Deacon John Writes:
“You are my sunshine”: a story of salt and sunshine.
Like all good parents, when Karen and her husband found that another baby was on the way, they did what they could to help their three-year old son, Michael, prepare for a new sibling. When they found the baby was going to be a girl, they would gather Michael in their arms and he would sing to his sister in Mummy’s tummy the only song he knows, “You are my sunshine, my only sunshine.” The pregnancy progresses normally, then the labour pains, but complications arise during delivery. Finally, Michael’s sister is born but she is in a serious condition. The days inch by but the little girl gets worse. The paediatric specialist tells the parents, “There is very little hope. Be prepared for the worst.” Michael keeps begging to see his sister. “I want to sing to her,” he pleads. But children are not allowed in the ICU. Finally, Karen decides she will take Michael to the hospital whether they like it or not, figuring that if he doesn’t see his sister now, he may never see her alive. She dresses him and marched him to the ICU, but the head nurse bellows, “Get that kid out of here now!” Karen glares into the nurse’s face, her lips a firm line, “He is not leaving until he sings to his sister!” Michael gazed at the tiny infant losing the battle to live, and begins to sing in the pure-hearted voice of a three-year-old: “You are my sunshine, my only sunshine, you make me happy, when skies are grey…” Instantly, the baby responds. Her pulse rate becomes calm and steady. Keep on singing Michael! “You never know dear how much I love you. Please don’t take my sunshine away.” The baby’s ragged, strained breathing becomes as smooth as a kitten’s purr. Michael’s little sister relaxes at rest, .healing rest seems to sweep over her. Keep on singing Michael! Tears conquer the face of the bossy head nurse. Karen glows. Funeral plans are scrapped. The next day -the very next day- the little girl is well enough to go home! – Karen called it a miracle of God’s love. The medical staff simply called it a miracle. We call it the Lazarus story all over again. Love is stronger than death.