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 to be a girl, and day after day, night after night, Michael sang to his sister in Mommy's tummy. The pregnancy progressed normally for Karen, an active member of the Panther Creek United Methodist Church in Morristown, Tennessee. Then the labor pains came. Every five minutes ... every minute. But complications arose during delivery. Hours of labor. Would a C-section be required?
Finally, Michael's little sister was born. But she was in serious condition. With sirens howling in the night, the ambulance rushed the infant to the neonatal intensive care unit at St. Mary's Hospital, Knoxville, Tennessee. The days inched by. The little girl became worse. The pediatric specialist told the parents to prepared for the worst.
Karen and her husband contacted a local cemetery about a burial plot. They originally fixed up a special room in their home for the new baby - now they planned a funeral.
Michael kept begging his parents to let him see his sister, "I want to sing to her," he said. Week two in intensive care. It looked as if a funeral would come before the week was over. Michael kept nagging about singing to his sister, but kids are not allowed in Intensive Care. Karen made up her mind. She decided to take Michael whether they like it or not. If he didn't see his sister now, 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, but the head nurse recognized him as a child and bellowed, "Get that kid out of here now! No children are allowed. The mother in Karen rose up strong, and the usually mild-mannered lady glared steel-eyed into the head nurse's face, her lips a firm line. "He is not leaving until he sings to his sister!"
Karen towed Michael to his sister's bedside. He gazed at the tiny infant losing the battle to live. And 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 responded. The pulse rate became calm and steady. "Keep on singing, Michael." "You never know, dear, how much I love you, Please don't take my sunshine away---" Her strained breathing became smoother.
"Keep on singing, Michael." "The other night, dear, as I lay sleeping, I dreamed I held you in my arms..." Michael's little sister relaxed as healing rest seemed to sweep over her. "Keep on singing, Michael." Tears conquered the face of the bossy head nurse. "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 home! 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.