My parents planned on having a family of five children. Carol had just one sister and felt she would like a bit larger family of her own. There had been eleven children born to Jerry’s parents. That seemed like a few too many now that they no longer lived on a farm. Jerry knew that it was important to have brothers and sisters to share the joys and struggles of growing up and to help with the work. As adults, siblings offer the kind of friendship only available to those who share so much of the past. Yes, five children seemed like a good idea. So they got started building their family.
January 20, 1950 was a clear, crisp day in Corvallis. Carol was near term in her first pregnancy.
“Let’s take a bus down town and see a show tonight. It’ll do you good to take your mind off your ‘condition’ for a while,” Jerry suggested that evening.
“That does sound good. I just haven’t been feeling right the last few days.” Carol had just turned twenty-one. She lived away from her mother and mother-in-law and didn’t know what to expect as her time to deliver her baby came near.
When the movie was over, they came outside to catch the bus home. Much to their surprise, it had snowed several inches while they watched the movie. The buses were not able to run with the streets covered with snow.
“What are we going to do?”
“I guess we’ll just have to walk home.”
It was several miles from the center of town to the south side of the Oregon State College campus where the married students’ housing was. I walked it several times as a college student, myself. It was a challenge for me during the day with healthy, young legs. I don’t know how Carol managed at night, nine months pregnant and with new fallen snow on the ground.
The next day was cold. In fact, record cold temperatures still stand from several of the January days in 1950. Carol didn’t feel very well. “I don’t know if I’m just tired from the walk last night or what.”
“I’ll go get a neighbor to come check on you.”
“I think you better take Carol to the hospital, Jerry,” advised the neighbor. “She’s in labor!”
“What? She still has two weeks to go!”
He did take Carol to the hospital, and their first child, Elizabeth Carol Crow (that’s me!!!) was born that afternoon. Jerry and Carol hadn’t been able to decide on a name for their child before she came. They finally agreed on Elizabeth if Jerry could call her Bethie.
Jerry had been waiting to become a daddy. He took his turn being up with Bethie during the night so Carol could rest and recover. The first few weeks were difficult. Their little apartment did not keep out the cold. An electric heater had to be placed under Bethie’s bassinet to keep her warm while she slept. Sometimes they would just have to hold her to keep her warm. Meanwhile, Carol’s pillow froze to the window above the bed during the record-breaking cold spell.
Jerry continued his college classes and odd jobs to support his growing family. Whenever he could, he held and played with Bethie. A friend with all boys had told him how fortunate he was to have a girl. “You can always have boys,” the friend said, “but you’re so lucky to have your first one be a girl!” Jerry indeed felt blessed.
When the end of Carol’s second pregnancy neared, they felt a bit more prepared for the baby’s arrival. Jerry had gotten a job in Seattle, Washington as an engineer with Boeing Aircraft Company. The family lived in a small, white, rented house.
Randall and Leola Fischer, Carol’s parents, came to Seattle to help celebrate Bethie’s second birthday. They were also looking forward to the arrival of their second grandchild. With Carol already in labor that afternoon, they wondered if Bethie would have a baby brother or sister for a birthday present.
Carol went to the hospital that evening, but Gerald Wallace Crow Jr. wasn’t born until early in the morning on January 22, 1952.
It meant so much for Jerry to have a son. Already he was looking forward to playing ball with Jerry Jr., or Jerry Boy as the family called him for years. Jerry loved babies, but it would be great to have a son to wrestle with and to be a companion.
By the winter of 1954, Jerry and Carol had moved into their own home. Jerry helped his boss build the three-bedroom home on Queen Street in Milwaukie, Oregon. Jerry had gotten a job as chief engineer of a new machinery company near Portland. Jerry Boy was nearly three and Bethie nearly five. They were all eagerly anticipating the arrival of the Crow’s third child.
Grandma and Grandpa Fischer came again to help with the new baby. They arrived in time to celebrate Christmas, as Carol was very near her due date. Everyone was delighted to welcome Douglas Wesley Crow on Carol’s birthday, December 28, 1954. He was the Fischer’s third grandchild and the eleventh for Jerry’s parents.
Carol had finally received a satisfactory present for her 26th birthday that year. She had always complained of being neglected with her birthday falling just three days after Christmas. As a girl, she hadn’t had many birthday parties with all of her friends on vacation from school. Even her family struggled to make her day special after putting so much effort into Christmas. Dougie had indeed been a gift worth waiting for. Their joy at his arrival turned out to be short-lived, however.
It was hard for me to comprehend what happened that December. I was too young to understand eternal matters of life and death. All I knew was I really wanted a new baby brother to “mother.” Jerry Boy and I hadn’t understood why our mom had to come home from the hospital with empty arms.
Eight years later the stone-cold footsteps on the mausoleum floor pierced my heart with grief. Mom and Dad showed us the little cubicle where the remains of the brother I never got to see rested. Mom had just had another in the series of miscarriages which ended any hope of having the five children they desired.
Mom and Dad told us the story again:
On his second day of life, Dougie had gotten sick. They called Jerry to come to the hospital from work. By the time he arrived, Douglas’ malformed heart and circulatory system had failed him and he was gone.
Carol still had several more days in her expected week-long hospital recovery period. She asked to be transferred out of the maternity section to the surgery ward. It was just too painful to watch all the other new mothers with their babies and happy families.
Jerry grieved hard, too. With Carol still in the hospital, all the sad details fell to him. With heavy heart, he and Bethie drove out to Newberg to tell Wesley and Pearl Crow that Dougie had died. Jerry then made arrangements for the body to be cared for and buried. Carol’s parents and sister, Jerry’s parents and Carol’s Uncle Perry attended the private funeral at Riverview Abby with Jerry.
That day eight years later, Mom, Dad, Jerry Jr. and I came together at the grave site. We found a vase for the flowers we had brought and together mourned the death of Douglas Wesley Crow.
Unless you’ve lost a child yourself, it’s hard to imagine the depth of pain involved. I well remember my Grandma Crow still mourning the loss of her daughter sixty years after the little four year old died. Grandma had cut off her dark curls to try to ease her fever before Dorothy died. All those years later, she brought the curls out to show me and grieve together.
Why am I telling you this story of my dad losing one of his children and losing the dream of having others? It’s because I want to give you a glimpse of the heart of God who we call our Heavenly Father.
God had one “begotten” Son. “For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son…” John 3.16. That Son was Jesus, whose birth we celebrate on Christmas Day. Do you remember what happened to God’s Son?
He was raised by a nice family who loved and wanted Him very much. They taught Him the carpenter’s trade and taught Him the Scriptures.
As an adult, He had a three year ministry and then He was put to death, though He had committed no crime. It wasn’t just a swift, painless death. It followed a night of terrible, agonizing prayer in the Garden of Gethsemane, hours of torture and humiliation, the desertion of his friends, and then the horrible ordeal of crucifixion as he bore the sins of the world.
Do you think that was easy for God the Father to watch?
Peter W. Law says in his book A Portrait of My Father, “But our heavenly Father intentionally endured the agony of love. Not only would He watch as His only Son suffered the agony of His earthly ministry, He agonized in giving His Son to die—in your place and mine. The Father agonized as He watched the Lord Jesus become the ‘man of sorrows and acquainted with grief’ (Isaiah 54:3, NASB). The Father’s agony involved the Son. By looking at the pain endured by the Son, we come to appreciated something of the agony of loved suffered by the Father as He looked on.” (pg 80)
Knowing how my dad grieved the loss of his son, why would God be willing to let such a thing happen to His Son if He could stop it?
My father is an imperfect man. He felt great pain at the death of his child. God is perfect. It cost Him His only Son to pay the penalty for the sins of the world. He was willing to go through the agony and Jesus was willing to bear the pain with the hopes that others would accept the sacrifice and become adopted into God’s family.
My dad never had his hopes fulfilled of having all of the children he wanted. It has been one of the disappointments of his life, but he has adjusted and gone on. God put the death of Jesus on the line in the hopes of adding to His family. He counted the cost of Jesus’ death and decided the potential to add the children He longs to add to His family was worth it.
Jesus prayed for us in John 17:22-24 just before He died. “I have given them the glory you gave me, so they may be one as we are one. I am in them and you are in me. May they experience such perfect unity that the world will know that you sent me and that you love them as much as you love me. Father, I want these whom you have given me to be with me where I am. Then they can see all the glory you gave me because you loved me even before the world began!” (NLT) The Father loves His other adopted children as much as He loves His begotten Son. Jesus was willing to die so we could have a relationship with Him and His Father.
God the Father knows how special each of His children are because He knew us when He created us. (Jeremiah 1:5) He wants everyone He ever created to become part of His family. (2 Peter 3:9) We can each know that we are a highly wanted member of His family. God only has children He chose, sacrificed greatly for, and in whom He takes great delight. That’s us. We can rest secure in our Father’s love because He deeply desires a relationship with each of His children.
