Prayers are working

My mother-in-law just called to tell us that little Calyx, who only days before was in a medically-induced coma, intubated and unrecognizable, today is eating and breathing on his own, about to undergo surgery on his elbow and is asking to see his siblings.  This really is miraculous progress and a testament to the power of the prayers that are storming heaven.  In the midst of tragedy, there is so very much for which to be thankful.  Praise God.

Stuff

I discovered today that Hannah and I are at a very unique spot in terms of the difference in our body size.  For example, (of course this is hypothetical) if I were to wash in hot water an almost brand-new wool sweater from an expensive store in Texas, and then put that newly cleaned sweater in the dryer on the high heat setting, the result would be a sweater that, only hours before fit me, is now the perfect size for Hannah.  If this were to happen, I would hold up the sweater when Hannah arrived home from school and pronounce, "Look, I made you a sweater today."  Hannah would rejoice and Dave would remark, "You mean that really fit you once?"

Joseph came home today from school wearing two bracelets that said "I got caught doing something good today" and a ring that was rewarded to him for good behaviour.  He was very excited and told me that his teacher had 'caught' him lining up the boots outside the classroom without being asked and that he had been very good at school mass that morning.  "Do you think these are things I should do at home, Mom?"  I stared blankly.

Speaking of Joseph, the remarks for the gym portion of his report card were as follows:  Joseph needs to take more responsibility with his physical safety and that of his classmates.  I love the euphemistic stylings of report card comments.  I mean, c'mon, there's a reason that Dave's grade eight students call Joseph 'Joe Dangerous'.  His nonchalant attitude to personal safety was highlighted this week by his umpteenth trip to the secretary's office for an injury.  Each time he is injured the tears are so profuse and the blubbering so unintelligible that Dave is called to the office to interpret.  There have been countless split lips, cut knees and bumped heads.  In fact, Joseph has hit his head so many times in the same place that he has a permanent fibroma marking the spot (essentially, a permanent goose egg).  The latest trip to the office is worthy of mention and even caused Dave to crack a smile.

Apparently Joe was in the bathroom when he tripped or slipped (the blubbering was difficult to decipher) and fell, hitting his head against the urinal.  Even the secretary was trying not to laugh as Joseph recounted the story to his father.  I don't know why hitting one's head on a urinal is so funny, but it just is.

Last but not least, I have discovered that the easiest way to pass the time while running on the treadmill is to read a book on the Kindle e-reader.  My latest read is a short book on grammar.  This is the first book on grammar that I have ever read.  Expect improved usage of the hyphen and semi colon very, very soon.  Exciting stuff.

Perspective: updated, February 26

Update # 2:  my mother-in-law just called to say that the youngest, Calyx, is no longer intubated and is breathing on his own.  He also responded to interaction.  Small but significant steps.  Keep praying.

 www.nugget.ca/2014/02/24/community-comes-to-familys-aid.

Update#1:  all three children and their parents are at CHEO.  My mother-in-law and I spent yesterday visiting them.  The older two children are doing as well as expected and, in a rather nostalgic turn for me, were on the same floor where Isaac was during his CHEO stay last year.  (The visit was a walk down memory lane.). The youngest, Calyx, is in the ICU with multiple internal injuries and skull fractures.  His mother believes that he was run over by the truck thus suffering the greatest injuries.  There are many signs of hope:  the bruising on his brain is beginning to resolve, the pressure is decreasing and there appears to be no brain damage.  Both parents are holding up well and were so grateful for everyone's prayers.  In their words, "Please, keep them up, we really need them."


Sometimes life is suddenly put into proper perspective.  Dave's mom phoned today at lunch to pass on some family news.  I want to say terrible family news, but it is both terrible and miraculous at once.  Dave's father's side of the family is quite large, 32 first cousins.  One of those cousins, Tracy is a veterinarian in northern Ontario.  She and her husband have three children:  Francis, 14, Alexina, 10, and Calyx, 9.  (Boy, girl, boy). Yesterday, all three children were hit by a speeding pick-up truck while waiting to cross the street in downtown North Bay.  Terrible news, miraculous news - they are all alive.  I can't stop praising God that they are alive.  They really shouldn't be:  a testimony to the presence of their guardian angels.  At present Francis is in hospital in North Bay after the removal of one of his kidneys; Alexina and Calyx are both at CHEO in Ottawa with extensive injuries that have required surgery.  No one is paralyzed, no one is dead - give God the glory.  Please pray for this family, for no downward turns in health, for Francis'transfer to CHEO so that the family can be together (presently Mom is in North Bay with the oldest daughter while Dad is in Ottawa with the youngest two; I can only imagine how difficult that must be), pray for their strength, their health, their rest and for a great grace of hope and peace to settle upon them.  I will let you know of any updates.  Thank you so much.

P.s.  Pray for the 21-year-old man who hit them while speeding.  I can only imagine what he must be going through.  Pray that he doesn't fall into despair but somehow comes closer to the Lord in His mercy.  While you're at it, pray that the family receives a tremendous grace of forgiveness so that their physical suffering is not burdened by a spiritual one.

http://www.northbaynipissing.com/news-story/4380806-three-children-struck-on-downtown-north-bay-sidewalk/

Two weeks, oops; or, it's a beautiful life

One of the reasons that I have been so lazy with posting is that the preferred computer is also Dave's work computer and, well, ummm, Dave works a lot.  So, I am left with the iPad.  If any of you have ever tried to post from an iPad, I need go no further in explaining the difficulties.  Also, in between the last two sentences I had to physically remove Sarah from Isaac's forehead due to a fight over fingerpaints.  Such activities throw a wrench into the blog-posting schedule.  The iPad also doesn't allow for the uploading of pictures so I am left with text.  Thus, a brief story.

Last year at about this time I picked up a bookmark from the back of our church.  (I would link to it here, but the iPad.) On this bookmark was a picture of Archbishop Fulton Sheen and a copy of his prayer for the spiritual adoption of the unborn.  The short and the quick is that one prays the prayer daily for nine months.  Through the prayer one spiritually adopts an unborn baby who is in danger of abortion and prays for that baby from the point of conception until its birth (and hopefully beyond).  I decided to do this last February starting on the day of Joseph's conception six years before and ending on his birthday, November 28th.

Prior to starting this nine-month novena I had heard stories from other people who, after having prayed the prayer, actually met a baby who seemed to be the one for whom they had prayed.  The baby was born on the day that the novena ended; the baby was born into a situation that could have easily ended in abortion; and the baby even had the name that they had called the baby while praying the prayer.  I wondered if I would have a similar experience.  Dave laughed, I scowled.

So, for nine months I prayed this prayer.  I grew attached to this little baby and began to pray for his parents, especially his mother, and for his grandparents whom I felt were to play a vital role in the baby's life.  I kept my ear out for any difficult pregnancies ending in November but heard of none.  I
grew so bold as to name the baby Joseph.

Last October Dave came home from school with his usual play-by-play of the day.  Toward the end of the daily rundown he said, "So-and-so's daughter is pregnant."  My ears perked up as I knew that this daughter was young, unmarrried and continuing a cycle of such pregnancies.  I didn't think of my novena, I just thought, "Thank God she is keeping the baby."  Then I asked Dave when she was due.  "That's the funny thing," he said, "She's due on Joe's birthday, November 28th."  And now my thoughts leapt to the novena.  "Does she know what she's having?" I asked.  "A boy as far as I know," Dave replied.

I could no longer contain my excitement and I burst out with the novena story to Dave.  I concluded with, "I bet she will name him Joseph.  I just know it.  This is the baby for whom I've been praying."  Dave assured me that, yes, this did seem to be the baby whom I had spiritually adopted, but in his characteristic practical manner told me that he was sure that the baby would have some sort of new-fangled, possibly made-up, name.  I had to agree.

November 28th came and went and the young mom was overdue.  I kept praying.  About a week later Dave came home from school with the news that the baby had been born but the birth had been quite traumatic and the grandparents were keeping vigil in the city while the baby remained in the NICU.  I kept praying.  A week after that news we heard that both mom and baby had been released and that the young lad had suffered no ill-effects from his difficult arrival.  Indeed, the new mom was nursing, the dad was by her side and they were making a go of being a family in the city.  I kept praying.  I asked Dave if he knew the baby's name.  He said that he couldn't remember but that it definitely wasn't Joseph.  Oh well, I thought, it doesn't really matter.

Then, around five weeks after the baby's birth, I noticed this young couple, baby in toe, at mass.  They were surrounded by the larger extended family and the sleeping and unaware newborn was about to be baptized.  My heart swelled and I went over after mass to meet them and offer my congratulations.  Wow, I thought, what a beautiful ending.

Except that wasn't the end.  On the way out of the church I grabbed our church bulletin and stuffed it in my purse.  We drove home, I made lunch and eventually sat down to eat and read something, anything.  The closest reading material was the church bulletin.  So, while I sat down to a hurried lunch, I perused the coming week's mass times, announcements of an upcoming church tea and pleas for monetary pledges toward the renovation fund.  Then I arrived at the bottom of the second page where deaths, baptisms and weddings are announced.  In 12-point font I read, "Let us pray for the following who were welcomed into the Church through the Sacrament of Baptism..."  And there it was, the new little baby for whom I had prayed for nine months and beyond was baptized in the very church where I had first picked up the prayer card on a little table near the back door.  And tucked next to the new-fangled first name was his more traditional middle name, Joseph.  My eyes still fill with tears.

I guess I had better start praying that novena again.