A Fighting Chance
My husband and I were overjoyed at the birth of our second child, John Drake Phillips on October 27th, 1980. He weighed in at 8 pounds 10 ounces. He was born with a black eye and we joked about him one day being our heavyweight fighter. Little did we know that in just two short weeks, he would be in a fight for his very life.
On John's two week birthday, he woke me up with this whimpering that sounded like a sick puppy. I went over to his crib to see what was wrong. I couldn't get him to open his eyes, but this high pitched whimper continued. I picked him up and tried to get him to nurse, but I had no success. The entire time his eyes were tightly closed and he continued to whine. I immediately took him to the doctor. The doctor didn't waste any time telling me that we had to go promptly to the hospital. They took John and admitted him. My husband and I were in a state of shock. How did our healthy 8 pound 10 ounces newborn baby boy get so sick? After several tests were run, a pediatrician came to visit with us. He was very somber and informed us that they believed that John had contracted bacterial spinal meningitis. The pediatrician went on to explain that John might die. He felt that John possibly picked up some bug in the delivery room and that the disease was through his entire system. Our hearts beat wildly. It felt like a bad dream. The doctor explained that if they could get the fever to break, we might have a chance of saving our little boy.
Over the next twelve days, my husband and I would take turns spending the night at the hospital. We had a little two-year-old daughter at home and she didn't understand why she had to be separated from us. So, we tried to keep life as normal as possible for her. John's fever continued to rage in his lifeless body for seven days. That evening I stood by his bed and whispered in his little ear to not give up. I begged him to please keep fighting and told him how much we loved him. I had to pump my breasts because we weren't allowed to hold him and he wasn't eating or responding. As I sat in the hospital room, a nurse had turned on the 700 Club on the television. A gospel group was singing a song.
How sweet to hold a newborn baby.
And feel the pride and joy he gives.
But greater still the calm assurance,
This child can face uncertain days,
Because He lives.
Because He lives I can face tomorrow.
Because He lives all fear is gone.
Because I know He holds the future,
And life is worth the living just because He lives.
I can't even explain what happened during that song, but I started crying uncontrollably in the hospital room. I was aware that the Presence of God had come into that hopeless place. As if those musicians were physically there with me, one of the singers stopped the song and said that they had a Word from the Lord for some young mother that was watching the program. They said, "There's a newborn baby boy who is very sick in the hospital."
I sat there stunned as the singer continued, "The walls of the hospital room are green."
I quickly looked at the hospital walls and they were green. I couldn't believe my ears. She went on to describe how the crib was under a window. It was exactly how John's room was.
"The doctors have told you that your little boy might not live, but God wants you to know that this sickness is not unto death. Your baby is going to live."
They went on to finish the song. As they sang the final chorus, a peace swept over my being. I knew that John was going to live. I knew that God was going to heal our little boy. I went over and felt John's forehead. He still had a high fever. I raised my hands to Heaven and began to thank God for healing our son. I knew I was standing on holy ground and that God was granting us a miracle. In the middle of the night John's fever broke. The doctor came in and was guarded as he spoke.
"John has had a high fever several days. He is going to live, but he might have brain damage."
No fear gripped my heart. No "what ifs?" captured my soul. I had experienced a visit from Heaven and I knew that John was healed. Five days later we took our baby boy home completely whole.
John is now twenty-six years. We reminisce often of the day that Jesus passed by and healed him. We are convinced that John wouldn't have had a fighting chance of survival without a supernatural touch from Heaven, even if he was born with a black eye.
Dixie is a pastor's wife, ghostwriter, mother of four grown children, and grandmother of five "perfect" grandchildren. You can find out more about the ministry she and her husband are involved in at www.floydslighthouse.com. Guardian Angel Publishing has published 10 of Dixie's children's books.
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