Due to the medical fragility of my youngest daughter, Carly Joy, ER visits were a re-occurring, though rare, reality. The established pattern included a visit to her general physician’s office. While there, the news would be leveled that I needed to take her to Nemours Children’s Hospital for further treatment. This forecast would sink in like a wooden bucket being lowered into an empty well. My emotions would go numb and a hollow hole would settle in the pit of my stomach. Texts and phone calls, accentuated by my tears, would alter my preconceived plans toward the unwelcome destination of the day, the emergency room. There was usually a short stop home to gather a few essentials and find the correct coverage for my other two daughters, Kathryn and Janae. I would pray while traveling, “God, I need another miracle.”
Carly, due to her heart conditions, was given preference as high priority. Waits in the waiting room were thankfully quite minimal. We were greeted in the triage room by the intake nurse. Pertinent information was recorded. There could be a small panic due to Carly’s O2 levels being in the 80s. I would nonchalantly reassure the nurse that for Carly this was her baseline. Of all the things that brought us to seek help, this was not, in and of itself, a cause for alarm.
After our assignment to a room, the placement of the IV was consistently a challenge. Carly was quite small for her age and had small veins. Usually, the nurse with the most capable skills would be sent to our room, if only for this single task. Even so, getting the needle into her arm usually took multiple attempts, followed by securing the site with a soft splint. During this procedure I would help steady her arm and look away, singing softly to comfort and to distract both of us.
This particular night was intriguing and atypical. The staff were not their usual attentive selves. Our wait times for care were unusually labored. My heart was at peace that Carly was in no danger. I felt that the most prevalent of previous outcomes would prevail. In a few hours we would be sent home weary, yet relieved.
But still we lingered and I started to observe the staff when they came into our quiet, dim room. There was something burdening their minds even as they attended to Carly. The CNA quietly apologized, “There is another child in serious condition. The doctors are trying to save the life.”
I began to pray for this child and the doctors who were laboring diligently. More time elapsed and the echoes of footsteps and quiet grief began to line the halls. The presence of so many family members was not an indication that all was well. I knew that the child had already breathed their last breath and taken their place in the arms of the Almighty.
My heart broke for this family. They had come to the hospital in hopes that their child would be helped. How desperate? How sad? How empty and shaken was this family? And for how long? Their child was gone. No more hopes. No more dreams. No future.
About that time, I began to feel something else lining the halls. I began to sense the presence of the supernatural. It was not merely humans that lined the halls but angels. For every human, I imagined two or three angels! Magnificent, Mighty, Powerful, Beautiful! How many had been dispatched? This family’s trauma released an equal, though unseen response. They were not alone while their hearts shattered and the light of their child’s earthly life dimmed. Heaven itself answered on their behalf.
As morning stirred the next day, I woke grateful that Carly was home and our family reunited. I contemplated the angels and the new home the child entered. What a reception for God’s child stirred just down the hallway from us. For all their sadness, I could not shake the nearness of the supernatural.
For all our days on this earth the reality is, this is not the end. This is only the beginning. Heaven is eternal and full of God’s glory. I hope and pray that in these trying times, God would reveal more and more of Himself and Heaven through His Spirit in deeply intimate ways.
“For now we see in a mirror, dimly, but then face to face. Now I know in part, but then I shall know just as I also am known.” 1 Corinthians 13:12 NKJV
“Eye has not seen , nor ear heard, nor have entered into the heart of man the things which God has prepared for those who love Him. But God has revealed them to us through His Spirit” 1 Corinthians 2:9-10 NKJV
Broken but Beautiful 
AMEN
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