Jesus Christ, the same yesterday, today and forever. Hebrews 13:8
Miracles are Possible
Three quiet words, hardly understandable, spoken into my ear through a phone on summer day.
“I miss you.”
Spoken by a boy, a boy who loves tractors, cars, trucks, dirt, dogs, his family, his friends, church, and most of all - Jesus.
Spoken by a boy with the most adorable smile, a boy who said things that made me laugh, a boy who frustrated me sometimes.
These words were spoken by a boy who I couldn’t imagine life without.
And now, I knew I didn’t have to.
My hand grips the phone a little tighter. Tears seep out of my eyes, squeezed shut, and spike my eyelashes. My eyes open and I look up, sending a prayer to God.
A God who I now know is all-powerful; a God who I know can perform miracles, even today, who I whole-heartedly believe in, who I don’t always understand what he does, but I trust. Thanking a God who I was brought closer to in 2 ½ weeks.
The emotions that I had been cycling through these last couple of weeks have worn me down, both physically and mentally. These three words were like a drop of water on a thirsty tongue; relief.
My six year old brother Tyler had fallen from a tree onto pavement. His skull was cracked, his brain was swelling, and I didn’t think he was even going to live. Through ways that I will never understand, the doctors and nurses at Greenville Memorial Children’s Hospital Pediatric Intensive Care Unit (PICU) were able to use their God-given knowledge and technology to stabilize him enough so that we knew he was going to live.
Now, there was the question of brain damage. Would we ever be able to watch Tyler run around the front yard, playing football with his brothers? Would we be able to hear him read his Bible out loud again, sounding out the words slowly? Would he ever even walk, or talk, or grow, or learn, or live his life the way we had always pictured?
Going to the hospital the first time to see Tyler, I stepped off of the elevator and saw my dad standing across the room. Without realizing it, I ran across the room and fell into his arms. My heart broke as I felt my father crying, our bodies shaking together, trying to both give and take strength from each other.
The hallway to Tyler’s room seemed miles long, and I don’t think anything could have prepared me for what I was about to see. Seeing my little brother lying more still than I had ever seen him, attached to so many tubes and wires and machines, a bolt screwed into his skull to measure swelling of his brain, a little stuffed dog laying on a small space of his stomach that wasn’t occupied by wires, made me choke up.
I wanted to tell him so many things. I wanted to let him know how much he meant to me, how I missed him so much, and that he needed to hang in there because he had so much to look forward to into his life. The only thing I could do was stroke his hand and whisper “I love you, buddy,” my voice cracking and tears flooding my eyes.
The emotions and feelings that I felt those weeks are something I can’t even explain. I learned so much from this experience, things that I could never have learned without it. I think I grew up a lot too, having to take the role of mom and dad to seven of my other siblings while my parents stayed in the hospital with Tyler.
The most valuable thing I learned was that miracles are possible. Not only has Tyler survived his accident, he came out with no brain damage whatsoever, something that most of us didn’t even think possible.
Hearing him speak to me for the first time in two weeks, I realized that Matthew 19:26 holds so much truth.
With God, all things are possible.
Have an amazing and blessed weekend.