A cold March wind danced around the dead night in Dallas as the
doctor walked into the small hospital room of
Diana Blessing. She was still groggy from surgery. Her husband,
David, held her hand as they braced themselves
for the latest news.
That afternoon of March 10, 1991, complications had forced Diana,
only 24 weeks pregnant, to undergo an emergency
Cesarean to deliver the couple's new daughter, Dana Lu Blessing.
At 12 inches long and weighing only one pound nine ounces, they
already knew she was perilously premature.
Still, the doctor's soft words dropped like bombs.
"I don't think she's going to make it," he said, as kindly as he could.
"There's only a 10-percent chance she will live through the night,
and even then, if by some slim chance she does make
it, her future could be a very cruel one."
Numb with disbelief, David and Diana listened as the doctor described
the devastating problems Dana would likely face
if she survived.
She would never walk, she would never talk, she would probably be blind, and she would certainly be prone to other catastrophic conditions from cerebral palsy to complete mental retardation, and on and on.
"No! No!" was all Diana could say.
She and David, with their 5-year-old son Dustin, had long dreamed
of the day they would have a daughter to become a
family of four. Now, within a matter of hours, that dream was
slipping away.
But as those first days passed, a new agony set in for David and Diana.
Because Dana's underdeveloped nervous system was essentially 'raw', the lightest kiss or caress only intensified her discomfort, so they couldn't even cradle their tiny baby girl against their chests to offer the strength of their love. All they could do, as Dana struggled alone beneath the ultraviolet light in the tangle of tubes and wires, was to pray that God would stay close to their precious little girl.
There was never a moment when Dana suddenly grew stronger. But
as the weeks went by, she did slowly gain an ounce of
weight here and an ounce of strength there.
At last, when Dana turned two months old, her parents were able
to hold her in their arms for the very first time. And
two months later, though doctors continued to gently but grimly
warn that her chances of surviving, much less living
any kind of normal life, were next to zero, Dana went home from
the hospital, just as her mother had predicted.
Five years later, Dana was a petite but feisty young girl with
glittering gray eyes and an unquenchable zest for
life. She showed no signs whatsoever of any mental or physical
impairment. Simply, she was everything a little
girl can be and more. But that happy ending is far from the end
of her story.
One blistering afternoon in the summer of 1996 near her home in
Irving, Texas, Dana was sitting in her mother's lap
in the bleachers of a local ball park where her brother Dustin's
baseball team was practicing.
As always, Dana was chattering nonstop with her mother and several
other adults sitting nearby when she suddenly fell
silent
Hugging her arms across her chest, little Dana asked, "Do you smell that?"
Smelling the air and detecting the approach of a thunderstorm, Diana replied, "Yes, it smells like rain."
Dana closed her eyes and again asked, "Do you smell that?"
Once again, her mother replied, "Yes, I think we're about to get wet. It smells like rain."
Still caught in the moment, Dana shook her head, patted her thin shoulders with her small hands and loudly announced,
"No, it smells like Him. It smells like God when you lay your head on His chest."
Tears blurred Diana's eyes as Dana happily hopped down to play with the other children.
Before the rains came, her daughter's words confirmed what Diana
and all the members of the extended Blessing family
had known, at least in their hearts, all along.
During those long days and nights of her first two months of her
life, when her nerves were too sensitive for them to
touch her, God was holding Dana on His chest and it is His loving
scent that she remembers so well.
Sent by Leonard B Bolden Jr <lboldenjr@sbcglobal.net>