Gareth was born two years ago on the day the Feast of Tabernacles began. We began that Feast excited, exhausted, exhilarated. Since we were going to be staying home, my husband Mike and I had prayed that God would make this an especially meaningful Feast for us.

The first day of the Feast we found the time to listen to a sermon on the Internet during one of our new baby's naps. A couple of family members came over to visit. We ate good food and tried to get some sleep. The second day of the Feast of 2007 our midwife came over to check on Gareth. She took off his clothes and told us to take him to the hospital immediately. Gareth was yellow all over. She knew it was bad, but she had no idea how bad.

We took him in to get blood tests. They sent us home but immediately called us back in.

I scurried to get us quickly packed up, but I didn't come out of the nursery. Mike came in to see what was taking so long and saw me just staring at Gareth's new dresser full of baby clothes. Tiny shirts, pants, hats, socks—all green and yellow because we had not known if we were having a boy or a girl. "I can't pick out the clothes our baby might die in," was all I could say.

Gareth was jaundiced. We tell people that, and they say, "Oh, yes, so was my child." Sixty percent of babies have some jaundice shortly after being born. Jaundice is caused by a high bilirubin count, which, in turn, is caused by the newborn's inability to break down red blood cells properly. A bilirubin count above 10 is usually easily treated.

At Gareth's age, a number above 15 would mean he was in the high-risk group for kernicterus, which causes loss of hearing and permanent brain damage. A blood transfusion is usually performed in this case. The highest our doctors and nurses had seen was 28. Gareth's count was 38.

In the emergency room they placed my tiny baby under blue lights and informed us that we would no longer be able to hold him. Tubes were inserted and monitors were set up as the doctor told us that Gareth had kernicterus, was probably deaf already and that we would just have to wait and see how much brain damage had already occurred.

Our minister came in right around then and anointed Gareth. At the time, I just could not believe his words of encouragement, his words about how God cares so much for all of us, especially the smallest and weakest and how everything really would be all right. All I could hear was that Gareth was screaming in a very high pitch—one of the first signs of permanent brain damage. And I wasn't allowed to hold him.

It is so hard to explain to somebody who has never had a baby how attached you become the instant they enter your arms, your life, your soul. I had only had Gareth for two days. Yet.

You may be thinking now that I was being facetious when I called this my best Feast ever. But here's the thing. I had no idea how much suffering was in the world and how much it twists and crushes and destroys the human heart until this Feast. I had never really known pain before. I had never really appreciated why it was so necessary for Christ to return. Now I know.

God's message to me was clear, and there is no way I will ever forget it. My husband and I heard few sermons during the Feast of 2007. We had very little fellowship with the brethren besides family members who came to visit us. Our fine food and drink came from a hospital cafeteria. And you could certainly consider a hospital room a temporary dwelling!

At the beginning of the third day of the Feast of Tabernacles, Gareth had a double volume blood transfusion, which means at the end of the process he only had ten percent of his own blood. Mike and I had to sign a sheet saying we understood that this could mean diseases, other issues I cannot remember now or death. We read a lot of Psalms that day and a bit of Isaiah.

About 24 hours after the transfusion, some caring family members sent us home to get some sleep. We were away from the hospital about four hours. In that time, we cried, we prayed and then we tried to rest.

I woke up about an hour later to find Mike frantically throwing our blankets around the room. "Where's Gareth? Where's Gareth?" he kept asking. "Where's my son?" I gently woke him from his nightmare, only to realize we were in a real one. We held each other, cried some more but didn't really sleep that night.

The fourth day we were able to hold Gareth for small amounts at a time. Then a lady came with a hearing test for infants and gave us the whole spiel about how, even if the results were quite bad, it was still possible for Gareth to gain some hearing later on. The human brain is incredible after all.

God is incredible after all.

He promises that some day He will take away the pain; He will wipe away every tear. That includes all the parents who have lost their little ones or who have seen their helpless babies undergo pain and suffering.

Gareth's hearing test came back totally normal, but what that really indicated was that there was no brain damage at all. The doctors and nurses said it had to be a miracle. He had been completely healed.

That was the best Feast ever. UN