Words Born of Silence

I splashed cold water on my face that morning, hoping the shock would wake me from the nightmare facing our family. Our fourth son, only six months old, was about to undergo a battery of tests at the Primary Children’s Hospital in Salt Lake City. Michael appeared normal, with big blue eyes and a well-proportioned body. How could anything be wrong with him? “Possible brain damage” and “neurological problems” were the terms the doctor used. As I sent our other sons to school, my husband Roger and I prepared for the trip. Roger left to fill the car with gas, and I held Michael. He was crying and hungry. The neurologist from the hospital had instructed us to keep Michael awake all night and withhold food from him to enable clear and precise testing. Hopefully, he would sleep during the brain scans. I never dreamed that the examinations would extend until late in the day, leaving his hungry cries unfulfilled. While nervously waiting for Roger to return, I thumbed through a church manual that the women’s organization in our church (the Relief Society) uses for instruction, recalling the previous Sunday’s lesson on the power of fasting and prayer. I remembered the teacher’s comments about how we could gain personal and family strength and guidance by fasting along with our prayers. Both of these principles, when used together, could draw us closer to Heavenly Father for deeper spiritual insights… … I was startled when the doorbell rang. With Michael nestled in my arms, I opened the door to greet three neighbors who knew of the day’s upcoming events. One neighbor said, “Ruth, we just want you to know that we are fasting and praying for you today.” Another continued, “We love you, and we hope all goes well. As they waved good-bye, a tender chord resounded within me. Though our preparations for leaving soon occupied my thoughts again, I continued to feel their concern and support. After we arrived at the hospital, we were led from one room to the next. Michael was taken from my arms for one test, then another. Blood tests, x-rays, and brain scans were completed, and then repeated. Each time they placed Michael back into my arms, he was tired, crying, and hungry. How many more tests? I cried silently. It was all I could do to hold back the tears. Finally, at the end of the day, one last blood test had to be administered. The nurse asked Roger and I to help hold Michael’s little arms while the needles were placed in his veins. Roger looked at me. “Ruth, I’ll help the nurse. You go to the car and rest for a while,” he said understandingly. Michael’s cries became fainter as I rushed through the hall. Pushing the doors open, I ran down the grassy hill to our parked car. My pent-up emotions were released in a flood of tears. Filled with anguish and fear for his future, I submitted myself to the Lord in prayer, expressing great concern for my son. At that moment, when all seemed lost and my heart was breaking, I felt a tender presence. The fasting and prayers of my dear neighbors literally covered me like a soft blanket. Their loving spirits filled the car, instantly comforting me. Roger returned to the car, pale-faced, with Michael in his arms. He placed Michael in the back seat and slid in front, handing me the papers from the doctors. As I read the diagnosis these words glared up at me: “… tendency or characteristics towards autism.”