On Saturday, January 6th of 2018, my husband and I sat in the Emergency Room triage center as doctors flooded the room. The doctors and nurses were desperately trying to discover what was going on with our two-year-old, Samantha Grace. Her vitals were crashing as the doctors started running tests. Sammi had been sick on and off for the past week, and she just wasn’t getting better. By the time we took her in to the ER, she was sleeping 22 hours per day, couldn’t walk, and wasn’t responding to us. To better investigate her condition, the head doctor recommended that we put Sammi into a medically induced coma. My husband, Devin, and I stood on either of her bed and wept over our child as we tried to squeak out prayers and songs to sing her to sleep. As I tried to retain composure and sing to my beloved child, John 11:35 pressed upon my heart: “Jesus wept”. As she closed her eyes, my knees gave out and I sank to the floor.

    All Sunday afternoon, we were a complete mess. I wept over my intubated child as I considered the “even if” and “even when”.  I questioned my fuzzy theology on infant salvation and cried out to God for help as I wrestled through the concepts. That evening, Devin had gone home to help with our three other kids and I settled in for the night. As I tried to clear my mind of the present situation, her machines started blaring and doctors filled the room. I saw blood in her breathing tube and her vitals tanked. As I got Devin on the phone and asked him to start driving back, I sank to the ground and cried out to God. I asked Him to help in a miraculous way. I confessed that He has the power, authority and sovereignty to change this situation and I asked Him to do it. I begged Him to change His mind as the life-sustaining machines continued to beep and her vitals stabilized. We dared to hope.

   In the early hours of Monday morning, we were completely wrecked. Our pastor had arrived, as did some friends who came at the prompting of the Holy Spirit. We came face to face with the stark reality that our daughter might not survive this. And yet, her heart continued to beat (with the assistance of machines) and we continued to hope. Around one in the morning, I laid down on the couch and closed my eyes. What happened next, I can only describe as a vision. I watched the events of the previous hours unfold, but my viewpoint was from the corner, looking down on the room. I saw the doctors working on Sammi and I saw myself, laid out face down on the floor. I heard my screams, my sobs and my pleas for Him to intervene. I then saw her out of her body, and she was visibly concerned about me on the floor. She started to reach for me and she started saying, “Mom? Momma?”, though I couldn’t hear her. I then saw an arm reach around her and she looked up. Her face then beamed with joy as she inhaled. She was completely satisfied; she was no longer concerned about her mother weeping on the floor and she wasn’t scared or interested in anything else happening in the room. When I woke up, I immediately processed what I saw with everyone in the room. I’d be remiss to say that this is NOT a usual occurrence in our house. We aren’t of the stock that has visions frequently, so we processed what I saw through what we know in the Bible and it doesn’t contradict the character of God. Since I didn’t see her “go into the light” or whatever, we just figured Sammi was hanging out with Jesus while chaos ensued over here. With our fear safely compartmentalized, we dared to hope that Sammi would get better.

   She trudged through Monday, still sedated and under the careful watch of the doctors. All testing had been suspended so that her basic vitals could recover. Monday evening, we went to sleep a few feet from her and hoped for a less eventful evening. In the middle of the night, I woke up and felt this intense need to pray. The room was freezing cold as I walked over to the foot of her bed. As she lay unconscious, I prayed over her, the room, myself and Devin, for our marriage, for the doctors. I commanded anything that wasn’t on Team Jesus to leave the room. After a while, I felt at peace and went back to sleep. I didn’t think much of it until I received a text from a friend later on Tuesday, stating that she had an intense dream of a spiritual battle taking place in our room. Later in the evening, a friend texted that as she prayed, she saw two angels standing on either side of Sammi’s bed. By Tuesday night, I felt confident that the Lord was amping up to do a huge miracle and that Sammi would awaken soon.

   By Wednesday morning, the doctors prepared us that they were going to test for brain functionality in the afternoon, as she was not responding to basic neurological tests. As we braced for the upcoming texts, I received a text from my mother-in-law, who was staying with our three other kids. Our three year old, Katie, had come running down the stairs and said “Grandma, Grandma, I had a dream last night! I had a dream that a little girl was sleeping, but she was coloring. Her mom told her to wake up, and she did!”. When my mother-in-law asked who the little girl was, Katie responded that she didn’t know. Well, I received that text and was convinced this was dream was about Sam! We had not told Katie the full story of what was happening with Sammi, only that she was very sick. I ran over to Sammi’s bed and shouted “WAKE UP! WAKE UP!”, to no avail.

   That afternoon, the doctors ran all of the tests for brain functionality. With great heaviness, they sadly announced that she had failed every single one. Medically speaking, Sammi was medically brain dead. As they left the room, I was just confused… because that’s not how this story was supposed to end. God was going to do this huge miracle and was going to save Sam, just like Jairus’ daughter! Did she need to die first? As I stared at my lifeless child, my husband grabbed my hands and said “The Bible describes multiple spiritual gifts like teaching, serving, prophecy, and mercy. I believe mine is discernment. Sunday night, you had a vision of Jesus coming to get Sammi. Monday night, you were woken up in the middle of the night to pray over the room. We then got confirmation from a friend confirming the spiritual battle. We then received a text from a separate friend of the two angels in our room: one for you, and one for me. This morning, we heard of Katie’s dream about a little girl waking up. She knows Sammi from every angle, that little girl in Katie’s dream is not Sammi. I believe it’s someone who is going to wake up to a life in Christ because of  this story.” And that's when it all clicked. I was absolutely devastated. After a few harsh sobs, I slowly allowed the hope to blossom again. I wouldn't see Sammi on this side of heaven, but she's safe! As I laid next to her body the last time, I asked the Lord for one more miracle. I begged Him to use this. Use my tears, use my pain, use the life of this sweet little girl for the glory of the Kingdom.

   So, why tell this story? In the past year since Sammi went home, I have seen Him answer my simple prayer request. In a story where many would question God’s care, provision and goodness, we can definitively prove otherwise. As we sang Sammi to sleep, John 11:35 swirled around my head: Jesus wept. I had memorized that verse a few years ago because it’s the shortest verse in the New Testament (isn't that just ridiculous??). But in my terror, He brought that verse to mind to show me how He is right here with me, weeping along side me.

He is still near.

When it has been five million years and Sammi and I reflect on this trial, we’ll talk about how this season was hard. She’ll point out the people who had their faith strengthened because of this story. But more than all, she’ll point out the people who came to know Jesus as a result of this story and who are there celebrating with us because of this trial.

He is still good.