My son Jake was an adorable, accommodating baby, the perfect second child. So when his contentment caved into constant crying, we knew there had to be something wrong. A trip to the pediatrician revealed a nasty double ear infection. One round of antibiotics led to two, then three, but the infection persisted. In the midst of trying to find relief for our poor baby, we were scheduled to make a cross-country move.
Once we arrived in our new home, we set out to find a new pediatrician. Our new doctor was no nonsense. After examining Jake’s ears, he made it very clear that Jacob would continue to suffer unless we allowed him to put tubes in our baby boy’s ears. He added a sober warning that without tubes Jacob’s hearing could be severely compromised.
Our thorough doctor carefully explained the surgery where he would place tiny tubes in the eardrums to regulate pressure in the middle ear. I am not a doctor so his description of the surgical procedure escaped me. It was what he described next that captured my worried mind. Along with the sedation process for an infant, he went on to explain that once the tubes were in place, Jacob could not get his ears wet in a swimming pool or even in a bathtub.
All I could focus on was how daunting this all was for a six-month-old baby, but the most daunting challenge was that it would cost $800 out-of-pocket. The doctor may as well have said that the cost was $8000 or $80,000. The amount was more than we could come up with at that point. We had just moved across country so my husband could pursue a livelihood singing gospel music. The move took nearly all the money we had, and he hadn’t had time to schedule many paying events.
We left the doctor’s office on Thursday with a scheduled surgery for our precious boy the following Tuesday. Our only option was to call my husband’s parents and ask to borrow the money. They graciously agreed to loan it to us, but we were questioning how we could possibly come up with the money to pay them back.
The next morning, my husband had the opportunity to play and sing for a breakfast gathering for several churches in the area. After his performance, people shared prayer requests around the room. Bruce told the group about our baby and the surgery he was facing. One of the ladies in the room approached my husband after the meeting and encouraged him to pray, in earnest for Jacob. “We have not because we ask not,” she insisted. “Go home and pray for your boy as often a you think about it. Ask God for a healing and don’t give up!”
I had to admit; it was hard for me to muster faith because up until that point I had not witnessed a miracle up close. I had heard about miracles and I believed in the possibility, but it felt too presumptuous to ask that for myself. This was my baby, and so when Bruce shared this wise woman’s words, I made every effort combat by doubt and pray anyway.
That weekend any time Bruce passed by Jake in his crib, his walker, or my lap, he put his hand on his son and prayed, sometimes out-loud, other times quietly to himself. He didn’t have to be looking at his adorable bundle to pray, although it offered a welcome reminder. Bruce asked God nearly every minute for healing for Jacob.
On Monday, Jacob was scheduled for a pre-op for his surgery the next morning. After the nurses checked all of Jake’s vital signs, the doctor came in with a few more last-minute instructions and decided to inspect his ears just before leaving the room. He looked in Jake’s left ear, shook his head, pulled out his instrument to wipe it off and looked again. With a puzzled expression on his face, he turned my little one’s head to look in his other ear, and did the same thing. “I can’t explain this,” said the baffled doctor. “Your son shows no sign of infection in either ear. I don’t even see signs that that he has ever had any ear infections.” My husband quickly spoke up and said, “I can explain it. We prayed for healing and we got it.” The good doctor wasn’t so sure about my husband’s explanation. All he could muster was, “Well, I won’t need to see Jake tomorrow. That’s for sure.”
Despite the doctor’s predictions, Jacob didn’t get the surgery and he didn’t suffer from any hearing loss. He can hear every sound, without even the slightest loss of decibel or pitch. That is a good thing because we didn’t know at the time our son would grow up to write songs for documentaries and movie trailers and to play worship on Easter Sunday to over 4500 people at Mariners Church in Orange County
Despite my faithless fear, God provided miracle anyway. The dear lady at that breakfast meeting was at the right place at the right time when she told us to pray for a miracle and not give up. That turned out to be some very sound advice.