"A Child of Grace:
  a mother's life changed by a daughter's special needs"

20
Verland

So shall my word be that goes forth from my mouth;
It shall not return to me empty, but it shall accomplish
That which I purpose, and prosper
In the thing for which I sent it.
ISAIAH 55:11

  When Andrew Hanzel was admitted to Western Center, his mother, Theo applied for work there, too.  She was employed as a nurse's aide and started working with forty very difficult boys.

  Carol Mitchell was also employed at Western Center as an aide.  One of the difficult boys with whom Theo and Carol worked was David Tresch; he was a handsome blond youngster who was a self-abuser and beat himself unmercifully about the face and head.  Carol and Theo were both committed to helping David overcome this destructive behavior and eventually succeeded.   It was through David that Carol and Theo became close friends.  And it was through Theo that I got to know Carol.

  Carol later earned a bachelor's degree in psychology and went on for her masters in administration .  She eventually became the administrator of Allegheny Valley Junior School, a private facility for the profoundly retarded.  It was housed in an old building that was soon to be condemned, and the board decided not to build a new facility but to concentrate their efforts on the senior division of the school.

  Devastated by the prospect of closing this home for a hundred profoundly retarded people, Carol came to our house the night the board made its final decision. We talked far into the night and finally decided that, through faith and trust in God, we would form a new corporation, one that would build a new environment in which the residents would have as home-like an atmosphere as possible.

  We marveled at God's hand in all of this - Andrew and Verlinda brought Theo and me together, David brought Carol into Theo's life and subsequently into mine.  We tried a variety of ways to incorporate the names Verlinda, Andrew, and David and finally decided on Verland.
  Carol went home relieved, knowing that no matter what difficulties lay ahead, David and the other residents would not be abandoned.

  Soon Carol learned of some property on a hilltop near Sewickley owned by Helen Grove.   For many years Helen had been deeply concerned for the needs of young people and had been affiliated with Youth Guidance, Inc., in its efforts to match troubled children one-on-one with volunteers who could befriend them and introduce them to Jesus Christ.

  When Carol explained our needs for a new facility, Helen was immediately interested and said, "I have been praying about what to do with my property.  I believe this land belongs to God, and it would be a great joy to me to know that he wants me to use it in such a way.   I would like to give it to you in honor of my husband, Don." God's mysterious ways are wonderful ways!

  So it came about that thirteen acres of wooded land overlooking a pond were donated to Verland by this lovely Christian woman.  We knew that only the power of prayer and faith in God could have brought about such a miracle.

  In May, 1978, the Verland Foundation, Inc., was officially organized, and soon thereafter a temporary occupancy extension was granted to Verland to operate a seventy-bed interim-care facility in the old Allegheny Valley Junior School for the lowest functioning and most physically handicapped of the former one hundred residents.  The remaining thirty were placed in private facilities, group homes, and State Centers.

  A busy time for Carol and the new board began.  Many decisions had to be made.   We moved ahead with architectural plans for the new facility and the sale of tax-exempt revenue bonds to provide the funds for such an undertaking.  On the day before Thanksgiving in 1979 we had a ground-breaking ceremony in the woods overlooking the pond on Helen Grove's property.  Some rough times had preceded this day when it appeared that some people in the community would not accept such a facility in their midst.   It was difficult to convince them that the people we served were not mentally deranged, that they would not be roaming through the neighborhood frightening children or being destructive in other ways.

  Many of the residents were confined to wheelchairs, others were blind, and all needed total supervision.  They were not capable of running about on their own. Several town meetings were held and many prayers were said before approval was given.  But once again God was faithful, and one more step brought us closer to our goal.

  Verland's mission was to provide a life with dignity to the least capable retarded or developmentally disabled person in the most normal community setting possible.   Therefore ten homes were built, each constructed to house nine residents eventually.   The plans also included three other buildings, each one honoring one of the three special children who had brought Carol, Theo and me together.  They were the David W. Tresch Administration Building, the Andrew Hanzel Central Services Building, and the Verlinda M. Chalfant Activities Center.

  Verland opened its doors to the residents in January, 1981.  A cold and difficult winter followed as the staff struggled to adjust to living under separate roofs.   There is no question that an institutional setting housed in one building is easier to operate that decentralized homes.  Nurses and supervisors can go from ward to ward to make rounds without having to brave all kinds of weather.  The residents do not have to be dressed in outer clothing, mittens, and hats on a cold morning just to go to their activities in another building, and they do not have to be pushed in heavy wheelchairs through snow or rain to get to the gym, etc.  Frustration levels rose and sometimes exploded.

  But gradually, it became apparent that the residents were responding to the homey environment.   Their health improved as they were moved about in the fresh air.  Those who could walk improved physically, and some who previously had not walked began to take steps.   They responded to the increased stimulation of their environment and in some cases became less lethargic.

  I suppose a whole book could be written about Verland today and its residents.  There is a charm to the houses, the sturdy furniture, and the lovely grounds.  The activities center has classrooms, therapy rooms, a gymnasium, and a swimming pool with a ramp for the wheelchairs.  When Verland opened its doors, each of the ten houses was managed by a live-in married couple - some with families of their own - who served as house parents to the residents.  However, the staffing patterns have changed.   Now it is more difficult to find people to live there, so care of the residents is provided by three eight-hour shifts.

  The daily routine of the residents is normal.  Those attending school are dressed and readied by the house parents and other staff persons to go off to school in a special van or the school bus.  The ones who are over the age of twenty-one go to the activities center for a program especially designed for their needs.  They remain there until about three p.m., receiving their lunch there also.  Those who are able benefit from the cafeteria where they choose their own menu from the selection provided.  They are responsible for helping to clean up and put things away after their meal.  Some of these older residents are leaning to fold laundry and are encouraged to develop skills in other household activities.

  Early in the summer of 1982, our committee for ministry with the disabled at St. Stephen's Church initiated a service at the church for the residents of Verland and other facilities for the retarded.  Recently we changed the name from "The Verland Service" to "Joyful Noise Service"; and so it is - joyful as well as noisy!

  At ten o'clock on Thursday mornings the congregation arrives.  Those who can walk arrive in the orange school bus, and those in wheelchairs are brought in a van with a hydraulic lift.  Staffing is almost one-to-one.  The worship service lasts for about forty minutes.

  The first time we gathered for this service, it was chaotic, or so it seemed to me. There were many sounds, screams, and inappropriate laughter.  Some of the residents were unmanageable and had to be taken out.  Everyone was tense, wondering how it would go.   But I was touched so deeply that I started weeping and couldn't stop.  I knew that had Verlinda been alive, she would have been included; she would have been a part of this time of recognition of the right of every human being to be seen in a place of worship as a child of God - worthy of the dignity and respect given to the "normal" population.

  Since then all of us who are involved have become more comfortable with the worship service.   We have lost the initial fear that it would be too difficult to sing about the other uncontrollable sounds or that the staff might resent the effort of bringing the residents out in all kinds of weather.  We gradually lost our anxiety when a resident took a Bible or prayer book from the pew rack, afraid that he might rip it apart.

  I was thinking of that just recently when I watched Michael, a tall handsome young man sitting by himself in the pew.  He took a hymnal from the rack, flipped through the pages a few times and put it back.   At the first service he had been so unruly that he had to be taken out.   Now he walks in alone and has the inner control to sit by himself without someone monitoring his behavior.

  Kathy has learned to sing "Jesus Loves Me," and sometime Jimmy leads us in the Lord's Prayer.

  These people teach us to lay down our lives in ways we never dreamed we could, and we learn something of real servant hood as we give without expecting anything in return.

  Our rector John Guest said of the handicapped in a sermon he preached on Retardation Sunday, an annual event at St. Stephen's:

Rather than our dignity being destroyed by involvement with them, our dignity is enlarged.   The principle is this: what you give is what you get.   If you despise people, you will be despised.   Treat life cheaply, and life will be cheap to you.   If you extend the indignity of wiping our life because it's not the kind of life that should be allowed to live, you cheapen your own life.   Your life loses dignity.

What you do, is what you become.   If, when you suffer hardship, you embrace it, if you welcome adversity, you will become a person of character.   Hide yourself as best you can from it - which is nearly impossible - and you will be consumed by it.

None of us can escape pain, but how do we respond to it?   If the Spirit of God dwells in us, if we have been made new in Jesus Christ, then Scripture exhorts us to face that hardship so that we can become men and women of character and share with others the comfort with which we have been comforted during it.

"Every one to whom much is given, of him will much be required" (Luke 12:48).