, it was becoming more and more difficult for her to care and nurture them well. Although, I could understand why she would want to; she had lost her family and these children were all she had left. Besides, Alyssa would only give them to Judy. She never wanted to place them for adoption or have them enter the state foster system. 

On the other hand, with Judy agreeing to take them, there was little accountability for Alyssa; she was enabled to continue in her drug culture lifestyle. I questioned Judy’s judgement to myself, but refrained from saying much to her, as I could see her pattern of withdrawing from those who disagreed with her. Even then, I prayed for some answer that would save these children from all the dysfunction in their lives.

The worse things got, the more headstrong and determined Judy became to do things her way. She had always been one to go to her pastor or elder for counsel—but after feeling betrayed by these figures during her divorce and in her decisions to keep the children, she acted independently. Often her pleas to her friends for help sounded more like orders to obey and criticism for those who didn’t. She was no longer living near the church she had been going to, so she didn’t really settle into any church. 


Judy & Alyssa as an adult

But she prayed. She trusted that God would take care of her and the children. It is difficult for me to imagine all of the struggles going on in Judy’s heart and mind as her life changed so quickly—her husband and son gone, her daughter caught up in evil, and babies rapidly being introduced. She, like many of us, had formidable control issues that riddled her with constant anxiety. Even so, her heart’s desire, apparent to all who knew her, was unceasingly to please God.

Moving from one bad living situation to another, she one day found herself in a park in Port Saint Lucie. She literally had no clue where to go next and had gone to the park to let the kids play. She got to talking to a woman who was there with her son. The woman’s name was Grace and she was a Christian. Her husband was a pastor. They had just moved from a rental house into their own home and their rental was available. That’s the short version, which isn’t the exact way that Judy told it to me later. But there was no doubt in my mind that God had arranged that meeting between Judy and Grace.

Grace and her husband, Christopher, became good friends to Judy and began ministering to this family in many ways—too many to write about here. But once again, life for Judy settled down a bit. Just a bit. Trying to keep up with homeschooling, caring for six rambunctious children, taking on a writing project, applying for and obtaining state support for the children—wasn’t all that easy. And then, in the midst of all this, Judy’s cancer came back with a vengeance. 

The side effects of the first chemo treatments were horrific. Judy would call me in the evenings—maybe nine or ten o’clock. She would lie in bed all day and would be crying from neuropathy pain. I could hear the children running wild in the background. We would talk, we would pray. “I need someone to come stay with me,” she would say. Then she would talk about the people she had asked, and perhaps one would come in a few weeks. She asked me to come, but I was trying to keep my house from foreclosure. “Maybe if I didn’t have the house and a child still in school,” I had said. “But I just can’t right now.”

Things just got worse for Judy, as well as for the children. Some of the Christian folk trying to help had pushed an agenda to get the children away from her. This only caused Judy to retreat into her house and not let the children be seen in public. Doctors had given Judy a time frame to live—maybe six months to a year or two. Judy worried about what would happen to the children when she died. She had certain people she wanted to take them. I was one of those people. She frantically made plans and changed them as folks declined to commit to what she was asking.

Finally, when Judy believed she really did have only six more months to live, when she became totally overwhelmed and her household was completely out of control, I agreed to move to Florida to help. My house had sold, and my daughter had finished her first year of college and was set for the second. I didn’t know what would happen, but I couldn’t imagine what I would have done had I been in Judy’s place. I would definitely want someone to help me; and after much prayer, I felt like I was in a position to help when no one else could. 


Alyssa as an adult

The plan was for me to have my own bedroom and bath, and we would see what happened. If things got better, I could get a job and my own place. Judy thought if they got worse, I could do the same—maybe with her children in tow. I packed up everything I owned and went. I barely recognized the woman who embraced me at the door. Though we were the same age, she looked a great deal older and very fragile. Six healthy children, totally out of control, ran about. The house was unkempt and in complete disarray. Overcome emotionally by what I saw, I questioned whether I had heard God’s direction to come correctly. 

In some ways it was like Judy and I had never been apart. That same ability to talk, to transparently share our thoughts and desires, to reminisce—it all came back quickly. I got to know the kids. They had lived so long with no supervision and few rules, but they were loving, curious, full of energy, and thankful to have someone who wasn’t sick and dying move in and give them attention. 

Faith was three, had a hard time sleeping, and wasn’t totally potty-trained, so we worked on that. Four-year-old Giovanni and his big brown eyes totally melted my heart. He asked if I had come to be the new mom as he cuddled with me. Ashton had beautiful blue eyes and was really smart. He learned to read while I was there. Katie and I talked a lot. At eleven years old, she wanted friends and to be free to explore what happened outside her house. Dylan and Xavier were in their teens and more difficult. They resisted my rules and initially resented my intrusion into their lives. Judy mostly helped the children in making the adjustment to my taking over with cooking, cleaning, discipline, and homeschooling. But she struggled with it as well. I’m sure it was a constant reminder to her that she was coming to the end.

Shortly after I arrived, Judy’s doctors put her into a clinical trial. There were no negative side effects and the cancer cells began to diminish. The longer I stayed, the better she felt. She no longer felt the need to withdraw from the public and her friends, because her home was in better order and the children were being cared for properly. 

She began to come to church with me—to a new congregation where she hadn’t been before. The pastor’s wife there suggested that we surprise Judy by doing a much-needed makeover on her house. We enlisted the help of some other churches and one Saturday, a friend took Judy and the children out for the day. While they were gone, nearly 50 people gathered to clean and paint the inside of the house, as well as purchase and set up new furniture. It was just like a reality TV show! Judy was grateful and thrilled.

That summer of 2011 is filled with many precious memories. I often heard Judy singing hymns and reading Psalms aloud in her bedroom. Most times when she went for her treatments in South Florida, I would drive her and the children there. The kids and I would go to the park or get lunch while she had her treatment; and then afterwards, we would drive by places that she wanted me to see—the houses where she’d lived with her husband and children, her favorite beach, her church in south Florida, their favorite restaurant, the pool near that apartment where they had first lived after she became a single mom and grandma. She would stop by homes of friends and introduce us.


Judy and Katie

Our talks became headed in a direction of thinking more seriously about what to do with the children after Judy’s death. Despite the fact that this was not going as she had planned, she seemed to refuse to accept that. But there was one couple who, to me, seemed like a good possibility. That couple was Grace and Christopher—Grace from the park in Port Saint Lucie. I merely mentioned it to Judy in passing at first, but never let it slip off the list of possibilities. I had learned that was best. No one, however, could stop me from praying for it and I did.

Eventually, it became clear to me that much had been resolved in my four-month stay. I began job hunting and seeking God’s will in my next job and its location. God led me right back to Pennsylvania. As often as possible, I went back to visit, and phone calls and emails sailed back and forth, including with the children now.

The last trip was over the Christmas break of 2013. Judy still seemed to be doing fairly well. Her house was decorated nicely and she had planned fun activities with the children. The morning I left to go home, however, she called Christopher to take her to the hospital because she wasn’t feeling well. I think we both knew it was the last time we would see one another on this earth. 

During the six months after that, there were many calls between us. There was an effort to reconnect her with her son, and to get in writing who would take the children. But God was making a way. Grace and Christopher voluntarily began helping out a lot. Grace took over homeschooling the children. Christopher took Judy to medical appointments and visited her when she was hospitalized. Finally, a couple months before her death, Judy knew it was Grace and Christopher who God wanted to continue parenting and loving her children.

Judy passed away in June of 2014. I know the names of her grandchildren were foremost on her lips in prayer and in her thoughts as she slipped into eternity. Her heart’s desire had been that God would save those lives and that His hand would never leave them. Their care was her life’s work. She had introduced them to Him, and to the best of her ability, raised them to love and fear Him. Her story had ended, but not her legacy. In the next two months, I will tell you those stories.


Our last visit with Judy & the children