The call came in twice.
By the time Friday evening arrives, I am ready for my phone to be silenced and all social media to stay hushed under the closed lid of my lap top.
Answering the second call changed all of the elaborate notions I had for myself and the weekend. And my worst fear was on the other end of the line. A frantic cry and words that still press on my heart like a vice. My heart will never beat the same again. But neither will my brothers.
His heart had stopped.
He was with his family, and they pulled and prayed and cried and rushed him to the hospital. 12-15 minutes without oxygen.
And their world was spinning out of control and it will never sit just the same on its axis again.
Our weekend turned into our worst fears ever. Watching and waiting for life.
How many weekends have I toiled the time away with thoughts of how routine and predictable life can be when the school books are put away, and the chores, the weekend stops and starts run together. And when Sunday arrives, I always wish for Monday to be another day of rest. Just one more? And the little bit of weekends we have seem so short.
Until I am sitting beside the man that grew up as one of my closest friends, watching his breaths and waiting for a sign of life. Any sign.
And now the weekend watch was long. No more wishing for another day to prolong the sitting.
Now I was praying for life. A new Monday and a new word of promise. I was afraid. How can a world change so quickly?
It was my worst dream. A week of vigil at my brother’s bedside. My sister in law and I with our heads together on his white sterile sheet as we rub his hands to wait for some thing. Any thing. Please Lord.
No pulse, no oxygen, a blockage in the heart and now a hypothermic state, and we wonder if our lives will ever be the same again.
Will his life ever be the same again?
Whispers through the dark, curtains pulled. My siblings and I holding hands, tears on shoulders, all while our Maker watches and heals.
I was afraid. This space in time where I was having trouble connecting my faith and my words.
Miraculously God uses the time as we pace, pray and plead. He makes all things whole.
And while my brother heals under the wings of Jesus, and we watch and wait… He works a miracle. Right before our eyes.
Will I ever look at the weekend the same again? How God can turn something so short into something so long – But time has no hold on God.
Hanging on the very next breath ushered us into the day my brother opened his eyes. It was a slow blink and time was ushered away.
He reached for my hand and mouthed the words, “I love you Sep.” No voice, just movement of his lips.
My faith was shaken in that moment. It was a like a fire to my soul. No matter how many words of doubt, assailing tears and drama that unfolds in the waiting room of the ICU, I saw the power of God rise and shine up and over my brother’s life.
And when fiery darts of doubt come my way, I will always remember the moment my faith was put to shame. On the Cross. And all my fears fled away.
And the week of days watching and waiting slipped into eternity and his breath was deeper and his life was re-started. Never the same, lost on time, and given a new outlook on all that we have.
One breath. One Hope. One Life. The best news ever.
A weekend restart. Holding on to Hope.