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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. Woman's Day Magazine
called it The Miracle of a Brother's Song. The medical
staff just called it a miracle. Karen called it a
miracle of God's love

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