Like any good mother, when Karen found out that another baby was on the way, she did what she could to help her 3-year-old son, Michael, prepare for a new sibling. They found out that the new baby was going to be a girl, and day after day, night after night, Michael sang to his sister in Mommy’s tummy.
The pregnancy progressed normally for Karen, an active member of Panther Creek United Methodist Church in Morristown, Tennessee. Then the labor pains came. Every five minutes . . .every minute. But complications arose during delivery. Hours of labor. Would a C-section be required?
Finally, Michael’s little sister is born. But she is in serious condition. With sirens howling in the night, the ambulance rushes the infant to the neonatal intensive care unit at St. Mary’s Hospital, Knoxville, Tennessee. The days inch by. The little girl gets worse. The Pediatric Specialist tells the parents, “There is very little hope. Be prepared for the worst.”
Karen and her husband contact a local cemetery about a burial plot. They had fixed up a special room in their home for the new baby –now they plan a funeral.
Michael kept begging his parents to let him see his sister, “I want to sing to her,” he said. Week two in intensive care. It looked as if a funeral would come before the week was over. Michael kept nagging about singing to his sister, but kids are never allowed in Intensive Care. But, Karen makes up her mind. She would take Michael whether they liked it or not. If he didn’t see his sister now, he may never see her alive.
She dresses him in an oversized scrub suit and marches him into ICU. He looks like a walking laundry basket, but the head nurse recognizes him as a child and bellows, “Get that kid out of here now! No children are allowed in ICU.” The mother rises up strong in Karen, and the usually mild-mannered lady glares steel-eyed into the head nurse’s face, her lips a firm line. “He is not leaving until he sings to his sister!”
Karen tows Michael to his sister’s bedside. He gazes at the tiny infant losing the battle to live. And he begins to sing. In the pure-hearted voice of a 3-year-old, Michael sings: “You are my sunshine, my only sunshine, you make me happy when skies are gray . . .”
Instantly the baby girl responds. The 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 ragged, strained breathing becomes as smooth as a kitten’s purr. Keep on singing, Michael.
“The other night, dear, as I lay sleeping, I dreamed I held you in my arms…”
Michael’s little sister relaxes as rest, healing rest, seems to sweep over her. Keep on singing, Michael.
Tears conquer the face of the bossy head nurse. Karen glows. “You are my sunshine, my only sunshine. Please don’t, take my sunshine away.”
Funeral plans are scrapped. The next, day—the very next day—the little girl is well enough to go home! Woman’s Day magazine called it “the miracle of a brother’s song.” The medical staff just called it a miracle. Karen called it a miracle of God’s love.
A few weeks later, Michael’s little sister was baptized at the Panther Creek Church.
What a gift of love!
(Note: According to www.snopes.com this story is in the glurge category and may or may not be true–but wouldn’t it be nice if it was! I believe that the unborn baby can hear and feel what is going on around it. I also believe that love is very powerful and have personally seen and brought things back from the brink of death with the power of love. Enjoy. Denice)