Miracle in the Rain
As my daughter drove furiously up a mountain freeway in a rainstorm, her vehicle hydroplaned and flipped upside down, along with my world as I knew it.
Carl and I inched our way to the hospital, driving through gushing steams of water. I was numbed by the news of Jennifer’s accident. Carl was silent. He prayed for his step-daughter. We knew no details, only that Jennifer had been airlifted to a trauma center 20 miles away.
My heart cried out. "Please Lord, don't let my daughter die with a wall between us."
For the past year, Jen had been on a mad dash from her problems. With her marriage unraveling, her natural spunk turned every family gathering turned into a sparring match. Outwardly she seemed shockproof, in complete control, but inside Jennifer was still a fragile young girl with broken dreams, aching for the father who abandoned his family years ago. I tried to mend each rip in her life with a mother's counsel and correction, but my unwelcome words only made her more defensive.
She hadn't spoken to me in over two months.
At the hospital, the neurosurgeon grimly said, “Surprisingly, she has only a few broken ribs, but she has a serious head injury.” She was in "bad shape." His dismayed look said it all. He didn’t think she’d make it.
So this is where the rubber meets the road when it comes to faith, Lord?
We dashed down to the hospital chapel and found her husband Steve. “We had a terrible fight last night, and I said some awful things.” His face filled with pain. As I sobbed, Romans 8:28 came to mind: "All things work together for good. . ." How many times had I spouted that verse to someone in crisis? Did I really believe it now?
All things? Even tragic car accidents?
Then it hit me. Fretting would not change the outcome. Panicking would do me no good. If I trusted God, as I’ve claimed, I must cast all doubts aside. My daughter's life was in God’s hands. My heart breaking, I told God, I trust you no matter what. I’ll praise you no matter what. This may be the toughest thing I ever promise to do.
Jen lay in a coma; her swollen, shaved head hooked to tubes, wires and pressure monitors. Machines blipped and beeped while nurses worked frantically to keep her blood pressure stable. If not, death could steal her at any moment. If she did survive, brain damage was likely.
God give me your perspective on this. My spiritual eyes are too blurry. I looked up at saw Jenny, so peaceful, so beautiful. God seemed to be restoring her soul while she slept.
A voice pulled me from my thoughts. "How's my girl?" a young hospital technician asked.
"I was at the accident scene with this little lady,” Phillip then told me. He'd been heading down the mountain when he saw a massive billow of water ahead and a tiny dot catapult from the sun roof of a car; it was Jennifer, whose body crash-landed on the freeway just inches from her mangled vehicle.
"It took me three, four minutes to get there,” Phillip explained. “I was late to work, but something told me I had to stop.” He saw the highway patrol officer cover Jen’s curled, lifeless body with a yellow slicker. Turning to call the coroner, the offer waved Phillip away. “She's not going to make it.” But Phillip shot back, "I won't believe that!"
Trained as a Navy field medic, he went to work on my daughter. Finally, she gasped a breath. But it wouldn’t be enough. Her only hope was in the rescue helicopter that hovered in the sky, unable to land because of fierce rain and wind that battered the roadway. Just then another car pulled up, an off-duty EMT who had seen the commotion. He just happened to have a respirator in his car.
Minutes later, the storm quieted, and the helicopter landed.
I suddenly imagined Jesus darting to catch Jennifer, his body cushioning her against a deadly fall that could have broken her body. I envisioned the Lord prompting Phillip to stop, directing the scene, clearing the raging skies for the circling helicopter.
Then I knew what it meant to have a peace that passes all understanding. Much good would come from this. A recent Bible study lesson became real: When God decides to do something, he does it as only he can—so people can come to know him.
And know him better.
According to the doctor's charts, Jennifer's condition was not a hopeful one. It didn't matter. God works from his own heavenly charts.
Carl and I arrived for church early the next day to update our pastor on Jen’s condition. God reached down and hugged us through the arms of the congregation. Then I opened the bulletin and shook my head in disbelief: the message title was, “God’s Purpose for My Problems.” How we respond to problems reveals what we believe about God.
I shared this later with Steve. "Whatever happens, I know God has allowed it, and even if she is disabled, I'm committed to this marriage forever." God would use this tragedy to grow us all in different ways.
All we could do was pray and wait. I had a joy that had no earthly explanation, and all my friends asked me, “Are you in shock?”
God was at work, and I was in awe of what he would do next.
A few days later I found out. My former husband, whom we hadn't seen in seven years, showed up at the hospital. Taking one look at his Jennifer on a breathing machine, he hung his head. "Can we talk somewhere?"
I sat facing the man who'd ripped my heart out, who'd turned his back on his young daughters. "If I hadn't walked out on you," he said, "none of this would have happened. She’s just like me, reckless and immature, running away from herself. I'm sorry I messed up our marriage, Jan. You were a good wife. None of this would be happening if I hadn’t left you. Will you forgive me?”
How I’d dreamt of hearing those very words.
His concern comes awfully late though. I wanted to launch into a full report, make sure he knew all the details of the struggles we’d had because of his selfish choice, how his daughters were forever scarred, but those words wouldn’t come out. All I could manage to utter was, "I forgave you long ago." He fell into my arms and we wept together
As God's grace poured over me, the last remnants of my own pain melted away. I felt only sadness for Bob. Though his decision had torn me apart, it had led me to reach out to the Lord. Bob was still in bondage to his guilt.
I couldn’t sleep that night; my emotions shifted like a flag tossed in the wind. I’d wanted my daughters to be restored to their father, but now I was troubled by it. Jennifer was just beginning to bond with Carl. Then Bob comes waltzing in at the crisis, sincere at the moment, but would he follow through and hurt her again. What trouble might this stir up?
Jan, I’m in control. Leave the results are up to me.
The next day, Jen twitched a foot and began to emerge from the coma. The doctors shook their heads in amazement. Not only was she not paralyzed, she would recover. "A miracle," they said. Ten days later we transferred her to a rehabilitation hospital.
The doctors said they'd never seen such progress after a brain injury. Jen's fighting spirit played in her favor now, kicking in while she pushed to walk, formulate sentences, even to chew her food again. The staff had never seen such amazing progress.
There was a refreshing softness to my daughter, one I hadn’t seen since she was a child. One day as I sat by her bed and stroked her half-shaved curls, her words touched my heart: “Mom, I never want to fight with you again. I realize how much you love me and want the best for me. I want to learn how to be a better wife and get closer to God"
Three months after the accident, Jennifer walked shakily into her own house, back to Steve and two young sons. Five years later, she’s made almost a full recovery from a severe brain injury. While it’s still a match between her and God as she wrestles with childhood issues, I know who’s going to win.
I look at my daughter differently now. While Jen’s strength and determination were a source of conflict for me, they are gifts from God, and he intends to use them to do great things. My daughter is a precious stone in God’s hand that he is crafting for his glory. And he doesn’t need my help. I’ve given up my advice-giving. I’ve stopped trying to fix her. I seek God’s perspective first. That’s the way to find the purpose in our problems.
(People in our small town still talk about the miracle in the rain, the rescue, the amazing recovery. But to me there is another miracle—having my daughter back as my friend.)
Story first appeared in Virtue Magazine 1999