I received my latest report on Sybil last night. Before I tell you what I heard, let me bring you up to date with excerpts from recent columns.

March 10: Life. It's strange, isn't it? The chords that tie total strangers together can fall from nowhere to wind knots never to be broken again.

Last night, at 11:30 p.m. my phone rang. Lynda (my sister) was calling from her car. That morning, she had insisted that a hotel clerk in Bainbridge let her into the room of a friend and business associate from out of town who had not shown up at the office on time. She had immediately taken the friend to a local hospital. Doctors at that hospital had called for emergency transport to Tallahassee Memorial Hospital where her life hangs in the balance at this writing because of a leaking aneurysm.

My sister has a very demanding job and she had a thousand things on her plate yesterday. None of it mattered. Nothing mattered except getting help for a friend. She could not even think of herself, her work, or her own family, until her friend's husband had arrived at the Florida hospital last night. Then, and only then, could she walk away from the situation.

March 17: The Henry County woman (Sybil) that I wrote about last week is still fighting for her life. Valiantly from what I hear. Keep praying. They are going to try to take her off the respirator today. My sister thinks a miracle is in the making. Sybil's husband, family and friends are with her, encouraging, stroking, praying, standing by her. In America today, that alone is a miracle. We all should rejoice, as we keep praying.

April 7: I met Sybil yesterday and I may never be the same again.

I said last week, “Prayer changes things. I know that it does. I cannot prove that it does. I cannot convince any other being of the power of prayer. Even when one hears a prayer being offered up to God and watches events unfold in direct answer to that prayer, even then there are those who will rationalize the whole scenario. I've been there. I know.

“I've also prayed, that is, communed with God, and watched miracles unfold after participating in such a powerful act. And I have stood in absolute awe and indescribable wonderment while observing the forces that come into play when prayer is the catalyst. So, again, I know.”

Well, meeting Sybil allowed me to live the truth of both avenues of knowing. An insurance professional for 32 years, she was in Bainbridge to train a new customer service rep, when she did not show up as scheduled on a Thursday morning. My sister went to the hotel to check on Sybil, was assured she was okay, that she was just sleeping in. Lynda walked to her car to leave. As she reached for the door handle, her hand would not work. She could not open the door. A little voice said, “Go back.”

She went back...

Lynda knew Sybil would live. I tried to prepare her for the fact that she may never be “normal” again, even if she lived. My sister would not hear of it. “You don't understand,” she would say. “God would not have opened so many doors just to slam the last one in our faces.”

Now, I didn't especially like her answer. I know too many people who remain paralyzed or brain damaged or even comatose, following ruptured aneurysms, accidents or serious illness. So I, the nurse, was trying to prepare Lynda for less than a perfect outcome. Lynda, the prayer warrior, however, knew better.

And so Lynda prayed. All that day and through the night while Sybil's life hung in the balance, Lynda prayed. In an effort to make me understand, my sister directed me to Romans 8:25-27: “...if we hope for what we do not see, with perseverance we wait eagerly for it. And in the same way the Spirit also helps our weakness; for we do not know how to pray as we should, but the Spirit Himself intercedes for us with groanings too deep for words; and He who searches the hearts knows what the mind of the Spirit is, because He intercedes for the saints according to the will of God...”

May 18: My phone rang. It was Lynda with the update on Sybil. “She's back at work. Full time. No more therapy. She's as good as new. Maybe better. She called to thank me for saving her life.”

Lynda was crying.

“What did you say,” I asked.

I told her she should thank God. All I did was listen to Him. She's just lucky that I was listening that day.

Sybil is a walking, living, breathing miracle. How often have you or I passed up the opportunity to participate in such a miracle because we were not listening?

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