Three weeks is much too long for a three-year-old boy to be confined to a hospital bed. Every time the door opened, he’d wail, fearing what might happen next.
Our yearly trip back home to celebrate Christmas and spend time with family quickly turned deadly. After listening to my son’s chest, a triage nurse loaded us into an ambulance bound for Scottish Rite Hospital in Atlanta. My son’s pediatrician had assured me the rash was nothing more than our laundry soap, but all along, a deadly virus festered. Fluid filled his lungs, causing his left lung to collapse. He needed emergency surgery.
Pictures of the Grinch stealing the Whos’ Christmas decorated every wall and window of the children’s hospital. I couldn’t help but agree that he’d stolen ours too. We pulled our son down the hall in a wagon because he was too frail to walk.
Then a memory rushed back, a Christmas tree perched on top of a high building—this building!
“Look, Mama.” He pointed. “Up there.”
“That’s the children’s hospital.”
“You mean children stay there even at—” His eyes widened. “Christmas?”
I nodded.
“Let’s pray for them, okay, Mama?”
While we drove down I-285 all those days ago, we unknowingly prayed for ourselves.
Additionally, a new pediatrician did the nightly rounds, and we worried this would worsen the situation.
“God, will you send someone to comfort my son?”
A familiar voice and a very familiar face greeted us when the door opened. I’ve always heard everyone has a twin somewhere in the world, and this doctor’s twin lived back home in Arkansas and attended our church. Our son called her “Mrs. Stephanie” and cheerfully took whatever medicine she prescribed. When we returned home three weeks later, I hugged the real Stephanie and thanked her. God used her to help a sickly little boy recover from the brink of death, and she’d never even left the state.
God sees and guides our steps, even when those steps lead us into a children’s hospital. On our darkest nights, His light shines brighter than the Christmas tree, illuminating the city below.
Think of someone you can pray for this Christmas season.
Amanda Elaine West is married to her high school sweetheart and has four children, plus three spoiled cats. She’s been in Christian service for over two decades, is a multi-published freelance writer, and serves as president of Word Weavers South Middle Tennessee.