At last a hospital worker arrived to lead us to Alex's room. We were about to go into a very different hospital room from the one of my memory. I had never before been in an intensive care unit. Walking down the hall, I thought how strange it was that none of the rooms had doors. Only loosely hanging, shabby-looking drapes separated us from the many families and the trauma that engulfed them. For all their plainness, those drapes wielded tremendous power to shield pa.s.sersby from the pain within each room. The hollow gaze of hopeless anguish flooded through the doorways with open drapes. The children I saw looked so sick, so distressed. Alex would look much different, I a.s.sured myself, much better.

When we rounded the corner and stepped into Alex's room, I took a sharp breath. The scene was overwhelming. It was as if we had stepped into the command center in some diabolical war. Alex lay flaccid, eyes closed, on a bed in the center of the room. He was completely surrounded by a riot of monitors, wires, tubes, and endless medical paraphernalia. A ventilator conspicuously pumped air into his lungs.

Yet other than the obvious trauma points and the tubes running in and out of his body, he looked fairly normal, at least at first glance. Garish evidence of the accident was mercifully spare, just a few small sc.r.a.pes and one deep gash held together by st.i.tches.

A moment later, though, the icy fingers of fear once again encircled my heart-he looked ... lifeless. How do you describe what it means to be a parent and to stand, helpless, over the broken body of your child? Yet in that very moment, something deep inside me believed Alex would survive-in what condition I dared not think. But from that moment on, an a.s.surance that he would live took root, never to be dislodged.

Please, G.o.d, help our son.

I remembered praying with Alex as he received Jesus as his Savior a few years before. He was so young, yet so sincere. What an awesome privilege! Alex knew he wanted to go to Heaven someday, and he grasped that he could not go simply by "being a good boy." Heaven could not be earned like other things. Alex knew he needed someone else to pay the price for his sin-the wrong things he would do in his life-so that he could accept the gift of going to Heaven and being with G.o.d.

I have to admit, I did wonder about the sincerity of his faith. What can a child understand about the depths of faith at this age? Surely kids only mindlessly repeat the words and ideas adults feed them, without really understanding the truth.

A few weeks after Alex prayed to invite Jesus into his life, I put his faith to the test.

"Alex, does Jesus live in your heart?"

"No, Daddy."

My heart sank. There it was, I thought. His prayer had been meaningless ... but then Alex continued, "Jesus died for my sins, but He doesn't live in my heart-He wouldn't fit. The Holy Spirit is in my heart now."

So Alex did understand-Jesus had died for his sins and left the Holy Spirit as His Comforter and Counselor. I learned my lesson then and there: a young child is able to grasp the things G.o.d wants him to know.

Suddenly my consciousness was jerked back into the present. There was my precious son, lying in front of me. I took a.s.surance from the fact that the Holy Spirit would be with Alex forever, but would G.o.d allow me me to be with Alex again in this world? to be with Alex again in this world?

What else was there to do but to cry out to G.o.d for mercy? We didn't know it then, but even the best doctors are quick to admit they don't understand these situations very well. I could do nothing but beg G.o.d for help.

Oh G.o.d, please forgive me for what I have done. Please let me apologize to Alex. Please protect him. Please comfort him. Please be his heavenly Father because his earthly father is completely helpless. I give You my son. I let go of him. He is Yours. Please help him from the top of his head to the bottom of his feet. I trust You, G.o.d. In Jesus' name, amen.

Somehow in G.o.d's mercy, my spirit was bathed in a new sense of calm at the end of that prayer. Had some kind of spiritual transfer occurred? My theology already settled the matter of G.o.d's being in complete control of the situation. G.o.d had already wrapped His arms around Alex, but had something fundamentally changed in Heaven because of my prayer to completely release Alex to G.o.d ... to let go of what I couldn't hold on to anyway? Somehow, it seemed so.

Beth and I stayed and looked on our son in silence. How long, I don't know. In the quietness, I slipped my arm around her, probably more for my comfort than for hers. The coma took Alex someplace we couldn't reach him. I stared, wondering as my heart ached for my broken son. Little buddy, are you lonely? Are you scared? Do you want me to hold you? How desperately I want to hold you. Little buddy, are you lonely? Are you scared? Do you want me to hold you? How desperately I want to hold you.

I remembered how much Alex had loved church. We belonged to a casual-dress church. For the most part, people dressed comfortably, and kids wore school clothing. Not Alex. He decided he wanted to wear a suit to church. Even with Daddy in khakis and a dress shirt, even with a pastor who almost never wore a suit, Alex wanted to wear a suit. He has never been a go-along-with-the-crowd type. He never wore a suit anywhere else. He wanted to dress up for G.o.d.

And then I thought about another side of Alex-the one that spent as much time outdoors as possible. I remembered one day how deeply satisfied he looked as he walked barefoot in the back garden, crunching autumn leaves with his toes. "Daddy," he asked, "don't you just love the sound of the leaves under your feet?"

At some point during our first evening at the hospital, we were ushered into a room designated for parents whose kids were in the ICU. Our other three children had gone to stay with some of our friends, and we soon found ourselves alone in bed, staring at the ceiling in silence. What had just happened to our lives? What would tomorrow bring? Would Alex make it through the night? Where was he, really? The accident had traumatized his body. The coma had taken him far away. When would he come back? Would Would he come back? he come back?

Oh G.o.d, we need You now...

In a fit of exhaustion, we slept.

For the first week, Beth and I never even left the hospital; we weren't interested in being anywhere else. At the same time, support came flowing in. The first group to a.s.semble for help was made up of friends, family, and our church family, led by Pastor Brown. But soon the exponentially growing number of men and women around Alex and our family could only be described as an army.

Our children were with us virtually the entire time, but on those occasions when they weren't, they were warmly loved and nurtured by friends or family. For instance, a few women took turns rocking, feeding, and changing our newborn whenever Beth couldn't be with him. Someone organized the delivery of all our meals. Someone else organized the bringing of fresh clothes and the laundering of dirty clothes, as well as providing any personal items we needed. Errands were handled by someone else. So much food began appearing that there was a buffet line in the ICU waiting room at one point. It remained for days as people removed and replaced covered dishes as necessary. Get-well cards bearing notes, prayers, and Scripture verses flowed in until every square inch of Alex's room was papered over with them. The doctors and nurses were dumbfounded and often commented that they had never seen such an outpouring of love.

A steady stream of G.o.dly men-elders, deacons, pastors, and lay leaders-along with many G.o.dly women arrived from every corner of the state. Common were the stories of people who "felt G.o.d tugging at their hearts to come." One pastor drove two hours just to visit Alex. Since he arrived after visiting hours and wasn't on the prearranged schedule, the hospital denied him admittance to Alex's room. Undaunted, he drove home, only to turn around the next morning and drive back, spending most of the day praying over Alex. During those first few critical days, many local youth groups came as well, singing praise and worship songs in Alex's room. At any given time, there were never fewer than five people in Alex's room during visiting hours.

Within a short time, there were so many visitors that someone organized a visiting schedule to accommodate them all. Even more important, someone organized a night-watch prayer vigil in Alex's room. Every two hours, someone was praying over Alex throughout the night-every night, for months. Many of these saints we never met. They were there serving G.o.d in obscurity, for His glory.

The ministry to Alex and our family engendered so much activity that the hospital had to organize itself, too, in order to handle all the traffic. Hospital staff printed up stacks of "Alex" pa.s.ses with his name and room number. They told us that Alex typically had more visitors than the rest of the ICU patients combined, a situation the saints soon endeavored to remedy.

The prayer/visiting/blessing ministry that started with Alex soon fanned out to the other families in the ICU. In this G.o.d reserved a special blessing for Beth and me. We had been completely absorbed with Alex and his care-understandable, yes, but when we joined those who came to minister to Alex and went from room to room in the ICU to comfort others and to pray with them, G.o.d did something in our hearts. These firsthand encounters with other families experiencing deep trials were a poignant reminder in the midst of our own sorrow that there were many other people suffering just as much as we were. It helped us gain perspective, helped us to turn outward and see in a new light the blessings G.o.d was bestowing so abundantly on us.

If you were looking for good food and good Christian fellowship during that mid-November, there was no better place than Children's Hospital and the ministry that grew up around Alex. We could never begin to appropriately thank the thousands who blessed us with their selfless giving. If there ever was a time when the church enveloped needy souls in arms of love, we experienced it.

Oh, and one more thing. That stack of unpaid bills overflowing my bill basket back home, which I had fretted so much about prior to the accident? It disappeared. I never got the chance to tape that G.o.d Will Provide sign on the side of it. A wonderful man whom I have always held in the highest regard made a quiet trip out to our empty house during that first week we were in the hospital. He took the entire basket and paid every bill to the last penny-an immense sum. But these things have a way of getting out. Thank you, G.o.d, for Your beautiful saints. Thank you, G.o.d, for Your beautiful saints.

Two by Two On the third day following the accident, there was an unexpected development. A nurse approached me and asked, "Mr. Malarkey, may I have a word with you in private?"

"Sure."

We walked into the hall, and she began to speak, hesitated, and began again. "Uh, Mr. Malarkey ... I know you'll understand-I'm sure you'll agree-from now on, we need to limit Alex's visitors to no more than two people in his room at a time."

"I certainly do understand, but I hope this didn't come about because our friends have abused our visiting privileges. If so, I would like to apologize for-"

"Oh, no, sir! That's not it at all, I ... I promise," she replied in haste. "Not that the numbers haven't been overwhelming. But everyone has been very very respectful of the hospital rules." respectful of the hospital rules."

"Oh, that's good to hear. But then why the rule change?"

"Well," she hesitated, searching for words with a side-glance, "it's not a change, really-it's just, well, a guideline we should be following."

I nodded, but my mind raced to understand. At that very moment, there were twenty people on the waiting list in the lobby ready to go in, five at a time, to pray for Alex-just like the previous seventy-two hours. I rarely take things at face value, and this wasn't making sense to me. Why was this policy so important today, if not yesterday or the day before? Clearly there was something she didn't want to tell me. Then the light went on.

"The doctors just figured out that Alex is going to live, didn't they?"

The nurse nodded, a little sheepishly, and then leaned in, a.s.suming a confidential tone. "I've worked on this unit for twelve years. I have never never seen a child survive the kind of injury your child sustained- seen a child survive the kind of injury your child sustained-never."

Seventy-two hours had been the time frame the medical staff had stressed. They'd been watching the clock. The unit workers had not expected Alex to cross over into this day with a beating heart.

My heart leaped for joy as I hurried back to the lobby, gathered everyone there, and issued the new rule and explained its reason. A cheer went up, and everyone praised G.o.d. The visitors list was reorganized for groups of two. Once there, they could pray for as long as they felt the need-then they had to give their place to someone else. To help accommodate the steady stream of people, we agreed there would be no conversation in the room other than with G.o.d. Alex would have two people praying beside his bed at all times.

As I sat by Alex one day that week, another memory surfaced. Just a few months before, Alex had actually caught air when riding on a local BMX course. He and I were at the top of the biggest hill on the course when I turned my head to see where Aaron had gone. In that instant, Alex launched down the giant hill. Although my emotions were doing a bungee jump as I watched him gain enormous speed, he actually stuck the landing! He had also learned how to do a flip one day on a friend's trampoline. A few weeks later he was at the perfect location to execute the flip he had been practicing-the side of a swimming pool! He scared us to death, but again nailed the landing. Before the accident, Alex could be socially shy and sometimes clingy with his mommy and daddy; when it came to physical activities, however, he was fearless.

Now as I sat by my boy's bedside, I couldn't help but wonder, What would happen to him now? Would he ever have a chance to act with such fearlessness again?

+ + +When Alex moves again, we are going to have a bike race.Gracie Malarkey,Alex's sister+ + +From AlexInside the GatesI knew you before I formed you in your mother's womb. Before you were born I set you apart and appointed you as my prophet to the nations.Jeremiah 1:5Heaven is not the next world; it is now.Heaven is not up in the sky; it is everywhere and nowhere.Heaven is a place that is not a place. It's eternal. All other places end.Heaven is a time with no past, present, or future ... it is always now.When I was in the car, I tried to move my legs. I realized that they would not move. I went through a light and I heard music.Then I was in the presence of G.o.d. He had a body that was like a human body, but it was a lot bigger. I could only see up to His neck because, like the Bible says, n.o.body is allowed to see G.o.d's face or that person will die. He had on a white robe that was very bright. I looked down at my legs, and I could move them again.Even right now as I tell you this, I feel in my heart just like I did when it happened.Everything was perfect.My daddy told me about a man who wrote about spending time in Heaven. He had a bad car accident like me, and he went to Heaven and heard incredible music and saw glorious colors-like me. But this man saw people he had met in life who had talked to him about Jesus. When I was in Heaven right after the accident, Ididn't see any people, only G.o.d, Jesus, and angels.But when I heard the story, I told my daddy that this man was not in Heaven.My daddy was surprised. Daddy said that this man was a pastor and that he believed him. I told Daddy that the man's story was true; it's just that, technically (one of my new favorite words), the man stayed outside the gates of Heaven. Then my daddy told me that's what the man says in the book!I asked Daddy, "He didn't see G.o.d or any angels, did he?" Daddy said that's what the man said in his book. Ialso told Daddy he wasn't there very long. Daddy said that was true; he was there only about an hour and a half. Daddy asked me how I knew that. It's because he didn't get to see much of the good stuff, I told him. All of the heavenly beings are inside the gate. G.o.d must have wanted him back to earth right away.When I went to Heaven, I arrived on the inside of the gate. I was with heavenly beings, but the other people who came to Heaven were all on the outside of the gate.The gate is really tall, and it's white. It is very shiny, and it looks like it has scales like a fish.I think of the things on the outside of the gate as an outer Heaven. I was in the inner Heaven, and everything is brighter and more intense on the inside of the gate.There is a hole in outer Heaven. That hole goes to h.e.l.l.Later, my daddy asked me to tell him about other differences between the inside and outside of the gate, but I had to tell him that I am not allowed to share some things. G.o.d told me not to. I don't know why; it's just what He said. I asked my daddy if he was mad about this, but he just hugged me and told me that obeying G.o.d is more important than anything.But I can say that inside the gate is the place G.o.d has prepared for us. It is brighter and more colorful. It is impossible to describe ... it's glorious!The outside of the gates is like a waiting room. Things don't move on the outside like they do on the inside. They move, but it's not the same. I can't describe it.That other man who spent time in Heaven is right: the music is beautiful. He said it was like many songs at the same time-but sounding like one song. I didn't think it was a bunch of songs at the same time, just very intense. It's beautiful. I really liked the harps inside the gates. The music is nothing like music here. It is perfect!Perfect is my favorite word for describing Heaven. is my favorite word for describing Heaven.

Chapter 4

An Army Gathers

The truth was that Alex's story had grown bigger than our family, bigger than our church, bigger than even our local community. People sensed that this was Heaven's business.

Three days after the accident, I woke up and made my way to the shower. I had slept fitfully the night before. It felt good to let the steaming water cascade down my face as I wondered, Was Alex experiencing something like sleep? What was happening to him? Where was he? He had seen his way through the first three days ... but would he remain asleep forever?

Medically speaking, there were so many unanswered questions, so many uncertainties. Beth and I would have given anything just to do something practical for Alex to improve his chances. The most we could do, however, was to pray, and we had to remind ourselves that this was a significant contribution.

But we felt there was something else we could do: we could get the word out to everyone who believed in the power of prayer and who might agree to intercede for Alex before G.o.d.

People had been calling the hospital and pouring into the hallways since the moment visiting hours began-we'd never dreamed that we had so many true friends and loved ones and would make so many new friends besides. But we wanted to spread the word far and wide, to Columbus, to Ohio, and to the uttermost parts of the earth, if possible, so that prayer warriors everywhere would take up Alex's cause. We'd heard stories of miracles that happened when G.o.d's people were diligent in taking their requests before the Lord. We simply weren't prepared, however, for the depth of the encounters we would soon be having in prayer as we became surrounded by a group of saints we called Alex's Army.

+ + +I have a strong faith, but I am a weak man. Please pray that G.o.d continually refreshes me and that Inot fall prey to the fiery darts of the evil one.PrayforAlex.com post by Kevin Malarkey onDecember 10, 2004+ + + "Nice" Christians or Prayer Warriors?

How often do we hear people described as "nice"?

But is that really what our faith is all about? Isn't it possible to appear to be a pleasant person, with a smiling face, saying all the right words to give the impression that one is close to G.o.d? Isn't it revealing that Jesus, the apostle Paul, and all of the great saints of the Bible were never never described as nice? described as nice?

G.o.d had taken care of where He placed us-not among your average "nice" people, but among true men and women of G.o.d, soldiers of the Cross who were ready to mobilize. These were people who understood spiritual warfare in ways the vast majority of us never recognize.

What's all the more amazing is that these were practical practical people as well. Some served G.o.d with their hearts, others with their hands, but the people around us excelled in both faith people as well. Some served G.o.d with their hearts, others with their hands, but the people around us excelled in both faith and and works. As Alex lay there in a coma and as we stood watching, shocked and numb-with our other children needing us-G.o.d used the ministry of prayer-centric people to sustain us and to carry on the fight for Alex's recovery. works. As Alex lay there in a coma and as we stood watching, shocked and numb-with our other children needing us-G.o.d used the ministry of prayer-centric people to sustain us and to carry on the fight for Alex's recovery.

Our lives were quickly becoming intertwined with those of prayer warriors in ways that we'll never forget as long as we live. One of them had a most unusual name.

Hillbilly Graham Neither Hillbilly Hillbilly nor nor Graham Graham appeared on his birth certificate. He had the distinction of a double nickname. The first came about because of his entertaining country accent, the second because of his remarkable pa.s.sion for introducing people to the Lord-a genuine "hillbilly" version of Billy Graham. What made this man's nicknames even more amusing was that he was actually a successful dentist who resided in one of the affluent suburbs of Columbus. appeared on his birth certificate. He had the distinction of a double nickname. The first came about because of his entertaining country accent, the second because of his remarkable pa.s.sion for introducing people to the Lord-a genuine "hillbilly" version of Billy Graham. What made this man's nicknames even more amusing was that he was actually a successful dentist who resided in one of the affluent suburbs of Columbus.

Knowing Hillbilly's spiritual wisdom, I was excited to see him walk into Alex's room during our first full day in the hospital. Hillbilly visited with us for a few minutes and quickly became a comforting presence, describing times of sickness and trouble in his own family and explaining how prayer had made the difference-how it could do the same for our Alex.

A question had been forming in my mind, and it occurred to me that Hillbilly might be just the person to answer it. But it was the kind of question I wanted to phrase very carefully.

"Hillbilly, can I ask you something?" I offered tentatively. "I'm a little reluctant to say it, because I don't want you to get the wrongidea."

"Don't worry 'bout that!" said Hillbilly in his trademark drawl. "What's on your mind, Kevin?"

"Well, you see, since Alex was very little, I've had this strong feeling that someday he might be a pastor. You know, I've watched him closely, and I've known he was spiritually sensitive and special in so many ways. And I just began believing that someday he would feel a call to the ministry."

My eyes moved down to take in the image of my little boy who had engendered such lofty ideas, which now seemed refuted by all the machines, tubes, and IVs running chaotically in every direction. "Then, well, since the accident, I've started to wonder if it could be the devil behind this whole thing-I mean, causing the accident. Because if I were the devil and I spotted this child who had great potential to serve G.o.d, I'd want to cut him off at the pa.s.s, right?"

Hillbilly began to nod and smile as if he knew exactly what I was saying.

"Now don't get me wrong," I added quickly. "I'm not pa.s.sing off responsibility for what I did. It was me me behind the wheel, not the devil. I've never been the kind to say 'the devil made me do it' whenever I spill a gla.s.s of milk, and I'm behind the wheel, not the devil. I've never been the kind to say 'the devil made me do it' whenever I spill a gla.s.s of milk, and I'm not not trying to pa.s.s off the blame on some invisible-" trying to pa.s.s off the blame on some invisible-"

Hillbilly threw his head back and burst out laughing. His big hand came down hard on my shoulder, smack! smack!

"Bless your heart, man. I'm right there with ya. What you want to know is-did the devil want to kill your son? And I say, 'Ya think think?'"

Then he waved a hand across the room, where people were praying. He continued, "Yes sir sir, I believe the devil tried to kill your son-but you know what? As usual, all he accomplished was to stir up a hornet's nest!"

I stopped, looked, and listened to the hushed murmur of praying voices that filled the room like soft music. Hillbilly was exactly right. The only thing the devil had accomplished was to mobilize the saints to turn to G.o.d. How quickly they had organized to spread the love of Christ by meeting our needs and serving as a major witness to everyone who came in the doors of Children's. I suddenly felt buoyed by an incredible power.

"The Spirit who lives in you," wrote the apostle John, "is greater than the spirit who lives in the world" (1John 4:4). Since I had watched the helicopter bear my son away, I had felt totally weak and helpless. Now I was realizing, in a very practical way, that there are other ways to see things. You can choose to view life as an impersonal machine that provides no user's manual, or you can see it as a spiritual battle in progress, in which a prayer army can make a real difference.

Ours was already on the front line, and I was beginning to gain courage from their presence.

As we continued to discuss these things, someone near me suggested that we leave Alex's room and adjourn to an empty one across the hall. I figured we were doing this out of consideration for the people trying to pray. But as soon as we got there, Hillbilly pushed me down into a chair. Then he gathered everyone in a circle around me. This was for me! It was the last thing I was expecting, and I felt a little awkward. But all I could do was go with the flow. Everyone present laid hands on me while Hillbilly knelt at my feet. He asked me to fully extend my legs. Then he held my feet in the air and began praying.

"Lord G.o.d," he said, "we need Your wisdom right now so that we might understand how to pray and what to ask for. Use us as vessels for Your healing power." The others whispered their prayerful affirmation. "We are here for Alex, dear Lord," he continued, "but now we lift his father, Kevin, before You. He is a victim of this accident too. Heal him in every way, mind and body. You are the Great Physician; place Your healing hand upon him, we pray, in Jesus' name."

Hillbilly Graham finished praying, placed my feet back on the floor, and said, "You're done."

"I beg your pardon?" I asked.

"You're going to have no physical problems from that wreck," he said. "G.o.d is strengthening you so you can be strong for your family."

The Art of Prayer I did have some soreness from the accident. I still limped a little and had that sharp pain in my neck when I turned my head just so. It's typical to have lingering physical problems, which can last for years, from the kind of contortions a body goes through in an accident like ours. The soreness and pain in my neck didn't vanish immediately, but an amazing thing did happen: following Hillbilly's prayer-and to this day-I have never needed any medication or medical help of any kind for those injuries and have no residual or recurring problems.

I looked around me at those faithful friends who were gently gripping my arms and shoulders, asking G.o.d to intervene for my health. Just the day before I'd been wondering, What do these people really think about me? What do these people really think about me? Here was what they thought: they loved me and wanted G.o.d's best for me. Here was what they thought: they loved me and wanted G.o.d's best for me.

I felt ashamed for having doubted them. How often did I do others the injustice of a.s.suming the worst about them? I still had my own guilt to contend with, but it was such a relief to know there were brothers and sisters in Christ who had my back, who wouldn't judge me, and who would pray for me when it was so very difficult to pray for myself. The love they showed filled me with a fresh energy to pray for Alex.

Hillbilly Graham was not finished, however, and he had a question for everyone. "Is there anyone here who has any unconfessed sin in their hearts? We can't approach G.o.d effectively when hiding sin in our lives. He won't hear us. The only thing we accomplish when we pray without examining ourselves is to obstruct prayer. We need to prepare our hearts, so if there is anyone here who needs to get right with G.o.d, now is a good time to take care of it. Let's bring those sins before G.o.d and receive the forgiveness He offers. Let's be as pure as we possibly can before we take up the huge task of praying for this little boy. Everyone take a moment and reflect silently. First John 1:9 says, 'If we confess our sins to him, he is faithful and just to forgive us our sins and to cleanse us from all wickedness.' Let's confess before G.o.d and then come together in prayer for Alex."

There were many incredible prayer sessions during this period, but this one and Pastor Brown's in the waiting room the night before truly stand out. There was a palpable feeling of the presence of G.o.d among us.

In prayer, we reiterated that the doctors had spoken and that we wanted G.o.d to have His say. We prayed for Alex's brain and skull, we prayed for his breathing, for the healing of his spine, and finally that the doorway to death would be locked shut for him. We knew that Heaven awaited him someday, but we believed that G.o.d had more for him to do in this world. As usual, Hillbilly led the charge.

There was a midweek church service a week or two later, and the congregation was again praying for Alex while we kept our vigil at the hospital. Hillbilly felt something touch his soul during that prayer, and he began to weep uncontrollably. When I heard about it, I gave him a phone call.

"What is happening, Hillbilly?" I asked. "What made you cry?"

"I had an amazing sensation. Kevin, things are happening in Heaven that concern Alex. The Spirit of G.o.d is moving. I could feel it as we prayed together, and I just felt overcome with emotion."

Science and Sovereignty The testimony of science said that Alex was unconscious and that he wasn't even breathing on his own-he was physically incapable of movement. As far as the world knew, Alex lay still and quiet in a coma. The doctors felt there was very little hope for his survival. And even if Alex's body did continue to hang on, there was the question of his mental function. There had been traumatic injury to his brain, and we were told that the sweet six-year-old boy we had known would never speak to us again.

But Alex's testimony is that he was as wide-awake and attentive as Beth, the other children, or me. As you've already read, he has a detailed memory of how the accident played out. He can remember the men removing him from the car and saying that he was a brave boy. He recalls seeing me get into the ambulance, after the helicopter had flown away-yet he doesn't remember the helicopter ride, in which he actually partic.i.p.ated.

How can we explain these things? Alex certainly knows what he saw, heard, and felt; he has never wavered on any of the details. He offers his memories, and it's up to the rest of us to draw our own conclusions. It seems to me, on hearing his account, that G.o.d allowed my son to see all the events at the accident scene. Then Alex's spirit was called deeper into Heaven for the remarkable events that were to transpire there.