Written by Susannah Bates
The time is now.
Annabel heard The Voice in her heart. Instantly she began to kick and push with all her might. She struggled and struggled. Finally, she plunged from one world to another. Annabel opened her eyes. She stared at the woman who was holding her so close. So much love radiated from this woman.
Mother.
The Voice said within her heart. Pressed against her mother she felt the same steady rhythm she had known in the other world, though not so clear as it had been inside.
Father.
Again, the rhythm changed; a heart bursting with love.
Sister.
I stared down at the fragile life I held in my hands. My sister, almost. I studied her tiny toes, her fingers, her mouth, her bulging eyes. Slowly my eyes moved over her head. I forced myself to look at the gaping wound where her brain should have been. Gruesome and heartbreaking. She was beautiful. Annabel.
She took a deep gasping breath. I jumped, causing everyone around me to laugh. I looked around the dull hospital room, already filled with flowers. By all regular conventions there were two separate unrelated families there – Annabel’s and mine. But we considered ourselves one family, and I loved Annabel as my own sister. We prayed. We didn’t plead or command God to heal Annabel. We simply thanked God for Annabel and told Him that we would trust Him whether Annabel lived or died.
Annabel was cold and exhausted.
Not long now, my child.
The Voice held such tenderness, she was warmed, inside and out.
Not long.
The room was filled with people who loved her with their whole hearts, yet this paled compared to what she felt in her heart from The Voice. Annabel breathed another laboured, gasping breath.
I am waiting for you, Annabel.
The Voice lovingly called to her. She was so cold.
Exhausted.
Don’t be afraid, I love you.
So tired. Annabel closed her eyes.
The nurse came to dress Annabel. She took her and lay her on the table. The nurse had a strange look on her face.
“When did she last take a breath?” she asked apprehensively.
The simple question caused a sudden tension in the room.
“Not long before you came in,” replied her mother hesitantly.
The nurse took a small stethoscope and listened for a heartbeat. There was absolute silence; time dragged on and on. Sadly, softly, the nurse muttered to herself, “No…” She moved the stethoscope slightly and listened again. Finally she removed the stethoscope and said, quietly, finally, “No, there’s nothing there. She’s gone.”
Everyone accepted the news with an air of calmness. It was not unexpected. The doctor came in. With a look of despair and hopelessness on his face, he pronounced her dead. The nurse asked if they still wanted her to put the dress on. I felt disturbed watching as she dressed this lifeless shell, like a doll; it seemed wrong to me.
Annabel opened her eyes. She was surrounded by such beauty that she felt she could burst. The colours before her were brighter than the sun. She saw Someone coming towards her with arms open wide.
I picked Annabel’s five-year-old sister, Bethany, up from school and took her to the hospital. She ran inside, pleased to see everyone, especially her new baby sister.
“My baby!” squealed Bethany with delight. “Can I hold her?”
“Of course you can.”
Everyone looked on as Bethany smiled at the bundle she held in her arms. “When can we take her home, Mummy?”
“We can’t, darling, she has to stay at the hospital.”
“Why?”
Once again the room was still as her mother softly replied, “She’s gone to be with Jesus.”
******
I couldn’t sleep that night. I lay in bed with thoughts swirling through my head like a boat caught in a storm. I grabbed my Bible and read the familiar verse, Matthew 19:14:
“Jesus said, ‘Let the children come to me, and don’t try to stop them! People who are like these children belong to God’s kingdom.”
Finally the tears flowed from my eyes. I cried and cried not knowing quite why. Grief? Thankfulness? Relief? I was so confused. My mother heard my sobbing and came in. She held me and told me that Annabel is find; God is taking care of her and we can feel sad – but we have hope. We don’t feel the despair that other people do because we know that God loves us and cares for us, no matter what. She held me until I calmed down. At last I was able to sleep.
We held the funeral two days later in our church. The casket was decorated with balloons instead of flowers. It was a perfect reminder that we have a cause to celebrate, because we have the hope of heaven. My mother sang, my father gave the message. It was like any other church service, except that there were more people, all of whom were crying. My dad asked me to do the Bible reading, it included the verse I had read two nights before. He cried throughout his entire message and so did everybody else. I sobbed uncontrollably as he explained that in her entire life Annabel knew nothing but love from those around her.
We drove out to the cemetery and watched as they lowered the tiny casket into the ground. I watched through tears as several people dropped a rose petal into the grave and hugged the grieving family. As everyone left, Annabel’s mother, my “other mother” came to me and wordlessly put her arms around me. As we held on to each other I thanked God for the joy Annabel had brought to us, and for His comfort, now that she had left us.
At last I truly felt God’s comfort and knew that there was no more need for sorrow.
Annabel ran to meet Jesus, and threw her arms around Him. The familiar Voice said, “Welcome home, my beautiful child. I have made you whole and now you are free.”
(At the time of writing Susannah Bates was 16 and lived in Narrabri, NSW)