Willing to be formed

A mother’s testimony of God’s call and her children’s lives.

In 1988, Maryanne and Roland Balzer, with their two children, Angela, 12, and Eric, 10, came to Highland Community Church, Abbotsford, as pastor couple. Eric had been diagnosed with autism at five, and at 15, was diagnosed with amyotrophic lateral sclerosis (ALS), also known as Lou Gehrig’s disease.

In their 17 years at Highland, the Balzers have embodied a love for their family that has been both a gift and a model for all of us. Surrounded by this steady love, many of us have stopped to look, and look again. We have wanted to inquire how a commitment to such compassionate care is possible.

In August 2004, Maryanne and I presented the Sunday morning sermon together, based on Jeremiah 1:1–12, which describes Jeremiah’s call from God. Here is some of what she said about what it has meant for her to respond to God’s call.

—Daphne Kamphuis

The Balzer family: (l–r) Paul Neufeld, Angela, Eric, Roland, Maryanne

There are times in my life that God has called me to a specific and larger call. There are also many smaller and daily kinds of calls, but I would like to describe two “larger” calls, related to each of our children’s lives.

The first came when Angela was born. In those first months and years of Angela’s life – for she was born with more than half of her body covered in birthmarks – I think God appointed me to show Angela God’s deep love for her, to nurture her joyful and energetic spirit, to appreciate her uniqueness the way God did.

The specific call around mothering Eric came more gradually as the challenges of his life unfolded over the years. I think God called me to walk alongside Eric and love him, however long his journey on this earth will be.

Learning

Since learning from Eric is part of that call, I’d like to share a few of the things he has taught me.

1. To slow down, be silent, listen to more than words. Even when Eric had finally learned to talk, it was most helpful for him if we could give him long but expectant spaces of silence, and maybe he would be able to respond. Now that speech is gone, there is much practice in sitting together in silence. This has helped me in the process of listening to God, to myself and to others.

2. That a person’s value comes from their “being,” not their “doing.” Eric is a significant part of our family and church community, and it is not because of what he has accomplished. It is because he is.

   Judith Snow is a writer and speaker whose body doesn’t work very well; in fact, she can only move one thumb. She says there are two gifts we all have: the gift of presence (simply being there creates an opportunity for interaction and love) and the gift of difference (this creates meaning – if everyone were the same, she says, there would be no excitement, mystery, wonder.)

3. The value of community. I would have liked to be able to care for Eric “on our own.” But we couldn’t. God’s design for the church is that we are a caring community and living with Eric has pushed me to be willing to receive that loving support.

   The call has been about caring for Eric and about being willing to be formed, or transformed, by paying attention to what Eric and my life with him is teaching me.

“Buts”

Have I struggled with God about my call? Yes. When Angela was young I struggled with worrying about the future. I could imagine a lot of hardship ahead. Don’t you know, God, I’d say, it’s a cruel world out there? How will she manage?

God met me through the gift of our small caring church community in Fort McMurray, Alta., where we lived then, and through the gift of Angela herself. She was so full of joyful energy and as soon as she could speak, even before she had mastered all the sounds, she answered people’s looks and questions with, “Those are birthmarks,” and often added, “God made me that way.” She taught us honesty and openness.

When I lived in the moment I could see that she felt loved and I was able to live freely out of that, but somewhere in the back of my mind I would wonder about the next phase: about school, high school, a life mate for her. For quite awhile, there was this secret worry, until I could really trust that I did not have to be afraid. God was at work in her to give her a beautiful sense of strength and confidence.

Like Jeremiah, I have responded over the years with “buts.” A big one was, “but this is too hard!” And, I have argued with God about Eric’s suffering. It has been hard to watch. His kindergarten experience, for example, was stressful for him. He often expressed a high-pitched babble. When asked why he did that, one answer was, “I want to have something to say in circle time.” That was one of his clearer moments of being able to let us in on his frustration in not being able to communicate.

In the mid-90s he was losing his mobility and often said, “I want to walk.” But he no longer could. In 2003 he spent much of the year “calling out” with a sound that is not usual for him and sounded to us like he was in some kind of agony. These are glimpses of his suffering that for the most part are hidden. One of the mysteries I live with is why Eric has to suffer. And the answer I often hear from God is, “I am with you.” Can I let that be enough?

From then on

In his book, Callings, Greg Levoy suggests that sometimes there is an event “that gives you your life’s work and determines what it is you have to say from that time on.” I feel like my life with Eric is that kind of “event.” In naming some of the many things Eric has taught me, I see that there are many opportunities available to me.

Jeremiah’s call was really a life calling, but on the way he needed to keep listening for the details and the different ways God would use him within that big call. I want to do the same.

Two months after this sermon interview, on Oct. 21, 2004, Eric died. Maryanne and Roland, as well as Angela and her husband Paul, with their son Simon, were present with Eric during the last hours of his life. (See his obituary in this issue.)