I had no idea what was going to take place in the labor room on June 10, 2005. The induction was planned, the nurses were ready and a doctor was on his way, when all of the sudden I felt the need to push. The nurse phoned the doctor over and over: “Hurry, hurry, the baby is almost here!”

My doctor barely sat down and Audrey was born, tiny and not breathing, blue and white, small as a couple of dollar bills, 3 lbs., 4 oz., at 37 weeks term. The NICU staff was there instantly. I didn’t even see them come in. Oddly, the Lord began to speak inside of me. “Lydia,” like I was hearing it with my own ears, “I’ve got Audrey. She will live. Trust me.” It was a soft yet knowing and confident voice.

Four days later a doctor’s report came: Trisomy 18. I knew what it was. I had already studied it and prayed over Audrey, prayed she wouldn’t have this terrible disease. The doctor put a book before us and said, “This isn’t easy. Your child has Trisomy 18. 90 percent die before birth, or moments after birth. The other 10 percent die before their first birthday. Bring in your family to say your goodbyes because your child will not live. She is considered to have no hope.”

Bobby and I wailed, shattered, and had to carry each other to the car so we could somehow make it home to tell our families.

Driving to my parents’ house was very quiet. I never thought your heart and body could break in that way. The whole family was present, and when they heard, they were shaken. No one understood. As a family we prayed and asked God for Audrey to live and not die. I was still in the fog of fear.

On the drive home is where faith and the power of God ignited! Our five-year-old son Noah spoke a word that brought life. “Mommy, Daddy,” he said, “Jesus has the power to drive out every yucky devil!” Then he just sat back and talked about who our Jesus was. And because of that out-of-the-mouths-of-babes moment, we began our journey of believing God for the impossible.

Much of the following two years was spent in the hospital, many of those times touch-and-go, but we also began to build some kind of life for little Miss Audrey Belle. She couldn’t eat, sit, move her arms, look at you, or have vocal sounds, but God did give her one thing: she was sometimes able to smile, which was a great blessing. Her in-home therapist mentioned The Little Light House, but I didn’t really consider it. Another therapist, Susannah, pushed hard and told me to get on the waiting list, so I did it to make her happy. I couldn’t trust Audrey with anyone. People didn’t understand what she had been through.

The call came that Audrey was accepted to The Little Light House. I said, “No, I don’t think I’ll send her there after all.” The woman on the phone said to please pray about it and she’d call me in a week. Oh, how I cried after that call. What if she got sick and I wasn’t told? They could set her in a corner, for all I knew.

Then The Little Light House called back. “Would you like to come to a guest luncheon?” I said sure. Then, amazed at what I’d done, I called my husband. He said, “Go!” My mom said, “Go!” A church friend said, “Go!” Then I called my mom back and begged her to please go with me to the luncheon.

I’m so happy we went! My questions were answered, and I toured the school. It was wonderful, with such love for each and every child, such care taken in the way they needed. The mobile kids moved around so fast. They had discovered how wonderful it was to walk, run and explore. Non-mobile kids still experiened the same and were loved without any difference.

”How much?” I asked. ‘Free,” they said. FREE? How? I couldn’t wrap my mind around it. They told me they received no government funding, just private donations from wonderful people who give their resources, time, money and specialties. “The Lord has always wanted it done that way,” they said.

Audrey has been attending The Little Light House for two-and-a-half years. She is able to use some sign language, focus with her eyes, bear weight through her legs, stand for up to two hours in her standing frame, eat tiny amounts of baby food by mouth, sit with support, crawl in a crawler, walk in a kid walk, and play with toys. She enjoys life and is doing new things each and every day. She has a long way to go, but with the Lord as her strength and The Little Light House helping us, I know Audrey will do all things through Christ who strengthens her.

I love The Little Light House. It has blessed our family in ways I never knew possible. Psalms 118:17 says, “I shall not die but live and declare what the Lord has done.” Funny how God changed a diagnosis of Trisomy 18 to a scripture from the Lord. So we declare: Audrey shall not die but live, and declare all the Lord has done for her!

Elijah was born two days before Christmas in 2006 at exactly the stroke of midnight. His arrival, no doubt, was predetermined by our Heavenly Father at a time when the maternity ward would be vacant and the waiting room unoccupied. You see, Elijah would require the attention of everyone on staff that night as he entered the world weighing only 4 pounds and 2 ounces with remarkable surprises that would stun most physicians.

It would take years of research, tests and questions before we would know that our precious son had two mutations on one little gene, RECQL4, which caused missing knee joints, missing thumbs, missing radius bones, a never-ending skin rash, a cleft palate, smallness, a vision deficit, legs that won’t grow and mangled feet. Eli was born with missing parts, but his heart is big and his smile contagious.

It would only take three months after Elijah’s birth for a dear friend of mine to recommend I place Elijah on the waiting list at The Little Light House. I can admit now that I added Eli to the waiting list absolutely sure that he wouldn’t need the services. Just after Eli’s second birthday he was welcomed to the school. We knew this was God’s plan for Eli.

When Eli started at The Little Light House he could sit up, but that was it. He couldn’t crawl. He couldn’t help himself to lie down from sitting or vice versa. He couldn’t explore his surroundings without the assistance of an adult. Eli was stuck. When we told the therapists that we wanted Eli to be able to get up and down on his own, they didn’t flinch. They knew it was possible. Honestly, I wasn’t sure. I figured I was giving them a task that would take years to accomplish.

I was wrong. The therapy team and classroom teachers worked with Elijah every day, and every day he achieved something. Soon, he was gently helping himself from sitting to laying and back up. Next, he cleverly developed a skill to sit on his bottom and scoot around on the floor taking himself wherever his heart desired. He’s learning how to use his four fingers to meet his needs. His vocabulary is developing quickly, and recently he starting forming complete sentences, “Where are you, e-a?”

I laugh about the time I told Eli’s teacher that he started calling his sister “e-a” (her name is Sophia). I was thrilled. Later, I realized that it was his teacher who taught him her name and how to say it using the family photos they had requested. The caring teachers at The Little Light House think of everything!

If I give you a glimpse into our world you would see long hospital stays, countless doctor visits and 11 painful surgeries. You would know that being Eli’s parents is a lot of hard work and often times hurts deeply as we watch him suffer through surgeries, tests and illness. But, what I want you to know is that the Little Light House is a place of hope for us. The Little Light House is where Eli learns to be the best he can be – where he learns to thrive.

You can learn about Eli’s journey at prayforeli.blogspot.com, but today, I hope you are inspired by his story. I hope you see that his future is possible thanks to the expert instruction he receives at The Little Light House. Please, remember Eli’s school in your charitable giving. Without your help, Eli’s hope will dim.