A Letter from Larry

A Letter from Larry

Hi, if you never read another one of these Letters From Lary, please read this. I don’t blog these often but this is most beautiful, and since I believe in miracles, and before the nay sayers speak, since the magazine named is as it is, I’ll say I know it to be true.

Read, and blessed be.

*This is dedicated to all those I love! With me or lost to me this day!*




Good Wednesday morning Everyone:

Today’s story is a true story that appeared in a local newspaper and
was shared with me by Charlotte, a dear friend. It is a beautiful
story that I hope you will remember.

You are My Sunshine, My only Sunshine

Like any good mother, when Karen found out that another baby was
on the way, she did what she could to help her 3-year-old son, Michael, prepare for a new sibling. They found out that the new baby was
going be a girl, and day after day, night after night, Michael sang to
his sister in mommy’s tummy.

He was building a bond of love with his little sister before he even
met her. The pregnancy progressed normally for Karen, an active
member of the Panther Creek United Methodist Church in Morristown , Tennessee !

In time, the labor pains came. Soon it was every five minutes, every
three, every minute. But serious complications arose during delivery
and Karen found herself in hours of labor. Would a C-section be
required? Finally, after a long struggle, Michael’s little sister was
born. But she was in very serious condition.

With a siren howling in the night, the ambulance rushed the infant to
the neonatal intensive care unit at St. Mary’s Hospital, Knoxville,

The days inched by. The little girl got worse. The pediatrician had to
tell the parents there is very little hope. Be prepared for the worst.
Karen and her husband contacted a local cemetery about a burial plot.
They had fixed up a special room in their house for their new baby,
but now they found themselves having to plan for a funeral.

Michael, however, kept begging his parents to let him see his sister.
I want to sing to her,”   he kept saying.

Week two in intensive care looked as if a funeral would come before
the week was over. Michael kept nagging about singing to his sister,
but kids are never allowed in Intensive Care. Karen decided to take
Michael whether they liked it or not. If he didn’t see his sister right
then, he may never see her alive.

She dressed him in an oversized scrub suit and marched him into ICU.
He looked like a walking laundry basket. The head nurse recognized
him as a child and bellowed, “Get that kid out of here now. No children allowed.” The mother rose up strong in Karen, and the usually mild-mannered lady glared steel-eyed right into the head nurse’s face,
her lips a firm line.

“He is not leaving until he sings to his sister” she stated. Then Karen
towed Michael to his sister’s bedside. He gazed at the tiny infant
losing the battle to live. After a moment, he began to sing.

In the pure-hearted voice of a 3-year-old, Michael sang: “You are my sunshine, my only sunshine, you make me happy when skies are gray.”

Instantly the baby girl seemed to respond. The pulse rate began to calm down and become steady.

“Keep on singing, Michael,” encouraged Karen with tears in her eyes.
“You never know, dear, how much I love you, please don’t take my
sunshine away.”

As Michael sang to his sister, the baby’s ragged, strained breathing
became as smooth as a kitten’s purr.

“Keep on singing, sweetheart.”

 “The other night, dear, as I lay sleeping, I dreamed I held you in
my arms”.

Michael’s little sister began to relax as rest, healing rest, seemed to
sweep over her.

“Keep on singing, Michael.” Tears had now conquered the face of
the bossy head nurse.

Karen glowed.

“You are my sunshine, my only sunshine. Please don’t take my sunshine away…”

The next day…the very next day…the little girl was well enough to go

Woman’s Day Magazine called it The Miracle of a Brother’s Song .

The medical staff just called it a miracle.

Karen called it a miracle of God’s love.



Life is good.

Much love to each of you and yours,


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