An expression of faith in the midst of tragedy.

On Jan. 27 I got a text message that I never again want to receive. I was still sleeping, dreaming that I was actually an artist and sketching a picture of my 11-month-old niece, Heidi, lying with her mom (my sister). Suddenly Chris burst through the bedroom door, saying "We need to go! Heidi is at the ER! She's being flight-for-lifed!"

My heart fell, even as I jumped out of bed. I asked what he meant, but that was all he knew. My sister had texted and said they were at the ER with Heidi and my mom had texted just moments later, saying they were sending her to Springfield (a 40 minute drive) in a helicopter. I immediately called my mom and heard what we feared the most--when Kelsey (my sister) had suddenly woken up at 6 a.m. and checked on Heidi, her skin was gray, she was barely breathing and she wouldn't wake up or respond in any way. My mom sounded like she was on the brink of losing it, that there was very little hope, and asked me to do the only thing we could -- pray. And get to the hospital as fast as we could.

As I sped through a 3-minute long shower, the tears came unchecked. If I could only share moments with Heidi through this column, it would make even more sense why this was so devastating. Every time a baby or young child is involved, it's incredibly difficult and painful in a completely different way. But then, the fact that it was Heidi... I've never met a baby that smiles as much as she does. You can't look at her without seeing her smile. We've often joked that her cheeks must hurt from all the grinning she does. Throughout her short lifetime, it was more of a challenge to take a picture of her with a serious face than to get her to smile for her pictures. If you could only use one word to describe the little baby, it wouldn't be a hard choice. The one word that encompasses her very nature, essence and personality is sweet. Sweetness just emanates from her in a way this writer can't even put into words. She's had more strangers, neighbors, grandmas and grandpas, and family members charmed into adoring her big blue eyes and bright, cheerful smile than I've ever seen. These thoughts and memories flooded my mind as I washed my hair, and I began to pray -- pray for Heidi, for the doctors that would work on her, for my sister and brother-in-law, for her older sister Hailee, and for the rest of the family.

As we left the house, just 10 minutes after Chris woke me up, I remember thinking about how Zane and Kelsey have had a relatively easy marriage. They've not had any problems conceiving, during either of Kelsey's pregnancies, with either of their children, no major problems with finances, no serious illnesses, car accidents, job losses, etc. Still, I found myself praying, "Lord, not this. I know we all need trials to build and mature our faith and perseverance, but not this! Please!"

We headed into town, made a stop at Zane and Kelsey's to pick up their contacts, a change of clothes, and clothes and shoes for Hailee, whom they'd scooped out of bed and taken in her footie pajamas, and headed to Springfield. My mom called to tell us that Heidi and Kelsey were on their way to Springfield via helicopter. She was crying. Hope was slim. In the ER in Branson, the doctor had begun the process of calling time of death. Thankfully he had been interrupted and had not finished. If he would have, they would have stopped working and that would have been the end. At least now, in the helicopter, there was still a chance, however small it seemed to be. After Kelsey and Heidi had taken off, my mom was told that usually the only time they allow parents to accompany children in the helicopter is when they don't expect the child to make it. They can treat a child without a parent's consent, but they cannot harvest organs or keep them alive to harvest organs without a parent's consent, thus, Kelsey was allowed to ride with Heidi. We all started the drive that seemed never-ending, me and Chris in our truck, Mom, Hailee and Zane in Zane and Kelsey's SUV. Each vehicle was full of tears and prayers, each of us hoping that Heidi would still be alive when they landed and that we would make it in time to see her one more time.

When we got to the hospital we saw the helicopter and went to the information desk. They told us that Heidi was still in the ER. The hospital seemed enormous as we followed hallway after hallway to get to the ER, only to be told that Heidi had just been taken up to the pediatric intensive care unit. That walk, though much longer, seemed better -- if she'd been taken to the PICU, she had made it to the hospital alive!

By this time Heidi was on prayer chains in four or five different states. People love to pray for babies, and we appreciated each and every prayer said on her behalf. People were praying for healing, declaring life and asking for peace and comfort in the midst of it all.

We were told to wait in the pediatric waiting room, that no one besides parents were allowed in. Soon even Zane and Kelsey were sent out, and they came to join us. They both seemed peaceful, but the entire tissue box that had been shoved in Zane's coat pocket gave witness to the emotions of the moment. Their pastor showed up in the waiting room and sat with us while we all waited. The doctors didn't know what was wrong, nor did they know how to make it better. It was just a waiting game--waiting for tests to come back, waiting to begin treatment, waiting to see if she would survive long enough to begin treatment once they knew what to treat.

When they finally let people into her room, we went in, two at a time, to see her, talk to her and pray over her. When it was my turn, I went in with my sister. Seeing Heidi lying in the hospital crib in nothing but her diaper with tubes coming out of almost every part of her, her eyes closed and her signature smile missing, I had to concentrate on keeping the tears at bay. In that moment all I wanted was to see her bright blue eyes and contagious smile again. But neither came. Across the crib, my sister held Heidi's hand and looked up at me.

"I'm not scared," she said, and I looked up at her quickly. "I haven't been scared this whole time." Her tone, so full of peace, bore witness to the truth of her words. "Because I know that whatever happens and however it feels, whether I feel happy or sad, I know that what happens is what God wants to happen and that it's best. I know that He is controlling the outcome and whatever happens, and however it  feels, I trust Him."

I remember looking across the crib at her and thinking, who is this woman in front of me? To say that we trust God when nothing is at stake is one thing. Even then, sometimes it's hard to hand over the 'what ifs' and accept His sovereignty. Chris and I feel like the LORD has been teaching us that He is good, no matter how things feel at the time, but it has been quite a journey of walking through the valley over and over. Only in that place and through that process, have we come to be able to say that He is good all the time, unrelated to how things feel in the moment, and even still, I wonder if I, in the same situation, in the crisis point of a moment, if I could say the same thing with such sincerity and conviction. And here my sister was, without having walked a road that has taken her from valley to valley to learn His character even when it feels too dark to see His face, standing over her sweet baby who was fighting for her very life with every ventilated breath, who was completely dependent on the machines that kept her alive for another moment, speaking those words when she knew all too well what the next hour might hold. I was in awe. In that moment, when there were no guarantees and very little hope in the physical sense, it was one of the sweetest, most genuine expressions of faith that I have ever had the privilege of seeing. And once again, as I have been ever since I can remember, I hoped that I could one day be like my older sister.

Chris, who had stayed in the waiting room with Zane, was equally as impressed. Zane didn't try to hide his emotions or his concern about his daughter. Zane is one of the best fathers we know -- his little girls have become the apples of his eye and he adores them. Yet, there was no fear, no bitterness, no questioning. He was solid for his family, even while looking for the good that would no doubt come out of the situation. Instead of sitting there, questioning God and trying to make deals that would turn the outcome in his favor, he was resigned to God's sovereignty and just as trusting. He sat and waited, reflecting on ways he wanted to change for the sake of his family, of things he wanted to be more intentional about to become an even better father and husband. He realized again just how important it is to be intentional about being a good father and spending time with his girls, even to a new degree. We had all watched the movie "Courageous" just the previous week...what a situation to situation to drive home the importance of being grateful for every moment you have with your children and the role of a father.

That whole day, we sat in awe of this couple who was not only part of our family but also our best friends, and felt humbled and honored to be close to them. I in no way mean to idolize them or hold them up on a pedestal, but their expression of faith and trust that day was beautiful and such an amazing picture of how our hearts, as believers, should be. In the midst of tragedy, they refused to be offended and insisted that our God is trustworthy, faithful and has victory over death. In that moment, it's as if they were confidently saying, "O death, where is your sting?" Because they knew that whether their daughter lived or died, she was not going to be snatched out of the hand of God and He would make the decision either way in His infinite wisdom. Life would not be stolen from their daughter, no matter what happened, because her life was held by One who was all-powerful and would control the outcome of the situation, no matter what it might be. Hallelujah!

In the hours and days following, Heidi was stabilized and the doctors determined that it was simply a sudden onset of pneumonia. As scary as that is in the sense that there's no way to prevent it, detect it or guard against it, that little girl that nearly had time of death spoken over her, was released from the hospital just four days after being flight-for-lifed, just hours after the doctors said she would have to stay in the hospital for another two weeks. Her recovery was truly miraculous and a week after being rushed to the ER, she took her first steps and will be home to eat heart-shaped cupcakes when we celebrate her 1st birthday on Monday, Feb. 6.


Thank You, thank You, Jesus!