I Will Love You Forever

by Cori Salchert

  Afterward I found these verses in Acts 2:

  “Men of Israel, listen to these words. Jesus the Nazarene, a man attested to you by God with miracles and wonders and signs which God performed through him in your midst, just as you yourselves know, you know he was God. You nailed him to a cross, you godless people. But he was delivered up to you by the predetermined plan of God.” (vv. 22–23, AT)

  Then I thought: Don’t anybody tell me this can’t be.

  If God could plan the death of His own righteous Son, why couldn’t He plan the death of my dad?”1

  When I contemplate the death of my little sister, Amie, laying it out again before God and asking for Him to continue to redeem it, I don’t believe it was an accident. There is no way she died without God’s knowing and planning it. She was legally blind. She found an unlocked door to the outside of the building and then she found a way to get off the fenced property. She was wandering about the golf course during daylight hours. She was apparently invisible, because no one saw her and intervened to keep her from drowning. I’m not sure you’ll understand how it is comforting to me to know how many things had to fall perfectly into place for her to die; it couldn’t have been random.

  I am now much steadier in my trust of God, truly believing that “He is before all things, and in Him all things consist” (Colossians 1:17 NKJV). He is in control. I would rather know He is ultimately and intimately in control of everything than for even a brief second think He is somehow incapacitated by the ruler of this world. Satan cannot cause anything to happen that God has not ordained. And all that God does is for His glory. He knew all of us before we were formed in our mothers’ wombs, and He knew the number of our days before even one of them began.

  Ravi Zacharias penned these words:

  “When God is our Holy Father, sovereignty, holiness, omniscience, and immutability do not terrify us; they leave us full of awe and gratitude. Sovereignty is only tyrannical if it is unbounded by goodness; holiness is only terrifying if it is un-tempered by grace; omniscience is only taunting if it is unaccompanied by mercy; and immutability is only torturous if there is no guarantee of goodwill. Thanks be to God, we know with a surety that His grace and goodness and hope and His love underlie all of these attributes.”2

  Someday I’m going to better understand how the evil in the world is being worked together for the glory of God. In the meantime I know that Jesus cares about my pain. He fully empathizes with my heartache and the sense of injustice in this life. He promises it will all be made right. God not only promises to perfect me, but He also promises to perfect all things that concern me. The words of Psalm 138:8 fill me with this hope: “The LORD will accomplish what concerns me; Your lovingkindness, O LORD, is everlasting; do not forsake the works of Your hands” (NASB).

  I do not have it all figured out, not by a long shot, but the redemption of my sister’s life and death in the course of my life is unmistakable. Without all the suffering and tragedy I have endured, I would not have the empathy and compassion necessary to care for terminally ill children in my home. I have a hope of life beyond the grave—the hope of heaven and of life beyond this world. Make no mistake, if this life was it, I would not be doing what I do. But my God is good, my God is faithful, and He rewards those who seek Him and do what He commands. I mean it with my whole heart when I say I love these children who have been given to us for just a little time on earth, and I will indeed love them forever.

  We invest deeply, and we ache terribly when these kids die, but our hearts are like stained glass windows made of broken glass that has been bonded back together. Those windows are even stronger and more beautiful for having been broken.

  A FAMILY PERSPECTIVE

  Here are some insights from a few more of my kids and Mark.

  Charity, age 21

  I’ve mentioned this often to my friends, and I’ll say it again here: I think it’s one of the coolest things that God makes babies cute. I mean, how much easier is it to take care of screaming children when they are super adorable? That is an aspect of God’s work that I am very grateful for.

  We started in this medical treatment foster care business with the cutest and easiest-to-love baby girl. So thank God for that one!

  Although it was easy and fun to take care of Emmalynn, I remember being a little unsure of my mom’s decision because Emmalynn was going to die and she needed a family to take care of her. Of course I was going to help! Because of the hope I have in Christ of eternal life in heaven, the idea of taking care of a baby who was going to die was much easier. I knew she was going to die, but I also believed she had heaven to look forward to. I wanted to love her even though I knew it would hurt when she died. I praise God for that kind of strength, because I know it wasn’t my own.

  Taking care of Emmalynn reminded me of what a family should be like. Or even more personally, what I should be like. My life should not be centered on only taking care of myself and no one else. God has called me to love Him and to love others. Taking care of Emmalynn reminded my family and me of how we are supposed to love others and not just ourselves.

  Emmalynn’s life and death were peaceful, and I do not regret in the slightest having taken care of her.

  Fast-forward to taking care of Charlie. Charlie, though he has grown in his beauty, was not the cutest baby I had ever seen. Thankfully, looks do not mean that much to me when it comes to loving people. Charlie was a baby whom I knew we could care for because my siblings expressed willingness to do so and because my mom’s nursing background gave us confidence that we could handle him. I’m so thankful we said yes as a family.

  Charlie is one of the sweetest little kids I’ve ever been blessed to know. He doesn’t communicate with his voice, but his eyes and his mannerisms speak volumes. I love watching movies with him; I love talking to him, holding his hand, kissing his adorable face, and including him in our daily activities. As you now know, Charlie was not expected to live to the age of two. This past spring I realized that he was going to be around for a while, and there was a sudden shift in my thinking. Instead of just living day to day, I started to make plans. Charlie’s birthday is on June 25, and I decided to help him have new adventures. So, for his birthday, I bought him a swimming suit and we went out into the kiddie pool, filling it with a few inches of water. Our home is undergoing some construction, and the yard is mostly sand and dirt. How perfect! My sister Mary Elisabeth and I fashioned our own little beach in the backyard for Charlie to enjoy. My sister and I even joked about how Charlie needs to live long enough to be a ring bearer of our weddings someday. I still hold loosely to those plans, but as long as he’s here with us, we’re going to make the most of it!

  A friend of mine recently showed me pictures of her nephew, who is also three. The pictures were adorable, but it also made my heart hurt a little bit when I remembered that Charlie is three and can’t run around like this other little boy. Charlie doesn’t complain, but I do wish he could be free from the constraints his body puts on him. However, just because he can’t do those things doesn’t mean he doesn’t have ways to be a little kid. My family and I often joke about how we love Charlie’s irritated face. Sometimes if he has been resting, we suddenly wake him up by saying his name or kissing his face. He will then wave his arms around to move us away. I tried to take a nap by him once, and the whole time he was moving his hand up and down my face. He knew he wasn’t alone in his bed, and I don’t think he wanted to share his space. Honestly, his irritated face is adorable and reminds us all of his great personality.

  Before we took in any more foster care kids, my mom would bring it up to us as a family, and it was up to us to say yes or no. The song “All of Me” by Matt Hammit rang very true in my case. I could have chosen to be halfhearted. I could have said no and made it difficult for my family to take care of another child, but thankfully, God had me wholeheartedly agree each time.

  Similar to my faith in Jesus Christ, I knew foster care had to be an all-or-nothing deal. Either
I was going to give everything or I was going to look back on my life someday and regret how I didn’t live or love fully.

  Taking care of foster kids with my family has taught me some things:

  1. Life isn’t about yourself.

  2. Babies, whether they are cute or scary looking, healthy or terminally ill, wanted or left to die, are valuable and need to be loved.

  3. Big families can be embarrassing at times, but you should probably get over it now. No one is perfect. You’re not perfect. Some will judge you, but others will be encouraging and gracious.

  4. Have fun.

  5. Work or hang out with people who have “different abilities.” It’s easier to be understanding and gracious to those who have disabilities if you spend more time with them.

  Andrew, age 17

  My brothers T-bear and Charlie are not just good-looking; they know how to impact the soul and make you think about your life!

  Emily, age 15

  One of nicest things about home is that when everyone is out of the house, I can play my music loud and clean up without anyone bugging me, and Charlie never seems to dislike it. One evening I was at home, the sun was starting to set, and everyone else was still at work or running errands. I cranked up our music machine, and Charlie was being adorable and wonderful as usual. I thought, Man, this is great. Charlie will be fabulous while I clean up the place. Funny enough, when I gave him a kiss on the cheek and went into the kitchen to clean, his pulse oximeter immediately started beeping. I left the kitchen to check on him, and as soon as I was near him, his sats were quiet and in perfect condition. I talked to Charlie about how I was going to clean the kitchen so he had to be a good boy. I gave him a kiss on the nose and went back to the kitchen again with my music still playing. About ten seconds later his pulse ox went off again. I waited for it to go back to normal, but it went off again and again, so I moved from the kitchen. But just like that, as soon as I reached him, his sats were normal.

  I was slightly puzzled as to why the machine kept going off. I said to Charlie, “Buster Brown, I need to clean up the place a bit before everyone comes home, okay?” Charlie didn’t respond with a yes, but he was fully awake, looking at me and swinging his hands. I thought he was good to go, and I made sure his sensor was working properly before I walked back into the kitchen. Twenty seconds later his pulse ox began to beep again and again and again. I was slightly annoyed, thinking I could have cleaned up the kitchen by now. I knew it was not coincidence that his pulse ox kept going off while I was away and was completely fine when I was by his side. I laughed, because I now believed that Charlie was setting it off on purpose. I had no idea how, but I acknowledged that he didn’t want to be alone and would become annoyed when I left him, and that is why his heart rate would be so high. Therefore, I stayed by Charlie yet tried to continue to be productive.

  I got to wondering how long it had been since his diaper had been changed and thought I’d better check it. I was met with a soaked bottom. I thought, Whatever, and started to take off his diaper. I was not prepared, as I looked away to move some items that were in the way, for Charlie to make a huge poop that, ladies and gentlemen, got everywhere! On the floor, on his bed, on his toys—yep, everywhere.

  Surprisingly, I wasn’t annoyed, just grossed out. So as a way to trick my gag reflex into going away and to make the situation a bit lighter, I started speaking sarcastically in a British accent. I moved Charlie from his bed to his beanbag chair so I could clean up the mess. Everything that smelled went in the laundry room. In the meantime Charlie fell soundly asleep and my family returned home. I was torn between crying tears of joy upon seeing them and bursting out laughing at their reaction to the pile of soiled clothing, laundry, and toys and Charlie’s wet mattress.

  Johanna, age 23

  Music is one of God’s greatest gifts to His children, a gift that I love. It moves us, changes us, makes us feel more intensely than we would without it. Music can also be linked to memories, so every time you hear a certain song, you are brought back to that moment in your life and your emotions at that time. When God blessed my family with Emmalynn, music was a way to make memories with her that would still be with me after she died. Songs like “You Wouldn’t Cry” by Mandisa and “I Will Carry You” by Selah reminded me that this world is not our home. That Emmalynn is a gift from God, and we are to love and cherish her while she is with us, miss her when she flies to heaven, and be excited for the day we will see her again. These songs now bring a peace to my heart that Emmalynn is more than fine. She is whole, beautiful, and loved, dancing and laughing before the Lord.

  When Emmalynn came into my life, she changed me and changed our whole family. When God healed my mom, my family was made stronger. When He brought Emmalynn into our lives, it was made even more beautiful.

  When I first met Charlie, I was scared and way outside my comfort zone, for I had decided years before that I was not cut out for a medical profession. I nearly fainted at a body museum. I don’t like watching medical dramas or looking at or reading about medical procedures. Even medical lingo makes me uncomfortable. Since my mother and sister are both nurses, I couldn’t avoid the topic completely, for they didn’t seem to find anything wrong or uncomfortable about explaining in great detail things I think should be kept hidden. We have skin for a reason!

  Nevertheless, I found myself agreeing to go with my mom to visit our Charlie for the first time. I was scared and knew it was going to be a challenge, but I was committed to step up and go through the training needed to bring him home. Charlie needed my family, and I knew God would give us the strength required for the task He called us to.

  When I first saw Charlie, I was afraid to touch him for fear I would hurt him somehow. It didn’t take long, though, for me to see the sweet little baby boy under all those wires and beeping machines. I fell completely in love with him. Even then it took weeks of holding him and months of training before I felt completely comfortable with him.

  My mom and I spent so much time at Children’s Hospital that the beautiful Ronald McDonald House really started feeling like our second home. The stunning Christmas decorations that year are a beautiful memory. Still thanking God for the incredible blessing that is Ronald McDonald House. I loved all the time with my mom and Charlie as we trained to bring him home.

  It was a big challenge and tested our faith and pushed us all out of our comfort zones as we learned how to best care for Charlie. It was hard. Sometimes so hard that I didn’t think we could do it. But God gave us strength to get through.

  My mom is my hero and my inspiration. Even with the fear she must have felt being responsible for this child, her faith was apparent. The fear we felt to be responsible for Charlie was a daily reminder and invitation to lean into the One who is our strength and refuge. God called us to this; there is no question about that. He always gives us the strength for what He has called us to do.

  My kids here at the orphanage in Thailand love Charlie, too, even though they’ve never met him.

  Mark, old enough

  Some people say that life is a journey or an adventure. I believe that. And there is a time and purpose for every season; and every experience and every person we interact with makes us who we are. So it certainly has been an adventure with Cori and our family. God has been good to us; yes, so very good.

  To men reading this, I want to say to you specifically, “Never give up—never!” To win the prize, to have abundant life, to have the very best that God has planned for you, and to really live freely, never give up. Stay true to that promise you made to your wife before God, your family, and friends on your wedding day.

  As Cori’s health was at the darkest point and as she was lying on our bed in pain and in the fetal position, slowly dying, I was trying to maintain the home, go to work, homeschool the kids, and keep a hopeful and positive attitude with our children. It seemed like all the world was pressing down on our lives. I wept before God on many nights in what seemed a hopeless situation
. Taking the high road with our children, I would often say to them, “Don’t look at the dirt on the windows, but look past it and see the beauty of the day,” while I myself was grieving inside.

  What seemed to be the darkest night of the soul later proved to be the preparation for our hearts to do what we are doing now with suffering, seemingly hopeless, and sometimes abandoned children. I specifically remember one night in bed when Cori was maxed out on pain meds and she asked me, “Why do you stay with me?” My response was, “Because I love you, and one day you will know what that really means.” That day has come.

  Cori did miraculously recover, and that diamond in the rough has become a brilliant shining jewel for the love of God. And what potentially could have destroyed our family made us stronger, more compassionate, loving, and kind. I believe in miracles. God is good, and I have no regrets.

  Our introduction into the foster care world was a little baby, a beautiful little angel, who got us out of hardened survival mode and taught us to love again. She lived fifty days and gave us more life than we ever could have given her. I am looking forward to the day in heaven when this beautiful little girl comes up behind me and says, “Daddy, it has been worth it all.” You see, there is no turning back now. God loves these little living souls through us, and though loving them involves some tears, we also experience a sense of hope, life, and well-being that cannot be expressed in words. I feel God now more than ever in my life. I value the simple things that last forever. Truly there is an abundant life, and it doesn’t consist in stuff.

  Life is an adventure, so choose the road you are on and never quit.

  NOTES