There are moments in this journey when I can tell you exactly what the doctors said.

And then there are moments when I have to tell you what God said to me.

This is one of those moments.

Bug was still on the ventilator.

The doctors had already tried to take her off once, but she wasn’t able to manage her breathing well enough on her own. There was also concern about her airway narrowing once the breathing tube was removed.

Then came the conversation I didn’t want to hear.

A tracheostomy.

They were concerned that if Bug couldn’t safely maintain her airway, they would need to place a trach in her throat to help her breathe.

I understood what they were telling me. I understood why they were concerned.

But something in my spirit would not let me settle there. I refused the trach at that time and sought the Lord.

I needed to hear from God.

Not because I believed the doctors were against Bug. They were trying to protect her. They were looking at her condition through everything their training, experience, tests, and monitors were showing them.

But I needed to know what God was showing me.

And He took me to a valley.

A valley full of dry bones.

“Prophesy Unto the Breath”

In Ezekiel 37, God brings Ezekiel into a valley filled with bones.

Dry bones.

Bones that looked like there was absolutely no life left in them.

God asks Ezekiel:

“Son of man, can these bones live?” Ezekiel doesn’t pretend to know.

He answers, “O Lord God, thou knowest.” Then God tells him to prophesy.

Ezekiel speaks, and the bones begin coming together. Sinews and flesh cover them.

But there is still a problem. There is no breath in them. That stopped me.

Because God didn’t just tell Ezekiel to speak to what he could see.

God told him to speak to the breath.

“Prophesy unto the wind… Come from the four winds, O breath, and breathe upon these slain, that they may live.”

— Ezekiel 37:9

And suddenly, I wasn’t just reading Ezekiel anymore.

I was standing in my own valley.

I had been watching ventilator settings.

Watching numbers. Watching Bug’s chest rise and fall.

Listening to doctors talk about whether she could protect her airway.

Listening to conversations about a trach.

But God turned my attention toward something different.

BREATH.

And I felt Him telling me:

Speak to My breath.

So that’s what I did.

I Began to Prophesy

I began speaking to the breath of God.

I prayed over my daughter. I prophesied life.

I called on the breath of God to fill her lungs.

I spoke over her respiratory system.

I spoke over her airway.

I spoke over every breath she needed to take.

I said, in faith:

“Breath of God, breathe on my daughter.”

“Bug, breathe.”

“Every breath God ordained for you, breathe it.”

“From the four winds, O breath, COME.”

I wasn’t speaking because I believed I had some magical power in my words.

I was speaking because God had given me His Word to stand on.

And when I didn’t know what else to do, I did what Ezekiel did.

I prophesied as I was commanded.

Then Something Changed

Two days later, things began to look different.

Bug started breathing more strongly on her own.

She began out-breathing the ventilator—initiating breaths beyond what the machine was providing.

The same daughter they had been concerned might not manage her breathing without the ventilator was showing them something different.

Her breathing improved. Her readiness changed.

And then…

BUG CAME OFF THE VENTILATOR.

Safely.

No trach.

She was breathing.

I need you to understand why this moment means so much to me.

I watched a machine breathe for my child.

And then I watched my child breathe without it.

Somebody else may call it progress.

Somebody may call it neurological recovery.

Somebody may call it successful ventilator weaning.

And I am grateful for every doctor, respiratory therapist, nurse, medication, machine, test, and medical decision God used in Bug’s care.

But this is my testimony:

I sought the Lord, He took me to Ezekiel, He showed me the breath, and I began to speak His Word.

Then I watched circumstances change.

Sometimes the Miracle Is a Breath

We celebrate big miracles.

Walking.

Talking.

Coming home.

Complete restoration.

But this journey is teaching me not to overlook the miracles that happen one breath at a time.

Because when you’ve watched your child depend on a machine to breathe, you understand something differently:

Breath is a miracle.

That breath you took while reading this?

Grace.

That chest rising and falling?

Grace.

That inhale.

That exhale.

Grace.

Genesis tells us that God breathed the breath of life into man.

Ezekiel shows us God commanding breath into what looked lifeless.

And there I stood beside my daughter’s hospital bed learning that the same God is still the God of breath.

I don’t know what your “dry bones” look like today.

Maybe it’s your health.

Your marriage.

Your child.

Your finances.

Your faith.

Your mind.

Maybe you’re staring at something that looks completely different from what God promised you.

I cannot promise you that your story will unfold exactly like Bug’s.

But I can tell you what I learned in that hospital room:

When fear gets loud, go find the Word God is giving YOU for the valley you’re standing in.

Then stand on it.

Pray it.

Believe it.

And when God tells you to speak

SPEAK!

I spoke to the breath.

And two days later, I watched my daughter breathe without the ventilator.

I’ll never look at breathing the same way again.

Because sometimes the miracle doesn’t walk into the room.

Sometimes the miracle takes a breath.

And Bug breathed.

To God be ALL the glory.

— Her Bible & Her Journal
Faith in real time. Even in the valley.