chapter 1
At the Crossroads
The straight, empty road was a deadly optical illusion.
The leaves barely clung to the old oaks lining the highway that cool November morning. As Alex and I drove to church in my old Honda Civic, I finally began to relax from the sense of hurry I had felt while getting my oldest son dressed and out the door.
In our family, as in many others, getting organized to go to church involved fighting the forces of chaos. We had already been running late when Alex streaked through the house in his birthday suit to sit and watch a nature show on TV instead of getting dressed, as he had been told to do. No clothes, no breakfast, and, truthfully, no obedience to Mommy all added up to strained nerves and short tempers. But much more than this was going on in our family.
Only the day before, our newborn, Ryan, had come home from the hospital. That put the count at four children, ages six and under. Can anyone truly be ready for four young children? It seemed that the best way to preserve some sense of normalcy was for at least two of us to make it to church that day.
Now, glancing into the rearview mirror, I smiled as Alex’s eyes danced back at me.
“Hey, buddy, I’m glad you’re with me today.”
“Me too, Daddy. This is Daddy-Alex time, isn’t it?”
“That’s right, Alex. Just you and me!”
Alex was my buddy. From the beginning, we had done everything and gone everywhere together. Never too far away were several of Alex’s “Barneys.” Some kids have a fuzzy animal. Some kids have a security blanket. Alex had his “Barneys”—small cloths he liked to chew on. Six-year-old Alex was my oldest of four—four! What a huge number! Now that was going to take some getting used to.
We drove on in silence. As if involuntarily peering into the future, my eyes fixed on the horizon, on a future that seemed filled with equal measures of richness and, frankly, uncertainty. The full weight of the responsibility of being “Daddy” to four young children pressed against me. The deep breath I unwittingly sucked in burst out in a loud exhale. I couldn’t help but think about the medical bills.
We had recently switched medical insurance providers and wouldn’t be covered for pregnancy for a few more months. To arrive without insurance coverage didn’t make our new little boy any less wonderful, but there was no getting around it—it did make his coming brutally expensive.
Leaves blew across the highway, the evidence of a stiffening breeze. The season was changing. Everything was changing—new home, new church, new baby. Seasons—they are natural and good. We were embarking on a new season in our family—another child. It was natural and good too. Things would work out with the money. They always did. The quick refocus brought a sense of reassurance and helped me savor what had happened just yesterday: my beautiful wife, Beth, and I had filled the hours with multiple turns of holding, touching, and cooing over our newborn.
Alex hadn’t wanted to.
“Come here, Alex,” I said. “You’re his big brother. Come hold baby Ryan.”
“Daddy, I don’t really want to. Can I just hold the camera? I’m not into holding babies.”
I studied my oldest child for a moment and traded glances with Beth.
“Sure, Son; here, you hold the camera.”
Who can figure out the mind of a little boy? He’d grow close to baby Ryan in his own time. Why force him?
Pulling into the church parking lot brought me back to the present. Beth and the new baby were now resting at home with Gracie, age two, and Aaron, four, and Alex and I were about to meet some new people. We had only attended this church a few times.
Before I left the car, it struck me in a fresh way how much I really did have to be thankful for, how much I had been blessed, how much I’d been given: we had a new member of our family at the same time we were becoming members of a new church family, having moved to a new home in the country not long before. Even though my psychotherapy private practice had been slow lately, I did have an occupation—unlike many people we knew who were struggling greatly.
But was I truly thankful? Yes, kind of . . . in a general sense. The continual pressure of ever-mounting bills has a way of demanding attention, of obscuring all the good things from view, of distorting the beauty that surrounds us and fills our lives. It’s like an annoying drip from the faucet that you just can’t fix, or in my case, like the piercing screech of a smoke detector, warning of the smaller bills that hadn’t been paid and of the mortgage payment that still hadn’t been sent . . . for the second month. The truth is, the cloud of that financial pressure obscured the beautiful, crisp sunshine of God’s truths for me. Even so, it was Sunday, and on Sunday in our family, you go to church.
With Alex off to his class, I took a seat. I smiled politely at everyone who made eye contact as they looked for seats in the auditorium, but my mind was consumed, again, with an image of our bill basket, which seemed to glare at me every time I walked through the front door at home. The singing stopped, and suddenly I was back in the present with Pastor Gary Brown opening his Bible on the pulpit as he began to speak:
“We have been exploring different aspects of the character of God. God has identified Himself in Scripture by using many names. Today we are considering how God has revealed Himself to us relative to our needs: Jehovah-jireh. Ensuring we have what we need is a responsibility that God takes on Himself, a message He gives by His name, which means, literally, ‘the Lord will provide.’ Let’s be clear: God didn’t say He would provide for all our wants but for things He believes we need. If God has said that our needs are His concern and responsibility, why do we spend so much time being anxious?”
I felt as if there were a bull’s-eye painted on my forehead with a large dart sticking into it. The sermon could have ended right there. My burden, so palpable moments before, was replaced by a lightness of spirit I hadn’t known all morning. This was only my fifth visit to the church, so there was no way Pastor Brown could have consciously tailored his sermon to my situation. My head fell into my hands, and I had to smile at the timeliness of the rebuke. God is the Provider. He knows what I need. I thought again about our bill basket. First thing I’m doing when I get home is tape a big sign on the front of it: God Will Meet Our Needs.
Following the service, I got into a conversation with the children’s pastor. We walked the lawn in the now-pleasant late-autumn air, discussing the vision of the pastor and staff for this church. Alex tried to be patient during this adult conversation. We exchanged glances and smiled at each other, but it was tough for my little guy to endure a conversation that, for him, felt as if it would never end. I leaned down and whispered, “Alex, you’re such a good boy. Let’s find a park on the way home, okay?”
A big grin signaled his approval.
A few minutes later, Alex and I made our way back to the car, now virtually alone in the parking lot. I buckled him into the backseat, but before getting behind the wheel, I let my eyes wander across the pavement to the front doors of the church building. I had come with anxiety and was leaving with hope. How could I not give thanks?
“Remember, Daddy, we have to go to a park!” Alex called as I got in the driver’s seat.
“You bet, Alex. But you have to help me find one. Keep a sharp eye out your window.”
We drove down the road looking for the elusive playground with the intensity of hunters stalking big game.
During the short drive, a cemetery came into view. I had often used the appearance of a cemetery to teach Alex that we each have a spirit. “Hey, look, Alex, a graveyard. What’s in there?”
“Just bodies, Daddy. Graveyards don’t have people, ’cause when they die, their spirits leave their bodies and go to their new home.”
“You got it, Son. Now, where’s that park?”
Before long, Alex shouted, “Look, there’s one. Over there!”
The car had barely stopped before Alex jumped out on a dead run to the ladders, bars, and chutes. It was only a few months back at some burger joint that Alex had lost his nerve on the top of the tube slide. There I was, squeezing my six-foot-two frame through the tunnel—Dad to the rescue! Not anymore. Somehow since then, Alex had transformed into the Daredevil Kid. “Alex, be careful,” I warned. “You’re scaring me. Watch where you’re putting your hands and feet.”
Beth was usually on hand to keep a lid on things, but with her absent, I suddenly felt Alex was taking way too many risks. I had good reason. Alex was already a two-time veteran visitor to the emergency room. On his last visit, I do have to admit that Alex’s timing was good. There I was in emergency, getting Alex stitched up. When the doctor was finished, I passed Alex off to his aunt and hoofed it to the birthing room to be with Beth just before Aaron arrived! The way Alex was swinging, hanging, and balancing now, it was easy to imagine another visit today.
“Daddy, look, no hands!”
“You’re a champ, Alex. Now be careful.” Where was my timid little Alex?
After about fifteen minutes, I started to get antsy, knowing Beth would be wondering where we were.
“Come on, buddy. We’d better get home. Mommy is already wondering what happened to us.”
Between Heaven and Earth
After securing Alex in the seat directly behind mine, I pulled the strap to make sure it was tight. The next challenge was to find our way home through this unfamiliar territory—not that I didn’t know how I got to the church, but finding shortcuts and exploring new roads are all part of the fun of living in a new area. I pulled out onto the road, and a short distance ahead, an intersection came into view. I began dialing my cell phone to let Beth know where we were.
“Hey, Alex, I’ll bet that road will get us home. Let’s take it.” Though a rural road, it was bordered by several ranch-style houses with deep front yards.
Ring . . . Ring . . .
Stopped at the intersection with the phone to my ear, I looked both directions—as always. No oncoming traffic for at least half a mile. What I didn’t know was that at this unfamiliar intersection I was not looking down a perfectly straight half-mile stretch of road. Several hundred yards ahead, just before the road curved off to the left, was a huge dip that obscured anything that might have been there. The straight, empty road was a deadly optical illusion.
“Hey, Beth, how’s it going? . . . Well, I got into a long conversation after the service, and then we found a park, but we’re on our way home now. We should be there . . .”
“Dad, I’m hungry. When are we going to be home?”
I turned to answer Alex while still on the phone with Beth. I pulled into the intersection and then . . .
The deafening crunch of metal ripping metal flashed and then faded into brilliant silence. All was silence.
+ + +
As unconsciousness yielded to confused awareness, my mind strove to bring order from chaos. The meager beginning of a thought forced its way into clarity: Why am I lying in a ditch next to my car? My mind raced. What is going on? With the first light of reason flickering in my still foggy mind, I sat up, bewildered. What had happened? Why was I here? Alex—he was with me, wasn’t he? Where is Alex? Where is my boy?
I do not know how long I was unconscious, but several people had already run from the nearby homes to the accident site. “Lie still. Don’t move,” someone implored. I couldn’t. Every fiber of my heart was screaming, Where is Alex? Now that I was on my feet, everything sounded muffled. I was moving in slow motion, as if I were walking on the bottom of a swimming pool. Over and over I yelled, “Alex, Alex, Alex!” No answer. My heart pounded out a rhythm of fear. The silence fell like a hammer but was soon pierced by the wail of sirens.
Just as my mind was being overthrown by fear, a gentle arm wrapped around my shoulder. I turned to look into the kind eyes of a total stranger.
“You’ve been in a car accident, son. There is a young boy still in the backseat of the car.”
Firemen and policemen swarmed everywhere, concentrating on what used to be my car. Before I had a moment’s thought about what I might find in the backseat, I ran over and looked. An acrid, evil smell violated my senses. Amidst thousands of glass shards, torn upholstery, and twisted metal, there sat my boy, my firstborn son, on whom his mother and father’s dreams rested, still strapped in his seatbelt—still in his church clothes. He’s okay, he’s okay. He’s been knocked unconscious and probably has a concussion, but he’s going to be okay. But in that moment of desperation, what I frantically hoped was no match for harsh reality. And as I continued to stare, dread soon overcame my hope. Blood ran from a gash on Alex’s forehead. And what was wrong with his head? It hung so unnaturally down to the left, bizarrely lower than it should have been. Vacant, hideously bloodshot eyes stared down.
Alex, my son . . . he looks dead! I’ve killed my son.
An immense wave of incredulity, horror, and crushing grief loomed above me, threatening to swallow me. On the other side of the car, the paramedics worked furiously, trying to remove Alex and get him onto a stretcher, all the while attempting to establish an airway in order to get oxygen into his lungs.
Moments later, a senior medical officer consulting with the policeman who was first on the scene said, “We’ll need to contact the coroner’s office and cancel MedFlight.”
“Yes, sir, but the chopper’s already landing.”
Panic stabbed my chest and breath came in short gasps as my mind raced uncontrollably through the mayhem: I’m the cause of all this. Have I killed my son? What about the people in the other car? Where did that car come from? Am I going to jail? Is Alex really dead?
As bystanders gathered around the organized confusion of the rescue effort, shame poured over me—the father who had caused destruction in so many lives. Were all these people secretly condemning me? They were too late. Condemnation had already invaded the very recesses of my heart. Oh God, what have I done?
Fear coursed through my body like an electrical surge. Utterly bewildered as to what to do, I turned when a hand on my right shoulder interrupted my thoughts.
+ + +
I heard a mighty crash at the intersection only a few dozen yards from my front door. I had been a fireman and thought I might be able to help, so I sprinted toward the accident scene. When I arrived, Kevin, whom I didn’t know at the time, was in a daze. People were urging him to sit down, as he was obviously disoriented. I first went up to the other car, but those people all seemed to be okay. I then went over to Kevin’s car and could see that a little boy was in the backseat. I climbed in the back as best I could, but I had no idea if the little boy was dead or alive. I knew enough not to touch his head but placed my hand over his chest. There was no perceptible breathing. I’m a man of faith, so I started praying for this little guy. I also talked to him as if he could hear me, although there was no response. I said, “Hey, little guy, don’t worry.”
And I kept praying.
“You’re going to be all right.”
And I kept praying.
“Don’t be afraid. You just hang in there.”
And I kept praying.
“You’re going to make it, buddy. Help is on the way.”
I didn’t have any indication that Alex was alive, but I kept praying for him and his dad.
Dan Tullis
+ + +
“Sir, we found this cell phone in the car. Would you like to call your wife?”
Beth! Oh, no! She was on the phone with me when the accident occurred. She was still at home with two-day-old baby Ryan and Aaron and Gracie. What was she thinking? What did she hear? While dialing the number, I willed down the rising tightness in my throat.
“Beth.”
“Hello, Kevin?”
But the moment her voice fell on my ear, grief and shame burst out in gasping sobs.
“Oh, Beth, oh, Beth, we’ve been in a terrible accident!” Tears streamed down my face.
“Is he dead?” she asked, her voice low and calm.
+ + +
On the drive down, I remember telling God, “Alex is Yours. If You decide to take him home, that’s okay, but You have to give me the strength to do this.”
Beth Malarkey, Alex’s mom
+ + +
“I don’t know. I don’t know. They’re loading him in a chopper and taking him to Children’s. I’m so sorry, Beth.”
“I’ve got the kids. Let’s just stay focused on what we need to do right now. I’ll meet you at Children’s.”
In the precise mayhem of the rescue effort, I heard someone say, “We’ve got a heartbeat—super weak, but it’s there.” By then Beth had hung up the phone and was gathering the children to make the hour-and-a-half-long trek to Columbus Children’s Hospital.
I ran to the chopper, determined that I was coming on that trip, too, but a strong arm reached out, stopping me.
“Are you the father?” asked a uniformed medic.
“Yes, yes, I am,” I said, trying to surge ahead and board the chopper.
“You’re welcome to ride with us.” But then he hesitated for a moment and looked back over the accident scene.
“Pardon me, but were you in the accident too?”
+ + +
Time is always of the essence, but more so in Alex’s case. When we first assessed Alex at the accident scene, his pupils were fixed (not responding to light), he was not breathing on his own, and it was difficult to feel his pulse. My partner and I knew he was severely injured and thought he would probably die from his injuries. Even so we did our best. On the way to the accident, I had felt in my heart that I needed to pray before we arrived, so I had prayed quietly as we flew to the scene. Now I better understood why.
Once we had Alex on a cot, we carried him back to the helicopter. Kevin asked if he could pray with his son before we left. We told him he could, but he needed to be quick because we really needed to go. Kevin broke down, and we became concerned that his prayer would take too long. I asked him if he was a Christian, and he said he was. I told him the nurse and I were too. I asked him if he believed God wanted to heal his son, and he said he did. I told him that we believed that too. After that, I asked him if he would allow me to pray for his son in the helicopter. He said yes, so we thanked him and left.
Once we got into the helicopter, I quickly laid my hand on Alex’s head and prayed that he would be healed in the name of Jesus. Then I simply thanked the Lord for healing Alex and believed that God was doing what He said He would do in His Word.
I often pray for patients in-flight—not every time, but often.
Dave Knopp, paramedic
+ + +
“Yes, I was driving but came out fine.”
“I’m so sorry, sir, but you can’t come with us then. You need to be examined at our local hospital.”
Panic gripped me again. Not go with Alex? Impossible! I was reduced to begging but didn’t care. “You’ve got to let me go with my son. Really, I’m okay. I’ve got to. Please let me go with Alex . . . please?”
“Sir, I understand how you may be feeling, but right now the best thing you can do for your son is go to the hospital, get checked out, and make sure you’re okay, and let us do what we need to do. Alex is your priority. He’s ours, too.”
“But I’m okay!” I protested. “Look, I’m walking around fine. You’ve got to let me go with him.”
Firmly but respectfully, the paramedic said, “I’m sorry, sir. I have to shut the doors and go now.”
“Oh God, oh God!” I cried out, frantically praying, “Please save my little boy, please . . .” But that’s all I got out as sobs of grief enveloped me.
The first medic looked at his partner and said with tightened jaw, “We have to go now.”
From Alex
I Went to Heaven
Let the children come to me. Don’t stop them! For the Kingdom of God belongs to those who are like these children.
Mark 10:14
Daddy did not see the car coming, but I did. I like to look out the back side window of Daddy’s car, and so that is what I was doing when we started to turn. I was just getting ready to tell him there was a car when we got hit.
For just one second before all of the “action” began, there was a moment of calmness. I remember thinking someone was going to die. When the calm ended, I heard the sound of glass breaking, and I saw Daddy’s feet going out of the car.
Now I thought I knew who was going to die. But then I saw something unbelievably cool. Five angels were carrying Daddy outside the car. Four were carrying his body, and one was supporting his neck and head. The angels were big and muscular, like wrestlers, and they had wings on their backs from their waists to their shoulders. I thought Daddy was dead, but that it was okay because the angels were going to make him okay.
Then I looked to the front passenger seat, and the devil was looking into my eyes. He said, “Yeah, that’s right, your daddy is dead, and it is your fault.” I thought the accident was my fault because I had asked Daddy a question and he turned to answer my question right before the car hit us. I’m not sure whether I watched Daddy from the car or from Heaven. I went to Heaven shortly after the car hit us, but I am not sure of the exact moment I actually left my body. I do know that when I was in Heaven, everything was perfect.
This is what happened in the car after the other car hit us. All of this happened in what seemed to be a few seconds. I heard the sound of shattering glass, and I tried to duck my head to protect myself. As I ducked down, I saw a piece of glass in my thumb. That is when I realized that all of this was real. I tried to bite down on Barney. I felt a pain in my mouth like, maybe, I had bitten through my tongue. I began to feel pain throughout my body. I thought that I would be the next one to die. I thought that there was some fire behind me because my back felt like it was burning. I tried to turn my head toward the back of the car, but there was no fire. I could only see a big black circle, and something smelled really nasty. I felt a bad pain in the back of my head. It felt like a knife stabbing my neck. Then I realized that my head was hanging down to one side and I could not lift it back up.
I tried to call out to my daddy, but I couldn’t hear the sound of my voice. I thought that maybe my hearing wasn’t working. Then I thought the sound of the car hitting us was echoing in my head. With my lips I said, “I love you, Daddy.”
I thought the roof of the car was going to collapse on me. I felt like I was in a plane that was flying on the road. It sounded like a volcano was erupting and coming my way. I saw the two air bags blow up. Daddy flew out of the car right before the air bags came out. The window on the passenger side in the front of the car broke. The backseat was torn up by flying glass. There was glass in my right hand, in my left armpit, in my hair, and in my private place. I knew my eyebrow was cut because blood was dripping down. I knew I was bleeding in my throat, my nose, and my eyes. I felt like I was bleeding in my stomach, too, from the seatbelt.
The fireman cut my seatbelt off because it was jammed. They put something in my throat to make me breathe. While I was on the stretcher, they told me to be strong. They said that I was hurt badly and that I was going to the hospital. They said I was a tough boy.
I went through a long, white tunnel that was very bright. I didn’t like the music in the tunnel; it was really bad music played on instruments with really long strings.
But then I got to Heaven, and there was powerful music, and I loved it.
When I arrived in Heaven, the same five angels who had helped Daddy out of the car were there. They comforted me. Daddy was in Heaven too. The angels stayed with me so Daddy could be alone with God. Daddy had bad injuries like mine, but God was healing him in Heaven to bring glory to Himself—that’s what God told me later. Daddy asked God if he could trade places with me, but God said no. God said He would heal me later on earth to bring more glory to His name.
After God said no to Daddy, Daddy’s spirit returned to his body next to our smashed car. I could see Daddy from Heaven, lying in the ditch next to our car.1