You remember when Annie’s heart failed, right?
You remember how her 8-week-old body didn’t know yet that her heart was deathly sick, but the pictures on the screens and the numbers in the blood proved it, right?
You remember agonizing moments begging for answers, hoping for good news, praying for another goodnight kiss, right?
You remember putting your baby to bed in a sterile room, giving the night nurse instructions for her care, waiting on the shuttle to cart you 15 blocks “home” to a 45-room house full of teary-eyed mommas whose arms ache empty, right?
You remember wrangling a 2-year-old on city streets because little sister’s children’s hospitals don’t have backyard swingsets, right?
You need to remember because today Annie’s heart is failing again.
Today Annie’s body doesn’t yet know that her heart is deathly sick, but the pictures on the screens and the numbers in the blood prove it.
Today was full of agonizing moments begging for answers, hoping for good news, praying for so many more goodnight kisses. Today we wait to know more while we relish in normal for a few more nights.
But you remember, right? How there was no hope. There weren’t any viable options. There weren’t many doctors willing to take a chance.
You remember, right? How her life was threatened by a simple cold virus. How she needed a blood transfusion. How she had “60% chance of surviving the operation.”
But you remember, right? HOW GOD HEALED HER! How her failing heart showed miraculous, medically-unexplainable normal function 2 days before open heart surgery.
But you remember, right? How the surgery was a breeze. How the surgeon acknowledged the miracle. How she went home 5 days later.
You remember, right?
God, we remember. The horrors. The despair. The suffering. The fear. But most of all we remember your miraculous touch.
Would you join us in asking that the God who fearfully and wonderfully made Annie would miraculously heal her failing heart again?