I know what tragedy is.  I’ve seen it, read about it, heard about it, even seen other families walk through it.  I’ve watched a friend bury his brother.  Walked with friends as they bury their parents.  I’ve been to Africa and seen crushing poverty, disease, and an orphan crisis that defies my imagination.  And while I know what tragedy is, it’s never been personal.  Personal as in my family personal.

Looking back, I can see God’s protection on me and my family for more years than I can count.  And I’m now so grateful.  Yes, there has been sickness, there have been injuries, a major back injury with long term pain, kids with concussions, and hard times financially, but not real life and death tragedy.  Until now. Now our own personal tragedy is a  40 year old mother of four (and one of those four is a newborn) with a heart that blew out.  Brought back from the edge of death by EMS using paddles three times before they could get her to the hospital.  Triple bypass and a total of 4 open heart surgeries.  So far.  A month in the ICU on life support.  We have walked with her husband as he tells their kids that mom is in the hospital, and no, they can’t go see her right now.  And no, he can’t promise that mom is coming home soon, or ever.  All he can promise is that the doctors are doing everything they can to fix her heart.  So the kids write notes and draw pictures, which join countless pictures taped to the walls of her room in the ICU.  In case she can see them at some point, in case she needs a reminder of why she keeps fighting instead of giving up.  We want the nurses know that this patient has a life to go back to, we want every doctor to know she is so much more than a chart, so much more than a set of numbers.  She’s not a patient, she’s a mom, a wife, a sister, an aunt, a daughter, a friend.

In the midst of this, of couple things have become a little clearer.  I realize that faith is just of set of beliefs, until tested.  Faith can be the framework you build your life around, and then, all of a sudden, it gets real.  Where is God is this?  Why did He allow this to happen?  Why doesn’t He heal her?  We are doing everything right, praying, believing, calling out to Him in faith.  Hundreds of Christ followers are doing the same on her behalf.  Now is when my faith becomes more than a set of beliefs, it becomes real.  Or it dies.

Fast forward two months.  She’s home now.  With a pump in her heart, and 12 pounds of batteries in a backpack she carries all the time to keep the pump running.  Days are filled with physical therapy, meds, and rest.  Finding a new normal.  Building strength for a heart transplant at some point.  Tragedy turned miraculous, and a renewed sense of the brevity of life.  We have a new sense of prayer, deep gratitude for our faithful friends who battled for her life and health in daily and hourly prayer.

And in the midst of this, we realize that God is sovereign.  Pure and simple, He is sovereign.  We have seen too many families come into the ICU and leave without their loved one.  In a strange way, tragedy is relative.  Our personal tribulations are much more than most, but so much less than some.  We have watched death, pain, and suffering walk the halls of the ICU.  We have also seen nurses and doctors literally witness our miracle with us, and they are not the same.  Nor are we.