Each of you should use whatever gift you have received to serve others, as faithful stewards of God’s grace in its various forms.
1 Peter 4:10
My team of caregivers at the NIH (empowered by God) had saved my life more than once in the previous 6 months. They had operated on, suctioned out of, medicated, rehabbed, fed, bathed, and so much more for me for so long they all began to seem like family. They had supported Jodi, hugged her and showered her with her favorite snacks just like she was their long lost sister. They made me Mt. Dew jello and calmed my fears in the middle of the night along with so many other acts of grace that are too many to share. To them I wasn’t a project. To them I wasn’t a number. To them I was a person. A human being cared about more than just as a patient who’s life they were trying to prolong. I had grow comfortable with them. I trusted them, and leaving them for a brand new group of helpers was intimidating and terrifying. As day 90 raced closer and closer, the reality of our leaving was beginning to hit all of us, and hit us hard. Tears were shed, hugs were exchanged, 6 foot social distancing rules were broken and the number of visitors coming into my room every day seemed to be increasing as everyone wanted to get a last minute treatment, and one last good-bye in before we jetted off to therapy.
For rehab, we had submitted requests to three different inpatient facilities. Stallworth Rehabilitation Hospital at Vanderbilt in Nashville, The Shepherd Center in Atlanta, and Spain Rehabilitation Hospital at UAB in Birmingham. Shepherd and Spain were certified in brain and spinal cord injuries and would be the best suited to handle my needs, but insurance and bed availability would all prove a factor in where I was headed.
We were also feverishly trying to figure out how to get me there. Jodi was prepared to throw me into her SUV and drive me to either location, but I hadn’t sat upright for that amount of time in months and strapping a quadriplegic into the front seat of a car didn’t seem very prudent. Luckily, between Jodi, Cindy Ann, my mother and social workers at the NIH, we discovered that Angel Flight, the group that brought me to the NIH months before, would also be able to transport me to my next destination. Plans were made to have them pick me up and fly me to whichever rehab hospital accepted me.
As weeks turned into days, some of our precious caregivers threw me a going away party. They wheeled me down to a conference room at the end of the hallway and there I was greeted by men and women that we had come to know and love over the last half-year of our lives. There were balloons and gifts, a canvass signed by all those involved and plenty of hugs and tears.
The Apostle Peter, in a letter encouraging a group of Christians, asked them to use whichever gift they had been given by God to serve others. This is exactly what the medical professionals at the NIH had done with Jodi and I and countless other patients in their care. Interestingly enough, not all of them were believers. Many were, but some were agnostic, others atheist, some Muslim and of other faiths, but all put into practice this same principle: to use the skills and abilities they had to benefit others. Some of them didn’t know or believe that their gifts came from God, but that didn’t change the fact that they did. I wish that all believers would love in the same way. If we did, then I have no doubt that more would be drawn into the God that created, sustains, and redeemed the universe. When I remember my friends in Maryland, I remember them fondly and I pray for all of them that they would come to a deeper understanding of who God is and how much He loves them. For those that know Him, I pray that they would never stop pursuing the giver of all good gifts, and for those who do not know Him, I pray that they would come to grasp how wide, long, high and deep the love of Christ is.
And I pray that you, being rooted and established in love, may have power, together with all the Lord’s holy people, to grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ, and to know this love that surpasses knowledge—that you may be filled to the measure of all the fullness of God.
Ephesians 3:17b-19
As my time at the NIH drew to a close, the chaplain, John, came by to see me one last time. John had made a habit of coming by to see me every day. I know this was his job, but for those that have or are serving in vocational ministry, you also recognize the special fraternity that you become a part of when you stand in the gap. John had been a very special encourager to me over my time in Bethesda and proved to be a vehicle of God’s grace in some of my darkest moments. On this particular day he came with a glass that had the NIH logo on it. He wanted me to take it as a reminder that no matter what I felt, the glass was half-full, not half-empty. He wanted it to be a visual representation of hope as I moved forward in my recovery process. I graciously thanked him and made a note to make sure to I visit him upon my return to Maryland.
Finally word came that I would be admitted to Spain Rehabilitation Hospital at UAB in Birmingham, AL. Angel Flight was scheduled for July 1 and arrangements were made to prepare me for travel.
For over a decade at this point, I had prayed a very specific prayer for my family. I asked God to use my family to impact this world for His kingdom. As my final days ticked away we heard medical professionals from various walks of life, different disciplines, and faiths all give credit to God for what he had done. God had defied the odds to this point—25% chance of surviving the transplant; 18% chance of surviving fungal meningitis—God had done it all, and it wasn’t lost on any one of them. The term “miracle” was used by all, and it was clear that God was using my family and our experiences to make His name famous. It is in moments like this, that you come to realize that when you ask God to use you to advance His kingdom, He will answer that prayer. He just may have to make you sick to do it. It isn’t what any of us would hope for, but when you ask God to use you, you don’t get to dictate to Him how He does it. If that means he has to take my life so that people will recognize who He is, then so be it. In this case, the world got to see a miracle, and this living miracle was on his way to UAB.
Jeremy Powell 