God…Which doeth great things and unsearchable; marvellous things without number. Job 5:9

The miracle of a second daughter, Chelsea, was more than Mark and I ever dreamed of. We had tried for 4 years to have children, when we were blessed with Brooke, she lit up our lives and allowed us to understand divine love. Life couldn’t get any better. Our second pregnancy ended in a miscarriage at midnight of September 11, 2001, which we woke, after the long night of sadness, to the news of the horrific terrorist attacks on America. My emotions were high on that early May day of 2003, while cradling my second miracle, Chelsea. She was the best baby a mother could ask for. She never cried, she just laid peacefully in the purple fleece-tied blanket Mark’s cousin had made her. So peaceful that it was a little too peaceful. Babies sleep a lot, but Chelsea slept through all her feedings, and was difficult to wake. She had been jaundiced at birth, but that day she had a very slight gray tint to her. I couldn’t help but worry. I called the OB office, and they assured me that everything was fine, that babies are all different, they each have unique sleep habits and feeding cycles. I was still nervous, so I called my mother, who had 12 of her own, and had seen everything. She confirmed what the OB had told me. However, right before saying goodbye, she told me to pay close attention to my mother instincts. That’s the only thing I heard from either of my calls and I felt that something was wrong. I took Chelsea to the ER. We were first seen by the PA, who after doing the routine check, found nothing wrong with Chelsea. She wanted the doctor to take a second look at her since she was only 10 days old. The ER doctor did the same exam and confirmed that everything appeared fine, but decided to admit her to the hospital to monitor overnight, because she was so young. They put Chelsea in a rolling baby crib and hooked her up to a variety of monitors. I stepped out in the hall to call Mark and let him know the good news that nothing was wrong with Chelsea. As I was talking to Mark, the hospital broke out in a red alert. This sounds like a massive fire alarm, which throws the ER into an all-out frenzy as nurses and doctors run back and forth in a desperate routine to play their part in saving the patient in dire distress. This was my first time experiencing a red alert, it was rather frightening. I couldn’t help but be thankful that my daughter was okay, and at the same time devastated for the family who was suffering. Mark and I stopped our conversation so that we could pray for whomever was in trouble. Just as we finished the prayer, a nurse came around the corner towards me. I didn’t want to be in the way, and I was anxious to get back to Chelsea, so I ended my call with Mark. As I hung up, the nurse came directly to me, put her hands on my shoulder in a comforting manner, looked me straight in the eyes and said, “Don’t worry, it’s your daughter, her heart jumped to 300+ beats a minute and then stopped, she’s in good hands.” Then she hurried off to attend to her responsibilities pertaining to my little baby. I immediately started to bawl, all the emotions of the day started to flood to my mind, and I found myself in deep gratitude to the Lord for making sure I didn’t find any comfort in the experts words, but that I followed through with what the Holy Ghost had told me, and took my baby to the hospital. I realized at that moment, that if I had not brought her to the ER when I did, then her heart would have stopped at home, without anyone to help her. Through my tears I could see Chelsea in a small hole between the shoulders of all the nurses and doctors. She now laid on a gigantic hospital bed, covered in wires, surrounded by doctors. I saw them take the defibrillator and “jump start” her heart. I thought my heart was going to stop, this was more than I could possibly handle. I called Mark back with the changed news, that now our daughter, who 5 minutes ago was fine, was now in heart failure. We had to figure out a plan, we were new to town, and Brooke was two. We had no family and no friends, just a few acquaintances. One of these ladies, whom I had met one time, gave me her number to call if we ever needed anything. I called her. I had to explain who I was, and then explain my situation. She immediately picked up Brooke. Then she took a week vacation from work to watch Brooke while we were in Des Moines with Chelsea. She did all of this for me, someone she met one time. Again my heart was full of gratitude. (Let’s go back to the hospital, because we are still in Pella.) They got Chelsea to the point where she was somewhat stable, but not enough that we could see her, or even get close to her. We still had to find our small pockets of space to peek through shoulders to see our baby lying there lifeless. The plan was to life-flight her to Des Moines where she could be seen by a team of cardiologists. However, we were in the middle of severe thunderstorm that was accompanied by hail, which was to dangerous for a helicopter. Blank Children’s Hospital had to send a cardiologist team down in an ambulance to pick up Chelsea, so the next hour was an intense one for us, as the doctors and nurses attended to Chelsea. When they arrived, they scolded the ER doctor for using a defibrillator on a newborn baby. The doctor told the upset nurse that he had never dealt with a situation like this, and he just followed his instincts. Mark and I were not allowed in the ambulance, so we followed behind, driving at a speed that wasn’t wise considering the weather conditions as well as trying to see through our tears. Once we arrived at the hospital, the cardiologist team of doctors were ready for Chelsea–twice in that first night they had to use a defibrillator to bring Chelsea’s heart back–at which time the specialist explained that the ER doctor saved Chelsea’s life by not attempting to use the other protocol techniques used on newborn babies. Once again, I was filled with gratitude for the Lord’s guidance in Chelsea’s life.  After examining Chelsea’s echocardiogram, the doctors told us that Chelsea had a rare heart condition, (forgive me, I forgot the name), where the heart is surrounded by fatty tissue instead of muscle. They were consulting with a cardiologist in Spain who had treated this condition before. Every day, they took another Echo, and every day the news was the same. Chelsea’s condition was critical, she would remain in the hospital until she was able to have a full heart transplant, probably a year, if she was able to make it that long. Every day was scary, as her heart would race, sometimes stop, alarms would go off, commotion would happen, usually ending in her heart having to be “jump started.” During this time, we also learned that at the ER, with the first heart failure, she had completely stopped breathing. So, at one point, my little baby laid on the table surrounded by strangers, with no heartbeat, or breath. This is the situation we were dealing with daily as we sat with her in the hospital. Every day she lost more weight until she had lost over 3 pounds and was just over 4 pounds. Our town, who didn’t know us, rallied around, with food, prayers, visits, and gifts. Our families were in constant prayer and fasting. My parents and brother were able to make it to Iowa to give us support. While there, they asked if they could give Chelsea a priesthood blessing. Mark suggested that instead we could just stand in a circle, hold hands, and pray for Chelsea. That is what we did. My heart wanted a priesthood blessing for my baby, and yet at the same time, I felt it was crucial to follow Mark’s lead. As we stood and poured out our hearts to our Heavenly Father for Chelsea, I could feel the priesthood power present, and a peace came over me, that allowed me to break free from the despair that I had felt for the last 10 days. I could feel that power of the Atonement, as I trusted the Lord, to know my daughter and to know what was best.

“There is no grief, no pain, no sickness so great that the Atonement of Christ, and the love of Christ cannot heal.” -Ellen Yates 

After being at the hospital two weeks, our cardiologist came in the room, plopped down on the chair, and said, “I am an atheist, but this is a miracle. I have taken an echo every day since Chelsea arrived here and every day her heart looked the same, but today her heart is perfect. Once we get her weight stable, she may go home.” I can’t explain the shock! We had been told every day for two weeks that Chelsea would not be able to go home for a year, and now we were to prepare to take her home? They gave her medicine to prevent her heart from racing, and we were instructed to see the cardiologist every week for a month, and then every month for year.

“It would take a miracle, you say? Well, if it takes a miracle, why not.” -Boyd K Packer

I will never forget walking into the pediatric cardiologist appointment for the first time. It was full of parents and their children, all with heart defects. For one, I never realized how many children have heart defects–all that time in the hospital we felt all alone. The helpless feeling of your daughter not being right is overwhelming and devastating. You would do anything to help them, to fix them. Here sat a room of parents with those same aspirations for their kids, yet their kids weren’t healed. As thankful as I was for Chelsea’s miracle, I couldn’t help but hurt for every parent and every child. Why had my child been the one to be healed? I still wonder that same question, as I have had those close to me suffer from cancer, accidents, and loss. Why aren’t they healed? I don’t have the answers for why things happen to us, or why one may be healed, and others aren’t. I don’t know! But I do know that Chelsea was healed, it was absolutely nothing less than 100% miraculous.

After this, I was having dinner with a friend, and she mentioned that the miracles in the bible are figurative. They are not! They are literal. Jesus Christ healed those who were suffering from different ailments, blindness, deafness, illness, and even raising the dead. These events took place. They still take place today, every day, all around the world. I know this without a doubt because I happen to be one of those households who got to have a literal miracle of healing. Just because we don’t see all the miracle or hear about them, doesn’t mean they aren’t happening on small and simple scales as well as in huge gigantic life-altering scales. I wanted to tell this story as a testimony that Christ lives today as much as he did in the Biblical time. He is present in our lives.

“The Savior knows you and loves you. He knows your name as you know His.” -Henry B. Eyring

I do believe that the parables and miracles of the bible can be applied to our lives in a figurative form as well, as they help us understand that the Lord can heal us spiritually, emotional and mentally as well as physically. He is ever present in our lives, even when we don’t get healing in the way that our hearts desire. We must trust the Lord enough to know that he knows us well enough to know what experiences we need on this earth for our growth and eternal progression. With that trust, we can have peace to endure our trials well, and with patience, even when it is hard. This doesn’t mean that we won’t hit our knees in desperate pleas for the Lord to heal, change, or fix us or those we love. I don’t believe we should ever stop believing in the possibility of complete miracles. While we wait, we need to recognize the miracles that are happening, even if they aren’t complete healing. For example, in Chelsea’s story there were several miracles that proceeded the miracle of healing, all of which I felt where life-altering. I could feel the Lord’s constant presence in the desperate situation as he let me and the doctors know what to do. In addition to the miracle of the guidance of the Holy Ghost, I will NEVER forget the miracle of genuine Christ like love from those who surrounded us even though they barely knew us. It was beautiful! The lady who took care of Brooke has become one of my greatest friends and will always be my example of how to love others. The miracle of the pure love of Christ through others is one of the greatest miracle on earth. I wish the news was full of these stories, so that we could feel the greatest of light and life all around us. So that momentum of life could be who can be the kindest and the most selfless–who could spread the most miracles.

“Where there is great love there is always miracles” -Willa Cather

-Sherri Jorgensen