MAE JULIAN
Emily Jordan
It was just an ordinary day. Pretty outside, with bright sunshine inviting a little girl outside to play on her swing, pick flowers, or do whatever else appealed to her six-year-old self. But, Emily had chores to do. Her mother told her to pick up her toys in her room, but Emily could not resist the temptation to disobey, and run through the door to the beautiful spring breeze. Her mother noticed, about 5 to 10 minutes later, that the house was silent, and her sunny, cheerful, singing child was oddly quiet. With just a pause of concern, certainly not alarm, she went to the back door and looked about the yard. With stunning, heart slamming horror, she saw Emily hanging limply from the rope that had held a swing. She ran to her, to find her lifeless. Was she screaming? Or was the world around her screaming? Terror and horror have no boundaries. The rest occurred in a blur: the neighbors, EMS, CPR, the ambulance, the helicopter. All melted together in a nightmare of never ending numbness. No reality existed. Her baby, only six, was gone.
Emily was taken to the hospital and was placed on a respirator. To her mother, all those medical people, all those complicated terms, all that black unknown overwhelmed her, washed over her, and became meaningless. Only the tiny hope that burned in her heart existed. Emily would live. She would have to live. Emily did live. But, she has never regained consciousness. The family and the extended family, friends, and loved ones, have kept a vigil at the hospital day and night. She still has not regained consciousness. In her mother’s mind played the scenes of her beautiful brown eyed, laughing child. Easter eggs, and candy, Scooby Doo, The Dixie Chicks, Shania Twain, grubby jeans, pretty dresses. All part of Emily’s world. So far away now. Her four older brothers wait in a state of cautious expectation. The little sister they had all prayed for was now in a world where no one could reach her. And yet…one day her grandfather reached out his hand, and said, “Emily give me your hand.” Emily reached out a hand. Was it reflex? Was it purposeful? Emily’s mother will tell you that Emily will wake up. She will. Not she “might” or “we hope she will.” She will. And so…we wait. Wait for little Emily to wake up, to be part of the beautiful summer and the rain, the sunshine, her brothers, her father, and the rest of her family. We hold hope that she will regain her life back, to pick lots of daisies, to run, to play, to laugh. We wait.
Today, I finished a quilt for Emily. I sewed her name on it, and will take it to her to cover her. Maybe the magic that I have sewn in will warm her with my love. Wake up, little Emily, it’s time to play.
Please pray for Emily Jordan. Waynedalers can pull off anything, because we are a strong community of hope, love, and unity.
Bless you all,
Mae Julian
Editors note: Contributions for Emily are being received at People’s Federal Savings and Loan Co., LaGrange, IN 46761.
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