You Are My Sunshine

Earlier this week, the sweet Sister who does 5-minute music (and conducts the music and picks the music) in Relief Society asked me if I would help her with 5 minute music. She dropped off a short story with some music to it, and asked if I would read it, and sing a few small parts, or she could read it and I could just sing. I thought briefly about asking Angel or 1 of the kids to sing, but Angel hates singing and I figured since I haven't taught this song to my children (I know! What kind of mother am I?) I wouldn't be able to teach it to them in time for Sunday.

Soooo, I just decided to sing it myself. However it became apparent to me after reading it for the first time, that on Sunday, during the last hour of church, after having been inundated by the Spirit softening my heart more than usually happens during the week, that I may not make it through reading the story. I asked the music sister if she would read the story and I'll sing the little part.

No problem.

Riiiiight...

I got through the first line of the song, and couldn't sing anymore as my throat closed up and I started crying. Wonderfully, blessedly the sisters in Relief Society didn't miss a beat, and started to sing along. It was beautiful. And I felt very loved and comforted by these great sisters. And the whole point of the 5-minute music was to illustrate the power of music. I'm glad I could be the unwitting object lesson.

Now let's see if I can find the story online and can copy and paste it here, or if I'm gonna have to type the whole darn thing!

I love the internet...

(btw, Snopes.com calls this story "undetermined" as it apparently has circulated for a while and is written in the fashion of a news story, though no article in Women's day or anywhere else has been found. I say, who cares? It's a good story. Letting a child sing to their sibling is generally a good idea.)

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 ,Tennessee. 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 are 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 home.