In the dimly lit hospital corridor, five-year-old Oliver had been rushed upstairs while his mother, Emily, was left waiting below on one of the scuffed wooden chairs, flinching at every passing sound. Her thoughts were clouded as she dialled her husband. “Olivers in dangerbarely holding on. Its bad,” she whispered.
Her husband, James, answered calmly, “Hes got my blood, and his granddads. Were tough as nails. Dont lose your head. Hell be fine. Were at the cottage picking mushrooms with Mum. Go home, let the doctors do their jobthey know what theyre doing.”
The corridor felt suffocating, cold and indifferent to her fear. Stepping outside onto the hospital steps, she called her mother, voice trembling. “Mum, Olivers not well. I saw the doctors facesI just know its serious.” Tears spilled over as she spoke.
Her mother replied sharply, “Listennegativity breeds negativity. Put it out of your mind. Think good thoughts, believe in them. Light follows light. No good comes from wallowing. Pull yourself together.”
The air in the corridor was thick. A nurse snapped, “Stop making a scene, love! Youre in the way!”
Only her sister, Sophie, answered when she called. “Sophie, Olivers in a bad way. The doctors wont say whats wrong. Hes unconscious!”
Sophie soothed her, “Children go through these thingsits just growing pains. Trust me. Crying wont help himor you.”
Emily retreated to the darkest end of the corridor, where the peeling wallpaper and creaking floorboards spoke of years of neglect. Glancing around, she clasped her silver cross, sinking to her knees and pressing it to her lips. It didnt matter who saw.
“Youre all-powerfulI know, I believe. Youve felt pain. You know it. And Your Mother wept like I do now. Reach outcomfort me. Theres no one else, just me and this pain. I beg for mercy, for Your love. Help me, Father. Only Youonly You.”
A door creaked open, light spilling in. A doctor approached, his hand outstretched. “Stand up. Breatheyour boy will be alright. Thats a promise. Come on, now.”
Leaning into his steady grip, she steadied herself. “I cant speak thank you. Can I stay tonight? On the chairs?”
The elderly doctor smiled. “Go home. Just go home. Rest. Call in the morning.” He handed her his card.
The next day, James, Sophie, and her mother insisted theyd been right all alongshe shouldve listened instead of panicking like a madwoman.
But none understood the truth that stood above them all. It lay in a mothers prayer, in a love that wouldnt falter, in the One whod never turn away.
