Emily has been in the hospital for just over two months now, and we have had our share of important landmarks along the way. For the first three weeks it seemed like all the landmarks were outlining a path that we did not want to go down, but were compelled to follow for better or worse. There was the last time Emily could stand up, and the last time she could brush her teeth. Then came the move to the ICU and the feeding tube and finally, the ventilator. Out of all of these, it was the last that was so unequivocally difficult to handle. It marked the point where her body could no longer support its own attempt to breathe, and it marked a near total loss of control for Emily.
Those of you who know Emily, know that she's very independent, and so relinquishing control of this most basic operation of her body - breathing - came as a real blow.
After a short rally it became apparent that her body was not cooperating with her, and that this would be a long road.
If you've been following along you know most of the rest of the story. What you don't know yet, however, is that as of 3:00 this afternoon Emily has been off of the ventilator for 31 straight hours, and counting. Her blood gasses are holding steady and her body is reclaiming it's ability to breathe. When I came in today and she told me that she had been of the vent since yesterday she began to cry tears of Joy as I hugged her and told her how proud and happy I was.
"You are amazing," I said to her.
She shook her head and pointed up, saying "no, God is amazing."
"This," she reminded me "is a miracle."
And so it is that I've come to say that it is time to begin telling resurrection stories - miraculous stories of healing.
We're only a week away from Pentecost, but it feels like we are just now experiencing the fullness of the Easter season. There is still a ways to go, but even so, we give thanks, and rejoice in this sign of the resurrection along Emily's path to restoration.
