Brody’s Story, Our Story

Photo: LCMS Communications

Some of the best things in life are right under our noses. True to form, one of these most life-affirming stories is happening right here in Southwest Wyoming. When Kemmerer’s Sabrina Montgomery appeared on the Mother’s Day episode of the Today Show (5/13/15), people all over America learned the story of Brody. Let me tell it to you.

The story began at Christmas, 2011. Nobody knew it yet, but the special gift named Brody had already come into the world. As the Mongomery's pastor, I knew of it early on. He did not show his face for the first time until August, the following year. As with all birthdays, his was both exhilarating and emotional. Like all kids, he was cute and cuddly. But he was also something more. 

Nobody could quite place their finger on it. Were his eyes like his mother’s? We weren’t quite sure.

It wasn’t until his 4-month checkup that the Doctor began to see enough signs to say it: Down syndrome. Downs is a diagnosis, not a disease. It is a special genetic arrangement found in about 1 out of 700 children born today. It used to be more common. But just before the Supreme Court legalized abortion, doctors developed a prenatal test for Down syndrome. Since then, about 90% of the people conceived with this condition never make it to birth.

It’s these prevailing and irrational attitudes that made the diagnosis feel like a punch in the gut. With no preparation, no time to adjust, no gradual dawning, the hopes and visions for the future were changed in the blink of an eye. They weren’t changed for the worse. They were just changed. But clarity on that point didn’t come immediately.

Clarity on this point was one of the first gifts that Brody brought to his family and his entire community. Let’s face it. We are conditioned to fear Down syndrome, and treat it like a disease. But Brody has caused all of us who love him to question our assumptions. Who says it’s a ‘disorder’? Different? Yes. Slower to learn some things? Yes. But he is perfectly ordered. Nothing needs to be “fixed.” His body, mind and spirit are a masterpiece in their own right.

Brody is exactly as he is supposed to be. He is not just ‘disabled,’ He is also ‘enabled.’ His cognitive and motor slowness in comparison to his peers only serves to highlight our own slowness to love and laugh. As his father put it, “He has never met a stranger.” If I were given a choice between his physical handicaps and my emotional handicaps, there’s a very real possibility I would trade my abilities for his.

As we learned these lessons, there was still more to come. Soon after the discovery of his Downs, doctors found a life-threatening heart condition. Early optimism about repairing it, gave way to the sad news from the best doctors at Children’s Primary that there is, “nothing we can do.” 

We were told that the strains on his heart would grow more severe until it simply couldn’t keep up with the body’s needs and he would die. He would probably make it to his second birthday. But almost certainly would not live past five. This diagnosis, in itself, was like a death. But in that death we found new life.

While his parents looked for treatments to heal the heart, days were filled with doctors, diagnostics, and decisions. But once every option was cleared from the table, peace replaced anxieties. And in that peace, we all found a new purpose. 

Brody’s life, while short, was given as our temporary gift. He was to be cherished and enjoyed, not fixed, not mourned, not desperately clung to, just enjoyed. Here was his second great gift to us. Because while we learned this lesson about Brody, we immediately saw that it was true of every other person in our lives. 

None of the people in your life are permanent fixtures. Each comes with an expiration date. While we can and should care for them as much as resources allow, we are never in control. Our Maker, alone, has the power over life and death. We are only given to love those He has given.

Once this lesson was learned, Brody surprised us again. Through an unlikely series of connections, a doctor in Boston asked to have a second look at Brody’s heart. This doctor, on the cutting edge of open heart surgery, then announced, we can do something for him after all!

The surgery lasted four and a half hours. And the scar runs from his neck to his abdomen. But his heart is no longer his greatest handicap, but his strongest asset. He pinked up and started growing, learning, and developing like he never had before.

But then, Brody’s story took a new turn. On the very same day that Brody’s post-op exam found him in perfect health, his mother, in another room at the same hospital was diagnosed with breast cancer – stage 3a.

Now the tables were turned. Only months ago, Brody was likely to die before his mother. Now, his mother was likely to die before him. And so, once again began the painful and uncertain task of battling death. Radical surgery, radiation, and chemo-therapy each played their part.

Then, while she was beginning the most intensive and extensive course of chemo-therapy for her cancer, Brody’s story took yet another turn. A routine cold turned nastier than usual. The initial signs of R.S.V. were overlooked. By the time they were noticed, a life-flight from Gillette to Children’s Primary in Salt Lake City was his only hope. 

On the way, he was placed into a coma and hooked up to machines which would be his lungs for the next three weeks. It was a piteous sight to see this little boy splayed out on bed and hooked up to a dozen or so medications and numerous beeping monitors. 

As his lungs filled with fluid and complications mounted upon complication, hope faded. His heart stopped for several minutes while an army of physicians bustled about to get it restarted. Children in nearby rooms were succumbing to the same virus that was attacking his little body. It looked grim.

But what should we do in the face of life? Give up? Pull the plug? Stop fighting? To do this would be to stop reading the book before the story ends. We learn at such moments that we are not the authors of our stories. If we are reading the last chapter, we will never know it until the final page. And often, what we think is the last chapter is only the beginning. 

Who can say? Our lives lie in the hands of Another. This much is certain. Here is the undeniable reality that brings all of us human beings to the same place: You are not the author of your story. It is being written by Another. Some call the author Fate or Chance, others call it Life, most simply call Him God. But all acknowledge that someone else is in the driver’s seat.

Brody’s parents knew this too. They knew, as the doctors did, that no matter how advanced the medical care, no matter how hard the doctors and nurses fought for his life, no matter now strong or weak his body was, no matter how overwhelming the odds, whether he lived or died would totally depend upon the Author of Life. And because of their Christian faith, they were confident that Brody’s Author would write a beautiful story. 

As it turns out, Brody walked out of the hospital and his mother was pronounced cancer free. After a remarkable recovery, he is as healthy as any other 4-year-old. That’s when his story first went national on the Today Show in 2015. Recently, it just went national again. This time, it is being shared around the internet under the hashtag #eyesoflife. You can see photos and more of the story at eyesoflife.org.

As he celebrates his fourth birthday, we still don’t know whether we are in the opening chapters or the last ones. But, then, we don’t know that about our own lives either. We only know that our story is being written by another. Your life too, no less than Brody’s life, is a beautiful and exciting story. I hope that the lessons we learned from Brody can help you read your own story in a new light.


Further Resources:
Today Show, (5/15/13): Amazing Mom...
Eyes of Life.org: Sabrina