Music has always seemed to play a big part in the lives of me and my husband. "How Great Thou Art" and the song "Dance" especially played some important rolls when it came to the event of the birth of our first baby, William, a little over 4 years ago. He was born at the age of 23 weeks, and due to his prematurity, he wasn't expected to live long. But he was one heck of a fighter! After the respiratory therapists at the Newborn Intensive Care Unit got him breathing and on a respirator, we basically set up base camp there at the NICU for the next 5 months. We would spend nearly every day there at his little "cubical". Around that time, the song "Dance", sung by Leann Womack, became really popular. And its words seemed to describe our feelings and wishes for Will to a tee. We would often sing it to him before leaving at the end of the day.
The words said, "I hope you never loose your sense of wonder. You get your fill to eat, but always keep that hunger (for knowledge). May you never take one single breath for granted. God forbid, love ever leaves you empty handed. I hope you still feel small when you stand beside the ocean. When ever one door closes, I hope one more opens. Promise me that you'll give faith a fighting chance. And when you get the choice to sit it out or dance, I hope you Dance!! I hope you Dance!!!
I hope you never fear those mountains in the distance. Never settle for the path of least resistance. Living life means taking chances, but their worth takin'. Lovin' might be (we always said "Lovin's never") a mistake, but it's worth makin'. Don't let some ****-bent heart leave you bitter. If you come close to sellin' out, re-concider! Give the heavens above more than just a passing glance. And when you get the choice to sit it out or dance, I hope you Dance!! I hope you Dance!!!"
It described feelings and events in our lives since the day my husband and I first met. We had met at a dance, only because he had had the courage to ask one more person, (that being me) to dance, after receiving nothing but rejections all evening. And now we were hoping to give that same kind of courage to our little Will. He made it through amazingly big obsticals, including an eye surgery at 3 months which basically set him back to square one, and put him back on the respirators, which he had completely graduated from a week before the surgery took place. He was now back on full life support, where he would be for the next 72 hrs. At this point, at the request of the nurses and doctors there, and also because we could do nothing and would know nothing untill the 72 hrs had passed, we spent the next 3 days away from the hospital, and simply accepted the fact that what ever was God's will would be done. We drove into the mountains, where we could be alone, listened to Christian Hymns, did alot of crying and praying, and tried to come to grips with the possibility of what could happen, either way, when they would attempt to take him off the life support when we returned. One of the hymns we listened to most was "How Great Though Art", which had been my husbands favorite for a long time, and, after hearing him sing it up there in those hills, to the full potential that he could sing, it had become my favorite, as well. Needless to say, it had alot of meaning for both of us as we observed the majesty of all we could see around us that had been created by His hand. It was beautifull.
When we returned, we held our breath as they made the first attempt to remove the life support. And, to our amazement and elation, he was able to breath on his own! He still required oxygen, and still would even after the day we brought him home 2 month's later. The thing we didn't know was that, in having all those machines "breath" for him for so long, it was like a double- edged sword. The things that had been required to keep him alive, had also done irreversable damage to his lungs, due to the longevity of their use. His chest would "sink in" with every breath he took. And all the crying he always seemed to be doing, which I convinced myself was colic, was actually due to the immense pain he was feeling just by breathing. I didn't want to admitt it, but it would only be a matter of time before his lungs would give out completely. On the morning it finally happened, I had just given him his 4-o-clock feeding. I noticed that, rather than just go back to sleep, like he usually did, he seemed much more focused on looking at me. It was like he was studying my face and taking in every little detail in total facination. I remember looking at him and saying "Wow, little guy! You sure are awake and alert this morning! Well, as much as I would love to stay up with you, I can barely keep my own eyes open. Good night, Little Buddy." I layed him back down, and layed down myself on the couch that was only a few feet from his crib. The next thing I knew, the monitors that he was always hooked up to were going off like crazy, and I saw his heart rate falling steadily. I picked him up and, as I called 911, I tried to keep him going with the CPR they had drilled us on at the hospital before they sent him home. The ambulance took him to the E.R., and I phoned my husband, who had left for work only an hour before. He got there just as the doctors were telling me there was nothing more they could do. They simply couldn't get his heart to start up again. As they turned the life support off, we could feel his spirit still with us, and, as a way to say good-bye, my husband and I held each other and sang "How Great Thou Art" as we stood there, crying, in the E.R. The effect on everyone was amazing. Everyone fell silent and stood still untill we stopped, and when we did, I don't think there was a dry eye in the whole room. We also sang it at his funeral, 3 nights later.
So, needless to say that song has had great impact on our lives. As for "Dance", it wasn't untill a few weeks later as I heard it on the radio and reflected upon all these events, that something in the back of my mind made me realize: This song may have been sung by us for Will, but, in the end it was my husband and I, and anyone else who Wills life had happened to touch that it really was more appropriatly meant for. Today, I concider it Will's final message to all of us.