On
a glorious morning in June of 1999, I was admiring God’s amazing handy work and
daydreaming about the warm summer days ahead. The cold gray winter days had
faded into spring. Spring had brought forth the colors of life and
rebirth. Roses and all the glorious
summer flowers were just bursting into bloom. I was enjoying the fruits of my
labors by sitting in my small patio garden and planning for the summer months
ahead. Pictures of the family gatherings and outdoor summer BBQ’s were dancing
in my head.
The
ringing sound of my telephone would change those thoughts in an instant. Never
in my wildest imaginings, could I have envisioned how very differently that
summer would be. It would begin a family journey of great trials. A journey that would be filled with fear,
heartache, and tears that none of us could have foreseen on that early summer
morn.
As I strolled into the kitchen to quickly
catch the phone call, I had expected a cheery greeting on the other end.
Immediately though, I knew by the sound of my Aunt Dories voice, something was
very much amiss. Her voice was tense from struggling to control her tears. She
quickly explained that her daughter (my cousin Terry) was on the way to a
Trauma hospital. Her sixteen-year-old son Kelly had been in a terrible car
accident. He had flat lined several times on the way to the first hospital they
took him to. Their parish priest had jumped in the ambulance as it sped away. He
had given Kelly the last rites. It was touch and go as to whether Kelly would
survive. With a quick goodbye, we began a summer’s journey, which would take us
over roads we never would have planned to travel. Roads, which would stretch
our faith to the maximum and then some.
In
the days and weeks following the accident, Kelly remained in serious condition.
In July they moved him to the “Children’s Hospital” in Denver, CO. Kelly was
still in coma, but in Denver he was close to a larger part of our extensive
family. Terry’s brothers and sisters all live there. It helped ease the burden
somewhat. Terry and Dwaine (Kelly’s parents) had a large support base to help
out with Kelly’s care and the hospital visits.
Terry’s sister Pam, and her family were a large part of the support team
caring for Kelly. Pam’s little daughter Sadie was the littlest Prayer warrior
for her cousin Kelly. She and Kelly were
very close, and even though Sadie was only six, Kelly had always been her hero.
Through
all the weeks of Kelly’s remaining in coma, Sadie made it her project to pray
to her favorite saint, “St. Theresa the Little Flower.” Sadie was adamant that
Saint Theresa would gain a miracle for Kelly. She knew her cousin would be well
again, because she said; “St Theresa had told her so.” In return, Sadie had
promised God that she too would help the missions, just like Theresa had always
wanted to. We were all amused at her Mission fervor and her faithfulness to
prayer.
Sadie’s
vigilance paid off. In late July, Kelly came out of coma and made remarkable
progress. We were all relieved and elated
of course. As for Sadie, she took it in her usual stride. After all, St.
Theresa had told her it would all be just fine.
In
August, just as things were beginning to look up, another tragedy struck. My
son Randy was in a car accident and also seriously injured. Again our family
circle gathered in prayers and support for one another. Sadie’s “St Theresa”
was our prayer companion as well. Sadie’s beloved Saint Theresa was again
listening to Sadie’s childlike prayer it seemed. The last week of September it
appeared as though our worlds were finally coming back to normal once again.
Kelly was home and in rehab and progressing quite well. Randy was completely
well and life looked wonderful again.
No
one gave much thought to the minor surgery coming up for Sadie. It was just a
routine Tonsillectomy so the family prayer chain just said a little prayer. We
giggled at how Sadie was so brave and said St Theresa was going to make sure
she could eat French Fries when she got home from the hospital. She wasn’t very
happy that she would have to wait several days for the Fries, but she did like
the fact she got ice cream whenever she wanted it. The surgery was on Monday morning and she was
home by that afternoon. Sadie, was just one of those children that nothing seemed
to phase much. She could entertain herself for hours talking to her imaginary
friends, to Saint Theresa and to Jesus.
The
following Friday began with a check-up at the doctor’s office. After that, Pam
and the girls (Sadie and her sister Laney) went shopping. Pam and the girls
kept finding Rose Petals on every aisle they turned into in the store. No one
seemed to know where they came from. Sadie took it in stride as only a six year
old can…She was sure St. Theresa had sent her Rose Petal’s for being such a
good patient and dutifully not eating any French Fries when they had stopped
for lunch before going back home.
Friday
night, the girls played until bedtime in their playroom. Sadie drew pictures
for her Mommy and Daddy. They were the kind of children’s art, which all
parents know are better than any the artist Picasso could ever create. At
bedtime, Glenn and Pam listened to the girls say their nighttime prayers and
everyone dutifully let Sadie say her favorite prayers to Saint Theresa and to
her guardian angel. All in all, the day had been quite ordinary, except for the
mysterious Rose Petals.
At
the time, I was in Marytown, IL at the retreat center. I was on a pilgrimage to
offer our thanksgiving for God’s marvelous mercy and answer to our prayers that
summer. From place to place in my travels I also kept finding mysterious
showers of Rose Petals. On the Feast of St. Theresa, I attended a special
Memorial Mass for her Feast Day. I was in awe that I was the only one allowed
to take a picture of the statue. It is very old and precious, so cameras are
not allowed. As I snapped the picture I found a shower of Rose Petals at my
feet once again. I decided it must be a picture meant for Sadie. St. Theresa
would want me to give it to her I was quite sure.
Just
as I came in the door from the airport on Sunday morning, my husband told me I
needed to call my Aunt Dorie. By the way he quickly turned away with tears in
his eyes, I knew something was very wrong.
With
my heart in my throat, I quickly dialed the number; all the while thinking
Kelly must have had another crisis. Instead, my Aunt delivered the terrible
news that our little prayer warrior Sadie had died. Sadie’s scab had come off
during the night and she had hemorrhaged to death. Pam found her on Saturday
morning, when she went to wake her up for breakfast. Sadie was covered with
blood and so was her room. It appeared she had tried to get out of bed and get
to her parents in her last moments of struggling for life. But the hemorrhage
was so massive; she never made it out of the room.
Through
the days that followed, we all clung to Sadie’s beloved St. Theresa to give us
comfort. Losing a child is a nightmare beyond belief. Losing a child so
unexpectedly has got to be even worse. For the first week Pam and Glenn were
not allowed to make arrangements to bury Sadie. The police cordoned off the
house as though it were a crime scene. It took and autopsy and the doctor’s
surgical records to get the body released for burial. The doctor had
accidentally cut the carotid artery during surgery and lasered it shut, along
with the normal wound of a tonsillectomy. The doctor never mentioned the
mistake that she had made during surgery. A mistake, which would take my family
to our knees once more in prayer. This time the prayer was one of grief with
out the hope of physical healing. They were prayers of anguish and heartbreak.
We had no ability to even ask…”Why God? Why Sadie?” Although I know we all must
have thought it from time to time. Sadie, ever the faithful prayer warrior
would not have been pleased if we had.
As
if to punctuate Sadie’s happiness and trust in God, my Aunt found a seemingly
heaven sent sign, while cleaning up the playroom before the funeral. There on
the play table was Sadie’s last drawing she did of herself. She drew herself
with angel wings. It was covered with those same mysterious Rose Petals and it
was signed; “Sadie – I am so happy. Jesus Loves Me!”
In
the end, we have suffered and we have been blessed. We have grieved and we have
mourned…but we know nonetheless, that Sadie is safe and warm. Sadie is enjoying
the vision only she could see when she gave us the courage of her little
prayers for our family members in need. As Pam and Glenn testified at the
rosary vigil the night before the funeral…”She was ours but for a little while.
God gave her to us on loan. He gave us a beautiful child to return to Him as a
saint, when she was finished with her mission. The mission she accomplished
much too soon for any of us. We are now the family of a Saint.” For this we shall all continue to “Thank
God.” Sadie’s mission in this life has blessed us all.
copyrighted 2006
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