"For I know the plans I have for you," says the
Lord. "They are plans for good and not for
disaster, to give you a future and a hope."
Jeremiah 29:11 NLT
In my previous journal entry, I wrote about the circumstances surrounding my birth and the misinformation that exists even some seventy years later...
Lord. "They are plans for good and not for
disaster, to give you a future and a hope."
Jeremiah 29:11 NLT
In my previous journal entry, I wrote about the circumstances surrounding my birth and the misinformation that exists even some seventy years later...
I wrote about my being born out of wedlock. How my birth mother was pressured by my birth father into giving me away. All this happened before I was born.
Of course, I would not learn of this until more than twenty years later when, after a diligent search, I located the woman who brought me into the world. I was thrilled to finally be able to call her "Mom." Meeting my birth mother for the first time, and finding out I had a half-sister, a brother-in-law, and two sweet nieces too, was the highlight of my life.
However, at the time of my birth everything had already been prearranged. The couple who were to adopt me, Nathan and Pearl Berkowitz, were to pick me up from the hospital and then take me to their home in the Bronx. From here I would become their child, and their pride and joy. They would raise and nurture me, and hope for the best.
My adoptive father, whom everyone called Nat, was a World War II veteran who served in the South Pacific and was stationed for a time on an island known as Guam. My adoptive mother, Pearl, was a homemaker who was deeply devoted to her husband but was unable to become pregnant.
My adoptive parents married in the early 1940s when my dad was on leave back in the States. Then, when the war ended, my father opened a neighborhood hardware store on Gun Hill Road in the Bronx. He managed it until my mother Pearl passed away from cancer at the age of 52. This was in 1967.
After his wife's death, however, my dad and I moved from the Soundview section of the Bronx into a new housing development called Co-op City. For the two of us, it was something of a fresh start. Soundview had become riddled with crime. Drug addicts routinely congregated on the roof of our building, which was on Stratford Avenue. Our apartment was broken into and ransacked, as well. So, it was time to go.
Co-op City was a nice change. I met new friends. But when someone has emotional problems, sometimes more than a change of environment is needed. But I did okay. I graduated from high school in June of 1971, and went right into the Army, where I served three years until I was honorably discharged. I then returned to the Bronx to resume civilian life, with no idea at the time of the dark fate which awaited me.
Looking back from the time of my birth, my adoptive parents were good people. They showered me
with love and affection. My dad provided for our family of three, and he could never do enough for me. The same for my mom. I was blessed to have them in my life. But I had too many emotional and behavioral problems. It was a struggle for my parents as they tried their best to deal with me.
While, from the vantage point of today, I was fortunate to have been adopted. My birth mother Betty no doubt loved me even while I was developing inside her womb. She had good hopes and dreams for me, for sure. But my unwilling and indifferent birth father didn't want me. He made that very clear to Betty, who was left heartbroken.
Nevertheless, I received the best of two possible outcomes. Had my birth mother prevailed in keeping me, she never would have been able to properly care for me. She had few resources available. Just raising her daughter alone was hard enough, since my sister's father Tony abandoned his wife and child years before.
And Joe, my birth mother's current boyfriend, had rejected me outright.
How I survived all I've been through is a question I often asked myself. But one day it was as if an inner light when off inside my soul, and then I understood. It was God himself who was slowly knitting me together cell by cell while I was yet inside my mother's belly. He had a plan for me. My birth was not an "accident." I was not unwanted. God wanted me, and I am thankful he did.
Even before the world began, my heavenly Father looked down the corridors of time and saw me. God saw little David growing in his mother's womb, and He said, "That's my beloved child. David is mine."
D.B.
Of course, I would not learn of this until more than twenty years later when, after a diligent search, I located the woman who brought me into the world. I was thrilled to finally be able to call her "Mom." Meeting my birth mother for the first time, and finding out I had a half-sister, a brother-in-law, and two sweet nieces too, was the highlight of my life.
However, at the time of my birth everything had already been prearranged. The couple who were to adopt me, Nathan and Pearl Berkowitz, were to pick me up from the hospital and then take me to their home in the Bronx. From here I would become their child, and their pride and joy. They would raise and nurture me, and hope for the best.
My adoptive father, whom everyone called Nat, was a World War II veteran who served in the South Pacific and was stationed for a time on an island known as Guam. My adoptive mother, Pearl, was a homemaker who was deeply devoted to her husband but was unable to become pregnant.
My adoptive parents married in the early 1940s when my dad was on leave back in the States. Then, when the war ended, my father opened a neighborhood hardware store on Gun Hill Road in the Bronx. He managed it until my mother Pearl passed away from cancer at the age of 52. This was in 1967.
After his wife's death, however, my dad and I moved from the Soundview section of the Bronx into a new housing development called Co-op City. For the two of us, it was something of a fresh start. Soundview had become riddled with crime. Drug addicts routinely congregated on the roof of our building, which was on Stratford Avenue. Our apartment was broken into and ransacked, as well. So, it was time to go.
Co-op City was a nice change. I met new friends. But when someone has emotional problems, sometimes more than a change of environment is needed. But I did okay. I graduated from high school in June of 1971, and went right into the Army, where I served three years until I was honorably discharged. I then returned to the Bronx to resume civilian life, with no idea at the time of the dark fate which awaited me.
Looking back from the time of my birth, my adoptive parents were good people. They showered me
with love and affection. My dad provided for our family of three, and he could never do enough for me. The same for my mom. I was blessed to have them in my life. But I had too many emotional and behavioral problems. It was a struggle for my parents as they tried their best to deal with me.
While, from the vantage point of today, I was fortunate to have been adopted. My birth mother Betty no doubt loved me even while I was developing inside her womb. She had good hopes and dreams for me, for sure. But my unwilling and indifferent birth father didn't want me. He made that very clear to Betty, who was left heartbroken.
Nevertheless, I received the best of two possible outcomes. Had my birth mother prevailed in keeping me, she never would have been able to properly care for me. She had few resources available. Just raising her daughter alone was hard enough, since my sister's father Tony abandoned his wife and child years before.
And Joe, my birth mother's current boyfriend, had rejected me outright.
How I survived all I've been through is a question I often asked myself. But one day it was as if an inner light when off inside my soul, and then I understood. It was God himself who was slowly knitting me together cell by cell while I was yet inside my mother's belly. He had a plan for me. My birth was not an "accident." I was not unwanted. God wanted me, and I am thankful he did.
Even before the world began, my heavenly Father looked down the corridors of time and saw me. God saw little David growing in his mother's womb, and He said, "That's my beloved child. David is mine."
D.B.
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