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uncontrollably faded and shut down.
    There is nothing more we can do
, they reminded themselves again before falling fast asleep. The tears they knew they had left were too weak to fall.
    One calm, steady beep invaded David’s dream three hours later and shot him straight up.
    “What’s going on?” he asked, rubbing his eyes, letting them focus from the bright light of the room. He couldn’t believe he had fallen asleep.
    His voice jolted Sherry from her sleep as he threw a question at a nurse who was calmly checking on their daughter. “How is she doing?”
    “She’s stable and hardly on any meds,” said the nurse, who had apparently taken over the calm of the storm that had occurred just a few hours before. “She’s ready for her transplant today. They’ll take her back to surgery around 3:00 p.m.”
    David just looked at Sherry, any hope of understanding gone.
    “It was that prayer,” he said quietly.
    “It sure was.”
    They spent the day by Tatum’s side, talking to her though they knew she couldn’t hear, stroking her hair though they knew she couldn’t feel, until 3:00 p.m., when doctors arrived to take her to surgery. David and Sherry kissed Tatum’s face as many times as they could before she was wheeled through the doors of the operating room.
    Seven hours later, they got the news from Dr. Randall that the transplant was over, it was a perfect fit, and the new liver was already producing bile.
    Rumble and boom from a furious lightning storm would have gone unnoticed in the wake of the thunderous applause that escaped the waiting room.
    When Sherry and David finally got to see Tatum, Sherry whispered, “It’s almost time to wake her up.” Her eyes uncontrollably filled with tears and in the peaceful quiet of the room where Tatum lay, perfectly still and just as perfectly healthy, the ordeal somehow seemed as though it had never happened.
    After a few hours, David, Sherry, and Gay stood over Tatum as her eyes fluttered open for the first time in several days. Watching his daughter’s eyes open filled David’s with tears, and he wasn’t ashamed to let them fall. Sherry, on the other side of Tatum, held her hand tightly and cried with her husband as their little girl looked between them, her wide eyes searching for answers. A single tear dropped and slid slowly down her right cheek.
    “It’s okay, baby,” Sherry managed. “You’re at the hospital. You were very sick, but you’re okay now. Mommy and Daddy are here. There’s nothing to be afraid of. Everything is okay.”
    “Don’t talk, sweetie,” she continued as Tatum tried to open hermouth to spit out a million questions. “The machine is breathing for you. You can talk later. You’re okay, though, I promise. You’re going to be just fine.”
    David took over and Sherry called her friend Karen, who was now watching Hannah. Sherry told Karen that Tatum was awake and asked her to bring Hannah to the hospital to see her sister. Sherry sat the prayer pager, which buzzed every five minutes, next to Tatum, who stared at it with confusion. Sherry explained that the world had been praying for her. The pager continued buzzing “143” for the next three days. During those three days, David and Sherry did not leave Tatum’s side. They took turns sleeping on the couch while the other sat on a stool next to her bed, holding and rubbing her hand.
    “How long have you been a teacher?” one nurse asked Sherry while filling Tatum’s IV with meds.
    “Seven years,” she said.
    “What grade do you teach?”
    “Sixth-grade math and science.”
    “I bet it’s a lot of fun,” the nurse said.
    “Yes, I love it. It keeps me young,” Sherry replied.
    The small talk comforted Tatum. It brought normalcy to her hospital room, to her life. Confined to a bed with metal rails in a place that smelled like ammonia and Band-Aids made her cry.
    “Are you in pain?” Sherry asked.
    Tatum moved her head back and forth slightly. The nurses made sure to