I recently visited Dogwood cemetery, where my sister, Susie, is buried. Susie passed away on July 2, 2006, at the age
of 54. Fifty-four years of age seems like such a young age, but not so young when you realize that Susie was actually
an “oldie” given her condition. Susie was born with Down’s Syndrome. This by itself would make Susie very special, but
unless you knew Susie personally or knew of her you could not know just how special Susie truly was.
Susie was also born with a cleft palate, which required several surgeries to correct, and which in connection with her
genetic condition caused her to be difficult to understand when she spoke. One would typically have difficulty
understanding Susie whenever she talked, and even though this caused her more than a little frustration, she plowed
ahead and showed no great anxiety because of it.
However, one of the unique gifts with which Susie was born was a strong and clear singing voice. And how she could
sing! For most of Susie’s life she spent many hours in front of large crowds doing her thing. Eventually Susie would
have the opportunity to traverse the country, singing at women’s retreats and giving her testimony of how she came to
be the way she is. Susie would give her testimony, and as she spoke you could see people looking around with
embarrassed looks, and you could sense their concern over how they were to be expected to understand her when she
sang. But when the time came for her to sing, Susie would open her mouth and the words would go forth, and when
Susie sang, people would sit up, and you could see in their faces that they had no difficulty understanding her then.
Susie was a strong singer, but more than that she was a person of strong faith. Whereas most normal people live their
lives under a rock, afraid to broaden their horizons, Susie lived her life with no fear and no regrets. Susie did however
have her issues. Of the many experiences Susie did have, she spent more than her fair share of time in the hospital.
Several years ago Susie became very sick. Susie was taken to the hospital where she spent several weeks in the
isolation ward while tests were run to determine the cause of her ailment. Poor Susie. She had already spent so much
time in the hospital for various ailments, and even though it had to be depressing for her, she always seemed to be the
one cheering up visitors rather than they who were cheering her. However, on this particular trip to the hospital she was
not allowed visitors except mother and our pastor.
Each day the technicians would go to Susie's room to take blood. Susie is no different from the rest of us: she is afraid
of needles, and worse than that, Susie suffered from a condition, which made extracting blood an ordeal. The
technician would insert the needle only to have the needle roll off the vein. This would go on for several minutes until a
vein would finally be pierced so that the blood could be collected. Susie had to endure this experience every day that
she was in the hospital, and one can only imagine how uncomfortable and excruciating the experience was. But each
day Susie met her torture with as much bravery as she could muster. I only know these things through the reports I
received from talking to her on the phone and from mother.
One day my pastor got into the pulpit and told how he was visiting Susie in the hospital. Susie was already not feeling
very well, and on this particular day while my pastor was present, the technician came to get blood. Once again the
technician could not pierce the vein, so the needle had to be withdrawn and reinserted. My pastor told how the
technician reinserted the needle, but to no avail. She could not induce the blood to flow into the vein. So, the
technician very apologetically explained to Susie that she would have to have another go, but before she could withdraw
the needle Susie asked her to wait. Susie wanted to pray and ask God to send the blood. The technician very patiently
told Susie that she would wait, but that she would still need to reinsert the needle. "Just let me pray first," was all Susie
said.
According to my pastor, Susie started to pray, asking God to let the blood flow. He said that Susie explained to God how
she didn't feel well, and how it hurt to have the needle inserted, and would he please just let the blood flow. According
to my pastor, it was at that exact instant that the needle suddenly filled with blood, which continued to flow into the vile.
He said that even after the technician gathered the required amount of blood, and pulled the needle from Susie's arm,
the point of insertion continued to ooze blood. He said that the technician applied pressure on the spot for a few
minutes, but still the blood wouldn't stop. He said this went on for several minutes, and blood seemingly flowed
everywhere before the technician could get the hole to finally stop bleeding. My pastor said that he thought they never
would stop the flow of blood.
I visit the cemetery occasionally, and while there I do what people normally do: I spend some time recalling the
experiences I had with my sister. I was two years younger than Susie, and so she always referred to me as her “baby”
brother. I learned to play the piano at a very young age, and for much of the time that Susie did her thing on stage, I
was at the piano. I was at the piano the night Susie sang in front of her largest crowd ever: over 8,000 people. In her
lifetime Susie spoke and sang in front of thousands of men, women, and children.
And when Susie sang people heard.