“Bella, can you put it here?” I’m lying next to 3-year-old Xavier, hoping that we will both get to take a nap. He grabs my hand, the one that had been playing with his wavy hair, and places it in the middle of his chest. “Like this,” he says. I can feel the beat of his heart, his chest rising and lowering with each breath.
I close my eyes and try as hard as I can to linger, but honestly, I am no longer “here.” Vivid memories flood my mind when I feel the long perpendicular scar that crosses his chest.
I remember a beautiful, perfect-looking newborn, my son Christopher’s youngest child. Without a hint of the danger already silently unfolding, we held Xavier in our arms and admired how easily he cuddled with each of us. His five older siblings fell immediately in love with him. We were smitten!
‘Man, It’s Scary’
That sunny Sunday afternoon in May, Christopher had already dropped off Xavier’s five siblings with us, so that he and Mary could take Xavier to urgent care, a suggestion from a close family friend. Their doctor friend noticed something while holding Xavier after Mass, and they agreed to follow up on it, out of an abundance of caution.
“Guys, we need prayers. Xavier was just admitted to the ER,” Christopher texted the family. “He was having weird breathing. He needs heart surgery. They say it’s not the scariest thing—but man, it’s scary.”
I tried to make sense of the text—and of the situation—but struggled to comprehend Christopher’s scary words in light of our experience with that beautiful 12-day-old baby boy.
“What is it, Bella? Is it from Dad?” asked 10-year-old Elena—the oldest in their family and our oldest grandchild—who saw me reading my phone and hoped I had some news. I nodded. “What did Dad say?”
As if I had called for them to come over, the rest of the siblings gathered at the back door looking at me. I told them what little I knew, and we prayed together—for Xavier, for Christopher and Mary, and for the doctors who needed to know what to do next.
Although the rest of us didn’t know, Christopher and Mary’s pastor, Father Bill, rushed to the hospital that afternoon to baptize Xavier Aplas Joseph—and to place on his chest a relic of his namesake, Blessed Stanley Rother, Padre Aplas.
My memories of the next few hours, days, and weeks are, even now, like snapshots of someone else’s life. That first day, we learned that Xavier’s condition was called coarctation of the aorta. He was immediately placed on a breathing tube in the cardiac ICU. The plan was to keep Xavier on meds as long as possible in order to delay the unavoidable open-heart surgery until his heart was strong enough. The night before his surgery, I prayed over Xavier, gently placing my hand on his chest. After surgery, I could barely touch his hand. His heart lay exposed, chest open, and covered with something like Saran Wrap as they waited for the inflammation to come down.
The Power of Prayer
My brave little X-man experienced so much those first few weeks of his life, more than many of us will ever go through. Yet except for his chest scar, you would never know it. He is a kind, funny, generous 3-year-old with a spiritual heart of pure gold. Above all, Xavier has a deep love for others, always ready with a hug, a sweet smile, and a loving word—no doubt lessons of love learned from his amazing parents and generous siblings.
During those critical days and weeks at the beginning of his life, my prayer was simple, honest, and in a very real way, effortless. On my knees, with open arms, I called on the name of Jesus, especially when fear and anxiety threatened my spirit.
When I posted a request for prayers on social media for our grandson’s open-heart surgery, I was not prepared for the generous and profound responses. The many assurances of prayers were overwhelming, and so welcomed! Sick friends offered up their own suffering and fasting. There were Masses for Xavier, decades of rosaries prayed, prayer lists, prayer groups, novenas, and Xavier was even brought to church for Eucharistic adoration.
It is no coincidence that, by opening up our own hearts and asking our community of believers to join us, we began to witness the power of prayer. This living body of Christ, most of whom I’ll never meet, lifted up in prayer our newborn grandson and his family—and in doing so, reminded me in a tangible way of God, who is with us in all things, but especially and always in our suffering.
And that’s precisely when we had the eyes to see the miracles unfolding daily.
Prayer
When darkness comes,
Open my heart’s eyes that I may see your presence, O God.
When suffering engulfs my loved ones,
Open my heart’s ears that I may speak your love to them.
When fear and anxiety overwhelm me, O God,
Help me seek you with my whole heart.
Lord, be my rock, my strength, my refuge.
