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The Silver Bell
I realized then. I may have encountered an angel.
Several days earlier, Leon, my husband, came home to tell me that he had lost his job. Pregnant and overwhelmed, I cried myself to sleep.
That night my water broke, and our third baby came seven weeks prematurely. Instead of getting to snuggle our newborn, I held a blurry Polaroid picture. A couple hours later a helicopter transported him to an intensive care nursery.
The next day at the neo-natal unit, our son lay on top of a machine that looked like a butcher's block. He was intubated with a large tube inserted down his throat to keep him alive. My heart plummeted.
His concave chest, due to underdeveloped lungs, looked like it could hold a quarter cup of water. While he lay clad in only a diaper, a heating lamp warmed him. I wanted to swaddle him tightly in a blanket and cocoon him. He seemed so alone.
The nurse warned me to touch him carefully because preemies have overly sensitive skin. Gently, I laid my fingers on his bare skin. With my lips almost touching his cheek, I softly whispered, “John.” A tiny strained cry like a raspy whimper responded. He knew me.
Overwhelmed by his fierce courage and his terrible vulnerability, I began to cry. Tears erupted from deep within me. A huge boulder seemed to be crushing me.
Doctors gave me grim daily reports about the various tests. Once again with a second baby, I heard those dreaded words, “Mrs. Alderman, your baby is very sick.” I prayed constantly, struggling to harness my thoughts on the day. If my mind wandered ahead to thoughts of tomorrow, I couldn't bear it.
One morning while driving to the hospital as the mountains of Denver loomed before me, I cried out, “God, I'm desperate. Please help me. Please don't let my son die.”
A few seconds later God whispered His answer into my heart, “The Lord watches over you.”1 After agonizing for days, I finally experienced His peace and comfort.
A couple of days later, Leon gave me a silver bell to remind me of God's hope. Leon said, “Pamela, God is in control. Trust Him. He will work everything out.” The silver bell reminded me that I could trust God no matter what happened.
But a battle still waged within my heart. The hospital would not allow me to stay through the night. Every night I pleaded with God to cradle our baby when I couldn't. I kept thinking of the French king who conducted an experiment in which he would not allow nurses to touch or talk to newborn babies. All the infants died.
And then God answered my cry.
One morning at church, a woman I had never met asked, “Are you John's mother?” She identified herself as our son's nurse on the night shift. She explained that she had a special heart for John and felt particularly drawn to him. Then she added, “I hold your son every night.”
Her words gripped my heart. I never saw her again.
In a dramatic way, I learned that God's help is limitless and that He had heard my desperate cry. His answer of hope came like the peals of a mighty bell thundering from Heaven—through the loving arms of a nurse. Returning home, I knelt beside my bed, sobbing, “Thank you, Jesus.”
Whether I encountered an angel or not, God used her as a visible reminder of His invisible reality—He profoundly loved me and cared about my deepest longings. After 23 anguishing days and nights, John came home.
The silver bell on my dresser reminds me that even when facing life's most devastating unknowns, God is at work, whether I can see Him or not.
“...where does my Help come from? My help comes from the Lord, the Maker of heaven and earth.”Psalm 121:1-2 (NIV)
Bible Reference:
1 Psalm 121:5 (NIV)
Scripture taken from the HOLY BIBLE, NEW INTERNATIONAL VERSION (NIV)
Copyright © 1973, 1978, 1984 International Bible Society.
Used by permission of Zondervan Bible Publishers.
