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Awake to the Fight

This morning I am awoken by the sound of my own sobbing. I dreamed they took my baby girl away. I wake fighting. I am traumatised, not by the accident or the injury but by the atmosphere in ICU. Whispers and screams and moans and death have filled the night and it has sounded like hell in here. Who can bear it?

Kiara, too, has awoken in the midst of a fight. With every passing hour it is dawning on her that she has arrived in the hardest fight of her life.

Her smile is deeply sad today. She has much to mourn; much to think about. From 2am-3:30am this morning, prayer warriors were gathered downstairs and I joined them. We have fought this fight for her in the night. It’s my job to deliver the news of victory to her this morning.

“You’re allowed to feel sad, my darling. Do you have questions? God is protecting you. He is in control.”

I show her the picture painted for her of a dancer in utter surrender. “As you surrender to this situation, God is going to give you back control of your body, of your life. Because of your utter surrender, He is giving you authority.”

“I know this is hard, Kooks, you’ve woken up in the midst of a fight. But you are a warrior, my Keeks, just like your warrior friends downstairs who have been praying for you. You are trained for this, baby girl. You’ve got what it takes. Okay?”

She pulls her mouth up on one side, acknowledging that she knows she can do it, even if she doesn’t want to. I would say she is despondent, but it doesn’t seem to have any effect on her willpower, so that’s the wrong word.

She has a gift for everyone today.

For the O.T. she does a puzzle, 24 pieces with a bit of help. She copies a pattern onto a pegboard. We were praying for pattern recognition to come back last night.

For the physio she sits up in bed, then she swings her feet to the floor and is helped to her feet. “Great!” says the physio. “We’ll walk around the ward tomorrow!”

For the speech and language therapist she swallows water. She is mouthing much better and a few words pop out with a little sound. She is told she can eat, and she has soft foods for lunch and supper.

When no one is around she says a full sentence to me, telling me what she needs and I’m able to help. Wow, that was much easier than playing twenty questions! We share a high-5.

“Little victories, baby, little victories.” By 5pm Daddy is feeding her her third meal and we have ticked off all of our goals for the day. She has swallowed food; she has put her feet on the floor; she has vocalized words. Rich gives her a fist pump, and she closes her eyes. Claiming inheritance is tough girls’ work.

Tonight we pray for sleep. For peace in her mind and silence in the ward.

We pray for neurological pathways to restore in the night.

We pray for our little warrior princess to breathe in courage and breathe out trauma.

We pray for the strength to surrender and the increase of authority.

We praise God that his name is being glorified and pray for Christians everywhere to make the most of fertile ground.

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