Support Network

Imagine waking up to a message that someone you love is in trouble—and realizing you might be one of a few who can help. In moments like these, every second feels stretched, and your heart races as you scramble for answers. This is what happened to my family not long ago, reminding me just how vital it is to have a support system ready when you need it most.

It was just after sunrise on Monday when a ripple of worry made its way through our family. My brother, still groggy from sleep, finally checked his phone and discovered a voicemail from our mom—a quiet, urgent plea for help. She needed a ride to Urgent Care because my dad was struggling to breathe, and she herself felt too dizzy to drive. My brother’s heart sank as he realized he hadn’t heard the message in time, and by the time he reached out to the rest of us, none of us had any news. Our parents, never ones to keep their cell phones close, had left us in a nerve-wracking silence. In that tense gap, we frantically tried to piece together what was happening. Thankfully, my sister’s foresight from years earlier—attaching an AirTag to their keychain—became our lifeline. Watching that tiny blip on the screen move to Urgent Care was the first breath of relief we’d had all morning, proof that at least they had made it to get help.

My siblings rushed to Urgent Care, hearts pounding, anxious for any scrap of news as they watched doctors and nurses surround our dad. The sterile smell of antiseptic filled the air, mingling with the soft murmur of medical staff. Every moment felt painfully slow as we waited for answers. When the doctor finally emerged, his face sober but gentle, he explained that my dad had suffered a Transient Ischemic Attack (TIA)—a mini stroke. The news brought a flood of memories; my dad had experienced a TIA years ago, followed by a full stroke, but this was the first since that major event eleven years prior. The doctor emphasized how serious this episode was, especially given my dad’s age, and urged us to seek help immediately if symptoms ever returned. After careful monitoring and treatment, my dad was finally cleared to go home.

Just when things seemed to be returning to normal, another wave of crisis hit us. Two days later, at the gray edge of dawn, my sister texted us: our mom had just called 911. My dad was struggling to breathe again—worse this time—and my mom, acting with the instincts of someone who’d been through this before, wasted not a second in calling for an ambulance. The fear that gripped me was immediate, making my thoughts race. I paced the room, phone in hand, desperate for any update. Not knowing what else to do, I began to pray in my heavenly language, pouring out my worry and hope with every word. I reached out to everyone I knew—friends, family, old church members—casting a net of prayer that stretched from our neighborhood to cities across the country and even to friends overseas. I needed every prayer I could get, every ounce of support, because the situation felt so precarious. Yet even in the midst of panic, I drew comfort from the knowledge that so many were standing with us, lifting my dad up in faith. My nerves were raw, but hope shone through the anxiety, steady and persistent.

Arriving at the ER, the world felt suspended as we waited for any sign from the medical team. We stayed patiently in the waiting room for any kind of report.  We took turns visiting with my dad.  Finally, when it was my turn to check, a nurse approached with a reassuring smile—my dad’s test results were normal. His lungs, once the source of so much fear, now sounded clear and strong. A nurse even joked that my dad’s lungs sounded better than his own, despite the nurse being nearly thirty years younger. Relief washed over us in waves, mingling with soft tears. It felt like a miracle. Deep down, I was certain that this outcome was the result of the prayers and support pouring in from so many different corners of our lives. There was simply no other explanation.

Later that same day, my dad was finally able to return home. Although he was still visibly drained from the ordeal, his breathing had improved significantly compared to when he was first admitted. We watched him closely, offering comfort and monitoring every small sign of progress, grateful for the stability that now replaced our earlier panic.

I share this experience to highlight just how critical it is to have a dependable support network in place, especially when life takes an unexpected turn. In moments of crisis, being able to reach out for both prayer and practical help can make all the difference—not only in the outcome, but in how you bear the emotional weight of an emergency. Make sure you have people you trust whom you can contact at a moment’s notice. For me, that meant a group of close family and friends who responded quickly through text messages, offering both their prayers and their presence. I rarely use social media, so instead, I rely on those long-standing personal connections, knowing that every message sent is met with genuine care and intercession. These relationships became a lifeline, bringing comfort, encouragement, and tangible support when we needed it most. If you haven’t already built a prayer circle, don’t wait until a crisis to start. Take time now to strengthen those bonds, because in the most challenging moments, your community will hold you up.