By Thea Jarvis

This Sunday, with friends and family gathered around them, Dorothy Miller’s eight adopted children will be baptized into the faith of the Catholic Church. They are already a very important part of the community.

Each week they can be found at church with their mother – Shawnee, Tonya, Carrie Ann, Jody, Aaron, Phillip, Chris and Peter – piling out of their oversized white van and joining the ranks of parishioners at Holy Cross Church in Chamblee. They are warmly accepted by those with whom they share the pews at noon Mass and have experienced within this church community the friendship of those who sincerely care for them.

It is a measure of Dorothy Miller’s own faith that her family has come this far.

Each of the eight Miller children was lovingly chosen by a woman generous and strong enough to open her life to the needs of the severely handicapped. Each of the children, too difficult in the absence of their natural families to place in ordinary foster or adoptive care, has found a very special home with this expansive, smiling and very competent single parent.

In the rambling house they share in a quiet northeast subdivision, the Millers are much like any other family, with bicycles, a go-cart, riding toys and assorted paraphernalia scattered about the carport.

Looking closely, a passerby might notice a wide wooden ramp leading to the front door and two wheelchairs mingled with the bikes. One of the riding toys has been modified with a high back and extended body to accommodate a non-ambulatory passenger.

Inside, there is the happy feeling of open, sunny space. Wide doorways allow easy passage of braces and wheelchairs. Soft beanbag chairs promising comfort and acceptance hint at the informality the family strives for.

The house reflects Dorothy Miller’s own open disposition, her approach to her life and her children.

“I hope they’ll grow up and do as much as they’re able to do,” she says with undisguised feeling. “If I give them as much as I can today, their future will be brighter.”

Giving to the children, she knows, means a delicate balance between love and acceptance on one hand and an expectation of the very best each child can do on the other. This means careful scheduling with little deviation from business as usual.

“I’m extra consistent with them,” she explains. “I don’t mean I don’t have my moments, or that we don’t take exception to routine to do something special, but without routine and consistency, most of my children could not be handled at all.”

Because of the varying degree of their handicaps, the children who are not officially part of the Miller family could not find homes or institutions that suited them. They required extensive care, sensitive handling, patience and time, in addition to the love and encouragement that all children need to thrive and grow.

New Arrivals

Shawnee, now aged 12, came to Dorothy in 1974, “a pathetic child,” who at four years, weighed only 16 pounds. Shawnee has “an unusual type of severe cerebral palsy that causes her to have excessive, rapid movements,” Dorothy explained in the sunny kitchen of her home.

Although Shawnee is still confined to a wheelchair, today much of her movement is now controlled by medication and she is able to attend a school for the multiple handicapped. In addition, she has a marvelous sense of humor that those fortunate enough to know her well can easily enjoy.

The county wanted custody of Shawnee but could find no foster home because of her tremendous needs. When Dorothy offered to take her, she began her journey into the rewarding realm of parenting.

“I really didn’t think about it,” she says, looking back on the early seventies when her life began to change so drastically. “It just happened – they needed it.”

Tonya was next to arrive. Now 14, she is quiet and smiles easily. But this was not always so.

When she came to Dorothy’s home at the age of seven, she was “then so wild (the county) couldn’t find a home for her,” Dorothy remembers. Suffering brain damage as a result of abuse and neglect, Tonya at seven was the size of a three-year-old. Today, though she still retains disabilities in speech and language, she “is a taker-inner – won’t miss a trick,” her mother says, and is enrolled in the county’s program for trainable high school students.

In March of 1978, Tonya’s natural sister, Carrie Ann, joined the family. She had been in a foster home but was not thriving. At birth, Carrie Ann weighed in at six pounds; at 18 months, she had reached only nine pounds. She came to Dorothy when she was four.

Her problems were much the same as her sister’s – significant brain damage with motor, speech and language disabilities. She was also severely hyperactive. Though these difficulties are long-term, the sweetness of Carrie Ann’s personality now has the opportunity to flower in the security of her adopted family.

Not long ago, on the morning of her ninth birthday, Carrie Ann awoke and, before she had her eyes open, her mother related, was calling out “birthday girl, birthday girl” for all to hear. She cherished her own specialness and was inviting her family to share it with her.

Brothers

Carrie Ann’s natural brother, Jody, is only a year older than she. He joined his sisters in Dorothy’s home in 1978 when he was five and a half.

Like his sisters, abuse and neglect left Jody with brain damage and its resulting speech and language problems. In addition, he is extremely hyperactive. But Dorothy observes that though he requires extra firmness, Jody is a loving, affectionate child and now, at the age of 10, attends a regular grade school where he is in a developmental learning class.

One of the most outgoing of the Miller children is Aaron, now 13, who came into Dorothy’s care in 1979.

Because Aaron was born with spina bifida, he has numerous health problems that complicated his care in both foster homes and state institutions. When he finally arrived at Dorothy’s home, he weighed only 30 pounds. He was nine years old.

Today, Aaron is a bright, friendly young man who knows his limits and compensates accordingly. He can usually be spotted with his walker, basket attached, into which he can fit all manner of important items.

“He can’t run and play so he is very interested in people,” his mother notes, adding that she hopes he will someday enjoy a career in which he can work with people. For now, he has been effectively mainstreamed in the public school for 95% of his class time.

Another older brother is Phillip, who, at 15, attends special classes within the county high school system. He came to stay permanently with Dorothy in July of 1981 when he was 12.

Phillip was born with Moebius Syndrome, causing a paralysis of one side of his face similar to Bell’s Palsy. He is quietly friendly and is “good with his hands,” putting in time on this go-cart when it needs a fix-up, Dorothy says.

His brother Chris, 13, is a Down’s Syndrome youngster who became a member of the family two years ago. Before joining the other Millers, he attended an out-of-state school but was making poor progress. His severe hearing loss was an added disability, but Dorothy proudly characterized her son as “outgoing but calm, a really good group home candidate” when he grows older and is out on his own.

The most recent addition to the Miller clan is Peter, the natural brother of Tonya, Carrie Ann and Jody, who arrived in June of 1982. At 13, he functions well in spite of his learning disabilities and is presently mainstreamed in a regular elementary school.

A Family Together

Seeing the Miller family together is both a shock and a sheer delight. There is no question but that they stand out in a crowd, turning heads and drawing glances.

But their wholeness is evident in the natural way they care for and about each other, bolstering their identity as a solid family unit.

“The biggest thing I want my children to do is help each other,” Dorothy Miller says earnestly. “If we don’t support and help one another, then there is nothing left.”

One senses in this unusual woman a depth of feeling for her children that sees beyond their limitations, beyond their physical and mental handicaps, to the waiting hearts hidden for so long under overwhelming disabilities.

Dorothy has herself had to overcome disabilities that might have caused the best of us to pull the covers over our heads and wish the world farewell.

“I have had my share of knowing how it feels to have a problem,” she says without self-pity. “I’m 41 – now I’m going to get young.”

Though rheumatoid arthritis, dual cataracts and a substantial hearing loss have left their mark, Dorothy Miller’s spirit is youthful and vibrant.

She was the first to receive outpatient cataract surgery in Georgia, explaining with good-natured candor that “I had no choice; I had to go home and take care of my kids!”

In the face of such optimism, one is compelled to ask – how did this involvement with the handicapped begin? Where did it spring from? How can one person do so much?

Dorothy Miller began her life in Philadelphia where she grew up as the youngest of four children. Her father died when she was two years old and Dorothy recognizes that this loss encouraged each member of her family to pull his own weight.

“I was always very independent and self-sufficient – that’s my nature anyway,” she volunteered.

As a teenager, Dorothy recalls babysitting for many children with handicaps, including Down’s Syndrome and the then-undiagnosed autism.

Drawn To The Handicapped

“I think I was always drawn to handicapped children,” she says with the insight that has enabled her to work so effectively with disabled youngsters for so many years.

After coming to Atlanta to teach at Christ the King School in 1962, Dorothy went on to Immaculate Heart of Mary School in 1965. There she came in contact with a family who had a Down’s Syndrome child. His name was Andy.

The boy had no formal teaching and was unable to communicate with others. “Back then we didn’t have school systems giving them the training,” she remembers. He needed religious instruction and Dorothy volunteered, setting aside Saturdays for his First Communion preparation.

“I remember seeing Andy in back of his mother’s care,” Dorothy said. “He reached his hand out to me. It was like a mutual attraction.”

Eventually, another child was added, a girl named Mary Beth who had been diagnosed with Turner’s Syndrome. The two children were total opposites, Andy the quiet, manageable one, Mary Beth extremely hyperactive.

“Mary Beth and Andy were the basis for my philosophy that children with different types of handicaps and abilities can be cared for together,” Dorothy observed.

Ironically, Mary Beth’s initial diagnosis proved inaccurate, for she was later mainstreamed in a regular classroom setting. Andy is now grown and lives in an adult home out of state where he works on a farm.

The number of handicapped children whose families sought religious instruction grew as word spread that it was available. Academic instruction was added to the religious training, since so little was then available.

In 1966, Dorothy Miller and a group of volunteers held a summer Bible school for handicapped children at IHM. “It was a glorious time. We were so innocent and so naïve: we did things people said couldn’t and shouldn’t be done,” she recalled. The program was successful and continued for three summers.

When Immaculate Heart of Mary added a wing to the parish school in 1969, they offered Dorothy space for the education of handicapped students. One large room was set aside and divided in two, accommodating 35 children in double sessions.

The special program was formally begun as a private non-profit corporation, named after one of the students who had died in a tragic accident. It was called the Elaine Clark Center and Dorothy Miller was its founder and first director.

As the school grew and enrollment increased, the center moved to various locations throughout the metro Atlanta area, including the Georgia Retardation Center, Morningside Presbyterian Church, the Laura Haygood School, and finally a site on Peachtree Industrial Boulevard.

Dorothy saw the children settled in the new building and remained with the center until 1977. She had been acquiring her own children throughout the time she directed the program.

A New Beginning

This Sunday will mark a beginning of sorts for these children and their mother. It was not until January of 1983 that all eight of the children were officially adopted. Some of the proceedings were long, drawn out and difficult. It is only now that Dorothy can breathe a sign of relief that that struggle, at least, is behind her.

At the Mass, the children will be baptized and all but two will receive First Eucharist. The family will carry up the offertory gifts and Dorothy and her sister from Philadelphia will read the Scriptures.

Afterwards, the Millers will resume the life they have charted for themselves, in a home where each is accepted as he is because he is.

“We’re just as much a family as anybody else,” Dorothy Miller asserts with pride. “I want my children to grow up to be loving people with a purpose in life – to do what they were meant to do. I want them to be happy.”