The Boy Who Came Back From Heaven Part 6

Beth and I tried to keep seeing the forest and not just the trees. That is, we knew that the big picture was all about G.o.d's doing something that couldn't be explained by human means. We were ready to care for our boy in a permanent coma if it came to that, but we didn't believe this was how the story would end. So we asked all our friends and the outstanding Alex's Army to join us in pet.i.tioning the Lord. We pleaded with Him to intervene once more in our son's medical condition. Our long-term goal was to have Alex at home with us, where he belonged. A date was set, and we called on our army of prayer warriors once again.

There was a certain amount of skepticism floating around concerning this strategy. Some felt that caring for him at home would never work. One nurse, for example, told us, "I can take care of him in a hospital like this one, but I don't think I could handle it in a house." She and others believed that a nursing home was the answer. Nursing homes are viable solutions for others-but we wanted our son to be in his own bed, under our roof. We couldn't imagine any other outcome.

We knew things would be difficult, and we believed we were ready for that reality.

Breakthrough One morning the phone rang, and that cheerful voice I knew so well greeted me.

"Kevin!" It was my dad.

"Hey, Dad, what's up?"

"Kevin, he's on his way back! He's on his way back!"

"What do you mean?"

"I went to see Alex this morning, and he followed my wedding ring with his eyes-he was tracking tracking!"

My heart beat wildly, and I wasted no time in getting to the hospital. It wasn't the first time I'd heard hopeful observations about Alex-people tended to see, or think they saw, facial expressions. Some were certain he had moved a hand or a toe. There are times when we're so eager, we see what we want to see.

But these words were coming from my dad, Dr. William Malarkey, distinguished physician. He knew what to look for, and he didn't deal in manufactured hope. He had never once made such a declaration. His excitement got me excited.

I still think of January 8 as the day my son emerged from his coma, but it wasn't that cut-and-dried. He didn't wake up suddenly, as if from a nap. He'd been gone for nearly two months. He had disappeared from us in an instant, but his return to the Alex we knew would take much longer, given the damage to his spine and his head. The doctors were very skeptical about any future abilities he might have, or even his ability to think. But from this day onward, our Alex began his long journey home. It was as if the light of his mind was being turned on with a slow dimmer switch. Every day brought Alex another step back into our world.

I was ready to celebrate when the hospital agreed to admit Alex to rehab. My prayer had been answered, and it didn't matter how unlikely it might have seemed to others-G.o.d had come through. Now Alex could begin to work with the rehab a.s.sistants, and that would make all the difference. I felt that I knew how much strength and determination was inside Alex, and again I was certain that rehab was going to be a smashing success. The rehab doctors were now in charge, but we considered the Great Physician to be the one with the ultimate prognosis.

Alex's Army rejoiced with us as we shared all these new developments with our community at PrayforAlex.com. And the Army kept praying.

Slaphappy Even with the thrilling signs that Alex was coming back, he was still in a thick fog. Some days it seemed he was charging ahead; other days made us feel we had lost ground. We tried absolutely everything we could think of to shine our light through that fog and guide him home. Everyone who came into the room had his or her own little act to spark Alex's awareness. People told jokes, made funny faces, made body noises (real and simulated), and even lightly tickled a body that we were a.s.sured had no feeling.

Where are you, Alex? We prayed, we spoke positively, and we truly believed ... most of the time. When my moments of doubt emerged, I carefully hid them. No one could really measure the impact of the severe damage to his brain and spinal cord. Mental, physical, and emotional functioning might be intact-medically speaking-or it might be destroyed forever. We simply couldn't know. We prayed, we spoke positively, and we truly believed ... most of the time. When my moments of doubt emerged, I carefully hid them. No one could really measure the impact of the severe damage to his brain and spinal cord. Mental, physical, and emotional functioning might be intact-medically speaking-or it might be destroyed forever. We simply couldn't know.

When I thought about that, fear gripped me. It wasn't about paralysis or his breathing on a ventilator. I could handle any of that. What terrified me was the idea of never getting my son back. I had moments when I would have paid any conceivable price just to talk to my Alex. So I kept up my one-sided conversations, just as if we were having the talks we'd always had. Everyone else made funny faces, performed silly dances, and tried any wild strategy to pull him out of the mist. At this point, nothing looked unusual in that room-people had tried everything but standing on their heads.

Maybe brothers close in age are the ones who know best how to make each other laugh. It was Aaron who finally made it happen.

Aaron came up with his own idea about how to spark Alex's attention. Aaron put his face near Alex's and then gave his own face a hard smack! smack! Aaron then repeatedly smacked his own face. Something about Aaron's monkey business got through, and after a few more slaps, a genuine smile broke out across Alex's face. I'd never seen anything so beautiful, even if it took Aaron slapping himself to bring it on. Aaron kept slapping his cheeks, and Alex's smile kept growing. This was no muscular reflex-it was a Aaron then repeatedly smacked his own face. Something about Aaron's monkey business got through, and after a few more slaps, a genuine smile broke out across Alex's face. I'd never seen anything so beautiful, even if it took Aaron slapping himself to bring it on. Aaron kept slapping his cheeks, and Alex's smile kept growing. This was no muscular reflex-it was a grin grin. Everyone present could see it, and the whole room let out a spontaneous victory cheer. Aaron was very pleased with his success and redoubled his efforts, slapping himself even more vigorously. I then stepped in and prevented Aaron from doing further damage to his handsome face. He'd done a great job, and it was time to give his facial tissue a break!

From this point onward, Alex never completely vanished back into the fog. He had an awareness of the room and the people in it, and he clearly knew when we were talking to him.

I wrote a poem at the time to express the power of G.o.d we felt was at work in Alex: Alex cannot walkJesus walked on waterAlex cannot talkG.o.d spoke the universe into existenceAlex cannot breatheThe Holy Spirit is the breath of lifeTherefore . . .I will not look to the worldBut to the WORDI will not look to my sonBut to my FATHERI will not see with my eyesBut with my HEARTI will not fall victimTo the prison of circ.u.mstanceI will worship my G.o.dAnd abide in his hopeLet it be...

Going to Work Now the rehab therapists had something to work with, and they began interacting with Alex in various ways.

"Alex," the speech therapist asked, "can you tell me how old you are?"

We all watched with great antic.i.p.ation, but I had an extra level of intensity waiting for his reply. By this point, my one obsession was to ask Alex to forgive me for what I had done. The moment I desired more than any other was within reach. But then smiles began to fade as we looked from Alex to the therapist. Alex only stared ahead.

"Alex," continued the therapist, "do you know how old you are? What is your age?"

Alex didn't respond. The more the therapist questioned him, the more a confused expression etched its way across his brow. My eyes darted between Alex and the therapist. What could all this mean? Discreetly we were summoned out of the room, and the therapist offered her thoughts.

"We want to be careful about broad p.r.o.nouncements in cases like these, but we also want to be realistic about where we are. The reality of this situation may be not only that Alex didn't respond-that he didn't know the answer to the question-but that he can't can't respond." respond."

Can't respond? my mind screamed in fear. my mind screamed in fear. No! No! Up to this point, there was never a doubt in my mind that Alex would come back and be our Alex. I had never antic.i.p.ated the idea, even for a moment, that Alex might have severe brain damage. Of course Alex would come back and we could have that one conversation I had agonized over a thousand times-the one question I so desperately longed to ask: "Alex, would you please forgive me?" Up to this point, there was never a doubt in my mind that Alex would come back and be our Alex. I had never antic.i.p.ated the idea, even for a moment, that Alex might have severe brain damage. Of course Alex would come back and we could have that one conversation I had agonized over a thousand times-the one question I so desperately longed to ask: "Alex, would you please forgive me?"

For the first time, I came face-to-face with the prospect that I might never have the chance to receive his forgiveness-that Alex might have slipped away from us forever. Reeling from this new possibility, my body sank back into the chair, visibly defeated. But the chair could not stop my mind's cascading into a black abyss-my lowest point since this nightmare began.

It was this day, of all that followed the accident, that I gave in to my deepest fears. I embraced the apparent failure of the moment and allowed it to define the future. In so doing, I allowed myself to become devastated. With this latest report from the therapist, everything had taken on a darkened hue. I cried as much that day as I had on the day of the accident. Alex couldn't move, couldn't breathe on his own, couldn't speak, and couldn't swallow. If he couldn't think and understand, then in what sense was he really Alex?

Where had my faith gone? Why did I embrace doubt after so many victories? I guess I am a lot like Peter when Jesus told him to get out of the boat and walk on water, confident in Jesus one moment and focused on the waves-and sinking-the next. But even though I was giving the Giant Despair a temporary free pa.s.s in my mind, no one was giving up, including me.

The therapists were wonderful, soldiering on despite these setbacks. The speech therapist was particularly tenacious and gave me a lot of encouragement. Not too long after the negative news, she helped Alex develop three facial movements that gave us true hope. He could move the corner of his mouth on the right side of his face. We were able to establish with him that this expression meant the word yes yes. Puckered lips, we agreed with Alex, meant the word no no. Alex's all-time favorite expression, however, was rolling his eyes, which took on a variety of meanings, depending on context. For example: I don't know.

Your questions are bugging me.

My dad is a nut job.

And just about anything else from the ma.s.sive realm of possibilities between yes and no.

Mirror Motivation

+ + +Alex continues to become more aware.Each of the therapists is noting his daily progression.He drew a picture of an umbrella today (with help), and he is moving his eyes to "yes" and "no" cards as a foundation for his communication skills.Beth is learning to cath him, clean his G-tube, and work on the vent.My training begins Thursday a.m. at 9:00....We believe now that Alex can handle whoever wants to come to his room, so feel free to visit. Let's just try not to have too many people in the room at the same time so that he is not overwhelmed. Please remember that children are allowed to visit.We heard from our pastor that electricity is back on and that the leak on our roof seems reasonably well maintained. I will go out to the house late tonight to make sure everything is ready for our family's return. Beth has some concerns about the stability of the roof. Please pray for wise decision making and safety for our family as we try to return home.Leaving Alex's room is very difficult when he is awake now because he clearly understands that we are leaving him. . . . Alex, Beth, and I all cried tonight as we tried to learn to help Alex feel peaceful about his situation. What a blessing it is though that he is taking in, processing, and feeling again.Thank you, G.o.d, for Your miraculous healing in our son.

PrayforAlex.com post by Kevin Malarkey on January 12, 2005

The growth of Alex's hair was keeping pace with the length of his hospital stay, so a friend of ours came down to give him a haircut. Out of this most simple procedure, we learned something new about Alex. As the barber was working away, we suddenly realized that Alex had caught sight of himself in the mirror. This was the first time he'd seen himself since coming back to consciousness. Upon catching his image in the mirror, Alex immediately began attempting to make his facial muscles do what his mind wanted.

Alex stared intently into the mirror, doing battle with the recalcitrant muscles, his face twitching and eyes burning with determination. I watched quietly, but in my heart I was on the sidelines of this immense struggle jumping up and down, screaming at the top of my lungs, Go Alex! Go Alex! Go Alex! Go Alex!

This was the Alex I knew, the fighter, the child showing the initiative to take the tools he had and perfect his use of them. He was fighting for all he was worth with everything he had. He wasn't just lying there, giving up because of the obstacles he faced. He was being proactive, refusing to give in. I may have been quietly holding a mirror while sitting on the edge of his bed, but inside I was high-fiving everyone in the stadium: was the Alex I knew, the fighter, the child showing the initiative to take the tools he had and perfect his use of them. He was fighting for all he was worth with everything he had. He wasn't just lying there, giving up because of the obstacles he faced. He was being proactive, refusing to give in. I may have been quietly holding a mirror while sitting on the edge of his bed, but inside I was high-fiving everyone in the stadium: Did you see that play? That's my son Alex. He's a winner! Did you see that play? That's my son Alex. He's a winner!

For two hours I held the mirror while Alex practiced all his moves-moving the corner of his mouth, puckering his lips, and rolling his eyes.

I sat watching, in awe of his determination, beaming with pride. There could be no mistake about it now. Alex, the one and only Alex we loved, was in there fighting to get out. Every doctor knows how imperative the will to fight is. Lose that, and it's all over. Several times we had asked ourselves if Alex possessed that vital drive. Now we had our answer, and it filled us with renewed energy to keep our minds and hearts in the game.

Before this moment, I hadn't realized how low my spirits had become. But no sooner did I watch my young warrior doing battle than the fight came back into me, too. In that incredible moment, my son became my hero and my inspiration. I was and am his father and mentor, but in that instant our relationship changed forever. It was then that I had the first inkling that Alex had a lot to teach me about courage, determination, and keeping up the fighting spirit.

Week by week Alex's command of his facial muscles grew. One of the early exercises was for him to blow into a straw. The therapist would attach the straw to a device that would move a small ball about twelve inches up a tube, toppling it to the ground. To help motivate Alex to keep at it, we put a little medicine cup of water on the top of the device and then asked for "volunteers" to put their heads near enough so that when Alex blew hard enough to topple the cup, the volunteer would be splashed with water. Watching that happen was all the encouragement Alex needed; soon he was blowing that straw for all he was worth.

Alex didn't remain satisfied with his progress for very long. He wasn't content to limit his ability to communicate to facial expressions. Now that this battle was won, the battle to push actual words out of his mouth was just beginning. People who sustain severe brain injuries must often learn to speak all over again. Alex was up for the challenge.

Starting from somewhere in his throat, each sound would make the torturous journey over his tongue and out his mouth. In the beginning, they were mostly earnest, garbled noises. He would work the sounds from throat and mouth the best he could, and we would spend the next five or ten minutes trying to decipher their meaning. Alex would then give the signal for no no until we got it right. We were like linguists establishing the basis for communication in an unknown tongue. It was like mining for precious gems, and we rejoiced over every single word. until we got it right. We were like linguists establishing the basis for communication in an unknown tongue. It was like mining for precious gems, and we rejoiced over every single word.

+ + +Alex continues to work hard in his therapy. The speech therapist is working on strengthening the muscles in his face, getting Alex to communicate with his eyes using cards and objects. . . . Alex continues to push out sounds, but they are difficult to understand.He was able to increase his volume a bit when asked to by the speech therapist.In all honesty, all three of us in the room thought that the word Alex was trying to say was Jesus Jesus.I had a difficult time yesterday as I had conflicting emotions watching Alex. Everything he is doing is literally a miracle.He is much more aware, and he is trying so hard. At the same time, it is hard to believe that my brilliant little boy is struggling so hard to make a sound. I have wept on a couple of occasions as I see his pain and frustration. Strangely as it often is in life, progress leads to a more difficult and intense level of struggle.

PrayforAlex.com post by Kevin Malarkey on January 15, 2005

As with anything worthwhile, the real work started after the fun of the new enterprise had worn off. As Alex tried to form words, we were both thrilled and frustrated. We wanted so badly to have a normal conversation with him, and he was working tirelessly to make that happen. We simply had to hang in there with him until we could figure out what it was he was trying to say. It could be frustrating for him, too, but Alex had nearly miraculous patience and determination. Even a six-year-old has complex thoughts, feelings, and reactions to share, and we wondered what was within him that might run deeper than a simple yes or no.

We all needed perseverance. In the middle of this effort, Beth came up with a brilliant idea that I, the psychotherapist of the household, could only admire. She proclaimed a rule against Alex's trying to communicate about anything he couldn't couldn't do. We would follow along and figure out what he was saying, but if we determined he was talking about an inability, we stopped and asked him to name three abilities. It was a page straight from my father's philosophy, and it set the tone for the kind of positive emotional att.i.tude that Alex already had but vitally needed to maintain. do. We would follow along and figure out what he was saying, but if we determined he was talking about an inability, we stopped and asked him to name three abilities. It was a page straight from my father's philosophy, and it set the tone for the kind of positive emotional att.i.tude that Alex already had but vitally needed to maintain.

For so many months Alex hadn't seemed to know or care whether we were present. Now when we left the room, he would become visibly upset and had a whole a.r.s.enal of protest expressions at his disposal. We all need to be needed. Maybe that's why I loved that Alex would become upset when we stepped out of the room. After not knowing if he would ever come back, it was comforting that when he did, he needed me.

Angels in Rehab What a joyous development it was when Alex came out of his coma, when he came back to us-a direct answer to the prayer of thousands, a direct blessing to his dad and mom. I was still riding high from this momentous occasion about two weeks later when I went to visit him one night. Arriving in his room, I found that Margaret, a new acquaintance from a local church, was there, having signed up on the prayer schedule.

+ + +Alex . . . demonstrated some skills that he has not mastered prior to today. He opened his mouth on command, he stuck out his tongue on command, he used his chin to press a lever and perform a task. He also demonstrated some connections between his cognitions, his emotions, and his physical movements.The lack of the presence of most of these skills was discussed at a meeting [yesterday]. It seems that when medical staff meet and discuss what Alex cannot do, G.o.d likes to show up the next day and mix things up a bit. I have been concerned about Alex's motivational level, and he now has shown us that he can be highly motivated (he used his chin to move a lever that moved a toy for at least ten minutes). Ihave watched him struggle to use muscles in the right side of his face, and he used these muscles perfectly as he had his "smiling face" on for at least five to ten minutes. He has now demonstrated a full range of emotions.G.o.d is waking up our son more each day, and Alex is responding like a warrior (David). He has been strong and courageous like Joshua. Most of all, though, he has been blessed by a loving G.o.d. We still wait for G.o.d to breathe breath back into Alex so that he may get rid of the ventilator. I still believe that this will happen soon.Thank you for your prayers.Please continue to pray for us that we may honor G.o.d and conform to His character.

PrayforAlex.com post by Kevin Malarkey on January 20, 2005

Perhaps he was tired, perhaps discouraged-whatever the reason, Alex didn't want to answer the litany of yes/no questions that had become the centerpiece of our interaction in those two weeks since he had regained consciousness. Margaret and I started talking about various aspects of the new reality, Alex conscious and interacting with us. These were such exciting times, filled with new hope.

Margaret happened to be talking when suddenly Alex's countenance dramatically changed. His mouth opened wider than I had ever seen it, and it remained open, something that had never happened before. At first, Alex stared straight up at the ceiling of his room, but then his eyes began darting round the room. He didn't look at Margaret or me again, which was highly unusual. When I would enter Alex's room, his eyes were normally fixed directly on me 90 percent of the time. This night was different. For the next two hours Alex looked at me only about 20 percent of the time. Something strange was happening.

I began asking Alex a series of questions, desperately attempting to figure out what was going on. It was exhausting. I asked him every question I could think of-at least a hundred. Just when I could think of nothing else to ask, it dawned on me: we might not be alone. After all, angels had visited before, when Alex's neck was healed.

"Alex, are there angels in the room here with us? Show me with your eyes."

An even bigger smile broke out across Alex's face as he looked at Margaret. When he smiled big, I knew the answer to my question was yes, but when he looked at Margaret, I was a little confused.

"Is Margaret an angel?"

Alex puckered his lips to indicate no.

"Okay, Alex, is the angel behind behind Margaret?" Margaret?"

Alex curled the corner of his mouth to say yes.

At first, Alex indicated that there were many angels in the room, but then most of them left until only three remained. To find out how many angels were present, I would offer numbers until I got a yes. Then things changed again. It seemed that Alex was trying to talk. We watched with great intensity as Alex struggled to form a word. Following an immense effort that visibly marshaled every fiber of his will, Alex said, "Mom"! Then, as if to ensure that the word wouldn't escape, he began to say it over and over again. My heart couldn't contain the joy of that moment of triumph. I had cried a lot up to this point, but I liked these tears much better.

+ + +I told Kevin that had I not been there, but had just been reading the post, I probably would have doubted what had happened-not Kevin's honesty, but just maybe he was being a little too hopeful. Please understand when you read this that I'm someone who has to have things really proved to me. Iprobably would have stood behind Thomas for my turn to touch Jesus' nail-scarred hand.I have been a Christian for thirty-two years, and I've never experienced what I experienced [that] night. For the first forty-five minutes Kevin was there he had Alex's undivided attention-which I understand is usual. Once Alex began to open his mouth wide and look around, the only time he focused on his dad was when we asked questions. Everything you've read in the two angels' messages happened, but I wish everyone reading this could have seen Alex's face. He was trulyradiant.

Margaret Mokry

Wait till I tell Beth, I thought. Then Alex moved his mouth to say another word. Now he was trying to say "Dad," but the d d sound requires the tongue, an oral maneuver that was yet too difficult for him. But it was a great triumph nonetheless. Alex glowed while he talked about the angels, his yes answers indicated by huge smiles rather than moving the corner of his mouth like he normally did. sound requires the tongue, an oral maneuver that was yet too difficult for him. But it was a great triumph nonetheless. Alex glowed while he talked about the angels, his yes answers indicated by huge smiles rather than moving the corner of his mouth like he normally did.

Alex saying his first word-was this why Alex's angels came? I believe it was. Does this sound strange? If it is hard for you to read this and believe, you should try typing it. Imagine how I feel. I come from a conservative evangelical context. These events are not part of my experience or background, but I can't deny or ignore that they took place.

I never saw an angel, but without the slightest doubt or hesitation, I am certain that I watched my child interacting with them. Margaret shares this conviction. It may sound crazy, but it did happen. I'll leave the explanations to the theologians.

From AlexAngels Helping MeI trust him with all my heart. He helps me, and my heart is filled with joy. I burst out in songs of thanksgiving. Psalm 28:7 Psalm 28:7I had seen a lot of angels in Heaven, but that was when I wasn't in my body.After two months I finally came out of my coma, but I couldn't talk. I knew what I wanted to say, but I couldn't say it. That was really hard. I could pucker my lips to say no and curl the corner of my mouth to say yes. I could also roll my eyes, which meant "I don't know." But that was all. I could pucker my lips to say no and curl the corner of my mouth to say yes. I could also roll my eyes, which meant "I don't know." But that was all.One night about two weeks after I came out of my coma, Daddy and another friend named Margaret were with me. Iwas tired and didn't feel like trying to answer questions, so Daddy and Margaret were just talking to each other.Then something happened. I saw angels in my room. They were everywhere. That made me have a really huge smile. I never keep my mouth open for very long, but now I couldn't shut it.I was so happy that the angels came, but there were so many of them, I was a little scared, too. Daddy had never seen me smile like that, and he tried to figure out what I was doing.Daddy started asking me a whole lot of questions to try to understand. It took a long time, but finally Daddy said, "Alex, do you see angels?" I smiled even bigger, and then Daddy and Margaret knew there were angels in my room.I couldn't stop looking at them. Then the angels started to help me.Some of the angels put their hands on my chest and were helping me breathe. Other angels started to help me talk. I started to try to make words with my mouth and all of a sudden, I said "Mom." When that word came out, I was very happy and said it over and over. I then tried to form the word Daddy Daddy, but I couldn't make the word come out.The angels could hear me talk, and they talked to me, encouraging me.

Chapter 7

Homecomings

"Do you think I should turn this car around and lead the ambulance right back where we came from? Are we making a huge mistake?"

It had been several months since Columbus Children's had become our home away from home. The ministry of G.o.d's people had kept our lives from completely unraveling, and we were deeply grateful. But by this time, home was where we needed to be. The prospect of taking Alex home required three things. He had to be stable and strong; Beth and I had to be ready (knowledgeable enough) to care for him; and our house had to be ready to shelterus.

I continued to believe that Alex would breathe on his own before he left that hospital. It didn't happen. A new trach tube helped with the discomfort Alex was feeling with the breathing equipment, but he really wanted to be free of it. He was also becoming stiff and needed stretching to keep his body limber.

Throughout all this, Alex never lost his sense of humor, which he had brought with him out of his coma. He playfully dubbed one of his a.s.sistants "Jane the Pain."

Angels, he a.s.sured us, continued to come and go. When the pastor was there praying for him, for example, four were present, though only Alex could see or hear them. (Miles away, we had eight angels of our own up on the roof of our house, but they were the visible and noisy type. We were grateful for their "surgery" on our ailing home.) After months of living half our lives in the hospital and trying to get everything else done in a parallel universe, Beth and I were wearing down, and our relationship had developed some rough edges. There were many times I wished I could take back sharp words and bad att.i.tudes. I know Beth felt the same. The truth is, at times we exhibited our worst sides to each other, often in earshot of others. We aren't proud of our behavior, but an honest account of these times mustn't gloss over the trauma our marriage sustained in the midst of everything else. There were too many demands: caring for Alex, supplying love and physical needs for three other children, getting our house repaired, resuming my business-we knew we couldn't maintain such a schedule forever. Several times we recommitted ourselves to supporting and leaning on each other, getting enough sleep, and depending upon the prayers of our many supporters.

Stressed but Blessed In the last days at Children's Hospital, tensions heightened. Sleep was evasive. We were given a crash course in caring for our son, a quadriplegic on a respirator, and felt inadequately prepared for the challenge. These desperate hours pushed us to the limit and, again, we failed to live up to our ideals of what a Christian marriage should be. Not to make excuses for our sin. But in retrospect we believe we took on too much too soon.

+ + +There have been nights and weeks and days when my bodywas so spent I did not know how I could function, move, orbreathe. There have been a.s.saults to my character, my spirituality, my relationship with Jesus. There has been nothing spared to try to stop me. The cool thing is, not onlydid G.o.d give me a compa.s.sionate heart so that I hurt when other people hurt, but He also gave me stubbornness-inagood way. He knows I will not stop.I tell people, "I wish I could take credit for some of this, but I can't." I can only explain it as Him. I recognize His supernatural strength, wisdom, knowledge, and understanding all the time. I have learned to cling to theSavior.

Beth Malarkey, Alex's mom