There's a miracle waiting
Continue to deny yourself, carry your cross, and endure the trials to come.
Weeks one and two at UAB were gruelingly painful.
As a little girl, I went through many heartbreaks and endured challenges that shaped who I am today. My brothers, especially during the early years before my sister came along, were my constant source of strength and joy, always keeping me going . I vividly remember those magical afternoons of Ricky playing “airplane” with me right on the carpet of our living room; those moments made me feel like the queen of the world in their presence. My brothers would spend hours tickling me until I would cry with laughter, and each Halloween, they took on the important responsibility of “checking” my candy to ensure it wasn’t poisoned—such protective instincts filled me with love and security. However, as the years passed by, we faced the tragic loss of Jason soon after DeLisa arrived. I must admit that I was hesitant at first, but we ultimately decided to welcome her with open arms. I found myself stepping into the role of the “fixer” of our family. As Ricky would call me when he was mad at me because I’d say what I thought, I was the “family manager.”
Following Ricky’s second stroke, we were told over and over and over again that Ricky would never, ever come out of the deep coma he was trapped in, he’d never feel his legs again, not even a tiny twinge, and he’d never swallow again, robbing him of such a fundamental part of life. We prayed fervently. We begged our friends and family to lift their voices in prayer for him as well. We just needed a miraculous turn of events. The blood clot that had formed in his heart was deemed too large and insurmountable, and they told us his heart simply wouldn’t make it against such odds. The medical team pursued me daily, urging me to remove all support services and to transition him to palliative care, where they would administer morphine and eventually stop his heart altogether. I prayed even harder than before. I pleaded with God for a clear answer, but the response was always the same, “Wait.”
As the family manager in this challenging situation, I must confess that I’m not particularly adept at the art of waiting. Even though Ricky is the one labeled as the “addict,” I recognize that I carry the same addictive personality within me. The compulsion for results to manifest immediately, what I would boldly term instant gratification, grips me tightly. I feel this relentless need to be in control and a deep desire to fix everything without delay.
Countless discussions unfolded among our mom, us, the little sisters, and Ricky’s daughter, Brittany, as we grappled with the weight of our circumstances. Ultimately, the decision to wait was one we chose.
One fateful morning, a neurologist strode into Ricky’s hospital room. She chose that moment to attempt to dictate our course of action. “If this were my child, I wouldn’t do this,” she stated matter-of-factly. She continued, “Do you know how heartbreaking it is to see him in this condition?” and added, "We can’t use our resources every day to keep him alive." In our steadfast fight to wait, guided by God’s wisdom, DeLisa and I firmly informed her that it was not her efforts that had kept him alive, but rather the grace of God that sustained him. She left the room feeling defeated and only returned one last time to inform us that we would be assigned a new doctor before exiting the floor altogether.
During my ongoing “waiting” struggle, a battle that I’m honestly still navigating now, I decided to reach out and call my aunt to talk everything out. I needed to voice my thoughts, to make sure I wasn’t losing my mind amidst the chaos. I desperately sought some sort of confirmation that I was, in fact, still grounded in reality. One of the first and most profound things she said to me was that while waiting, I would undoubtedly experience good days filled with hope, bad days clouded with despair, and also those days where absolutely nothing seems to happen. However, she emphasized that this doesn’t necessarily mean that God isn’t working behind the scenes. It simply means to be still, to wait patiently, to pray fervently and to trust that He will indeed fix everything, but only in His perfect timing.
The very next day, my mother requested a rescan of Ricky’s heart, even though the doctors insisted that it would do no good whatsoever. Their reasoning was clear: "If the clot isn’t in his heart, then it means it’s in his brain.” The following day, they conducted the scan. In that tense moment, I found myself able to see the results before they formally communicated them to me. To my shock and elation, the clot was gone. “No longer seen.” How is this even possible without blood thinners or any other kind of medication?? The answer is simple: God. That’s how. God is the ultimate medicine, the divine physician, the extraordinary miracle worker.
They informed us that it wasn’t in his heart, yet they would need to immediately check his brain because that’s where it would likely be found… but it was NOT THERE. They actually performed the scan twice just to be sure. Then they proceeded to claim, “Okay, it will be in his liver and spleen.” … but again, it was NOT THERE. The next day, the only explanation they could muster was that, somehow, it had simply disappeared.
We immediately informed them that it wasn’t just somehow; it was undeniably God.
I am truly so thankful that I have my little sister right by my side to back me up during these challenging days. I feel incredibly grateful that our mom is healthy enough to be here with us, offering her love and support. I am thankful for a God who is a miracle worker, performing wonders in our lives. A God who doesn’t care if a person is homeless, high, drunk, in recovery, rich, or lets bad words slip; He loves us all the same, unconditionally. He knows every move of our life, every joy and struggle we encounter. He is the one truly in control, guiding us through it all with grace and mercy.
1 Peter 1:6-7 In this you rejoice, though now for a little while, if necessary, you have been grieved by various trials, so that the tested genuineness of your faith—more precious than gold that perishes though it is tested by fire—may be found to result in praise and glory and honor at the revelation of Jesus Christ.
