Hello all,

Believe it or not things have not yet quieted down to the level we Mellbergs are used to. With three E.R. visits under our belt in January (including the birth of Henry, which was – thankfully – scheduled) we thought we could skate through the end of the month without another incident. We were mistaken. And yet, as in everything that happens and has happened and will happen, God’s timing and his blessings continue to clear up the smudges that smear the tapestry of our lives.

I’ve never been a fan of ANY emergency room, until now. And I’ve been lucky enough to have lived within close proximity to great health care facilities my entire life. When we first drove up to look at our future house in Verndale I distinctly remember passing the Lakewood hospital in Staples, MN on the way and thinking to myself “Hey! A nice, newer hospital just 10 minutes away!” I didn’t think that after not even 12 months in our new house we’d be so familiar with this facility, and yet we are. And I think we’re better for it.

On Thursday morning we decided to take George into the E.R. He had come down with a cough/cold over the last 24 hours and had displayed enough symptoms to prompt our taking him in for a closer look. It was a bit of a tough call; we could have gone one direction to a nearby Urgent Care center at a different hospital. We chose the more expensive route of the E.R. in Staples because frankly, after so many visits in the last several months we are quite familiar with the care team(s) all across the campus. From family medicine to physical rehabilitation, to O.B. and Delivery, to radiology and E.R. rooms we could probably draw a map of this place in some detail. Oh yes, I nearly forgot; I also know where they keep their MRI machine!

I stayed with George in the E.R., and we were instantly admitted and cared for as we went over George’s symptoms and behavior. One rapid COVID test later it was determined he does NOT have COVID, but rather Influenza, with a smidge of pneumonia (thank you, chest X-Ray!). God continues to bless us; George has already turned the corner in less than 24 hours. We’ve locked ourselves inside our home, medicated as needed, isolated where we can, and yes, have watched a LOT of movies to keep all the kids stationary and separated (and content). Tate and I are exhibiting mild cold symptoms at this point, but I believe everyone is otherwise doing well. It will probably be a few days yet before we all pull through it, but so far, so good.

This is only half the story, though. I have been continually impressed with WHO God chooses to place before us and WHEN. George and I were seen in the E.R. by my primary physician. As it happens, he hadn’t yet met George. And this is the same doctor that was scheduled to meet with Tate and baby Henry for his two-week checkup the next day. They successfully completed that visit this afternoon. I was already very impressed with this doctor from my check up with him a couple months back. I was curious to get Tate’s impression of him as well. She and Henry were gone for nearly three hours; our doctor’s schedule was that backed up. Nevertheless, Tate came home impressed and thankful at the care he had shown all of us over the last 24 hours. She’s already a big fan of his, and Tate is NOT easily impressed when it comes to doctors.

And I learned something new, something I’m glad I did not learn at the time. According to our doctor and his nurse, Tate has a somewhat local fame about her. She is apparently known around the hospital as “the one who lived”. This is in reference to her battle with COVID during early November. Those who have followed our story over the last several weeks know this already, but Tate was admitted to the E.R. in Staples (at roughly 29 weeks pregnant) and was airlifted to Abbott NW in Minneapolis within 24 hours. She was quickly put on a ventilator for nearly a week, and spent another week plus in the I.C.U. The doctors at both Lakewood (in Staples) and Abbott NW obviously did their jobs well. She survived and has recovered, nearly to 100%. But the miraculous nature of Tate’s recovery seems to keep growing over time.

“The one who lived.” Yikes. That’s a powerful statement coming from a doctor. And as Tate and I discussed this today she came to an equally powerful idea; that perhaps it was baby Henry who saved her! As she elaborated to me, it is not always easy to find space and beds for patients, especially during the last 24 months. Had Tate not been pregnant at the time, she may have not been prioritized as she had been. It seems that, at the time, those who were caring for Tate during her initial, rough patch, didn’t exactly expect her to live. I don’t want to rob Tate of the thanks she deserves from me for being so diligent with her health during her pregnancy, which is why I’m glad that she arrived at the wonderous, beautiful notion that perhaps Henry saved her as much as she saved him. Of course, it is God who holds us all in his infinite care and blessings: “For you formed my inward parts; you knitted me together in my mother’s womb. I praise you, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made. Wonderful are your works; my soul knows it well.” (Psalms 139: 13-14)

The coincidences keep piling up though, which is probably my favorite part throughout all this. I happened to have my bible with me while George and I were in the E.R.; so, I was able to read to him one of his favorite passages: David and Goliath (1 Samuel, Chapter 17). Our doctor is also a fellow Christian, and we were able to discuss our faith during our visit. I was reading Job at the time, which makes any suffering I’ve seen seem as nothing in comparison. Psalms comes right after Job and since I had already read that, I moved to right on to Proverbs, which is a great comfort to read (but perhaps even more after just finishing Job!). I stumbled upon a verse I’ve seen many times at my sister-in-law’s house “Gracious words are like a honeycomb, sweetness to the soul and health to the body” (Proverbs 16:24). There are so many lampposts that seem to keep lighting our way in life, and near as I can tell they are all tied to the Bible, which of course only leads to God.

I know this sentiment doesn’t make everything better. My brother-in-law just laid his father to rest. My dad has two co-workers, brothers, who both died of COVID within days of each other. There are and continue to be countless people suffering in ways big and small, known and unknown. And I’m still selfish, stupid, stubborn, and not yet fully appreciative of all that God’s done for me and my family, my friends, our community, this nation, and beyond. “Life is short” may be too obvious and maybe even a little trite to use here, but I believe an egg has been cracked over my head in regard to our temporal existence. We all may only have a day, a week, a month, or a year left. Or maybe a lifetime. And then what? For some, sadly, there is an expectation of bleak nothingness; for others there is the hope of an everlasting, as in Heaven. With the help of God, through his word in the Bible, I am trying to refocus my life (and by extension, my family) into a more external perspective. Old habits die hard; soon enough (probably tonight even) I’ll be shopping online and thinking about bills and worrying about work and slipping back into a mindset that dwells on minutia rather than the other side of Glory (when Jesus returns). Please pray for me, and our family. I will try to do the same for you.

Thank you!