While I was in Arizona last week for the BYU football game,
my brothers Jesse, Andrew,
and my mom wanted to see the burn center where I stayed
for several months in a coma for burns over 83% of my body.
(Remember that? Blahhhhh).
They hadn't been back since 2008.
When we walked in the sliding doors they immediately began
reminiscing about the familiar smells and sights.
It was a little emotional for all of us.
We walked the long hallways to the very corner of the
hospital where the Burn Center sits tucked away.
My brothers remembered the long visits and hours of waiting for
news that sometimes was really bad.
They talked about the hours of pacing those familiar areas,
the crying, and the prayers offers up to God for relief from their heartache.
On this hot September day, I walked in the Burn Center,
and I was able to walk out.
I recognize and realize that many who enter don't make it out.
It's heartbreaking. I noticed another family in the waiting room,
and my heart hurt for them. I wanted to reach and
assure them that somehow everything was going to be alright.
I wanted to tell them that they were in a wonderful Burn Center
with wonderful doctors, nurses and staff.
I wanted to tell them that with God, anything is possible.
Instead, I smiled at them hoping that if they saw me (and my scars),
I could be a physical testament that miracles
happen right here in the Burn Center. I wanted to tell them to HANG ON!
The Burn Center is a sacred holy place where hope is born
among so much disappointment, suffering and grief.
And sometimes, it's almost like magic.