Nothing...ABSOLUTELY NOTHING...happens by accident. There are NO coincidences! My mother has told me this throughout my life, and I mostly believed her. In church I sang, 'He's got the whole world in His hands', but I probably thought that He lets a few issues just slip between His fingers. I mean...holding the WHOLE WORLD...is a pretty big job. There are a lot of us (humans) running around making a big mess. How can we expect for God to always clean up behind us? In 1993, God eternally changed my opinion.
1993 was a tumultuous year for my family. We abruptly moved from Rocky Mount to Raleigh (NC) to assist my mother-in-law with her real estate transactions. She had made several large real estate investments and was in over her head. Without a second thought, we packed up and ran to her rescue...moving into one of her investment properties.
Four months later...after remodeling and selling that home...we planned to move into another investment property...a home she had purchased sight-unseen at a tax auction. Although it was immaculate on the outside, it was completely uninhabitable. Our move was delayed, and we were forced to make other plans very quickly. Since we only needed a place to live for about six weeks, we decided to move in with my mother.
Despite the fact that my mother's home is quite small, she graciously opened her arms to us. All four of us moved into her spare room and settled in for six weeks of intense family bonding...whether we liked it or not. I must admit that I did not!
A week after my family moved in with my mother, my sixteen year-old nephew, Stevie Jr., also moved in. His parents were going through a bitter separation, and he wanted to get away from his home. Like everyone else did in times of trouble, he turned to my mother...his grandmother.
Being packed in my mother's home like sardines is not what I would have chosen to do, had God asked my opinion. He didn't, so there we were. After a while, we even began to enjoy the closeness. It had been years since I had spent quality time with my nephew, as he had grown up in a town several hours away from me. Throughout his life, I had only seen him at holiday celebrations. Living in the same home with him gave me the opportunity to really get to know him...to know his heart...to understand the pain he was carrying and the reasons he was running away from God.
At night, he and I would have long conversations about 'stuff'...life, girls, friends, education...eternity. When I asked him about his relationship with God, he told me that God had disappointed him (because Stevie had prayed for his family to stay together)...that he was not 'ready' for a relationship with God. He confided to me that he wished he could be like the 'good kids' in my youth group, but he felt that he had 'gone too far'...that God could not possibly forgive him. I remember exactly what I said to him..."Stevie, you have not gone too far. Jesus loves you so much. You need to see Him for who He really is...not who everyone else has told you He is. Forget about what your parents have done to hurt you. Forget about what you have done to hurt yourself. Just look into Jesus' face...and you will know that you can trust Him. When you do that...you'll see the truth...and nothing else will matter." As I spoke, I saw the tears well up in his eyes. I knew he heard me...really heard me...but he did not choose to let go of his pain that night.
About a week after that conversation with Stevie, we moved into the investment property. It was far from finished, but we were anxious to get out of my mother's home. As soon as we were settled in, we went on a much-needed, weekend getaway. We did not tell anyone where we were going...not even my mother. We rented a bunch of kiddie movies, bought lots of junk food and promised ourselves that we would do nothing...NOTHING...except be together as a family for a whole weekend.
At the time, our girls were two and six years old. Avery, the oldest, was particularly fond of talking on the phone. Since there was a ridiculous charge for all outgoing calls, I made my girls promise that they would NOT use the phone. I convinced them to make that promise by telling them that we were on a secret mission...that we were 'undercover'. They loved the game, and I guaranteed that I would not have a $300 phone bill for the weekend. It was a win-win!
After our first day of fun and adventure, my girls were exhausted. I tucked them into bed and told them a story to end the day. Lying with them, I began to have a strange, unsettled feeling that I could not ignore. Attempting to relax, I took a long, hot bath...but the feeling intensified. I reasoned that I, too, was exhausted and just needed sleep. I went to bed, but I could not sleep. Something was wrong...so very wrong...but I had no idea what it could be. I prayed...asking God for peace...asking Him to calm my spirit and allow me to rest. Rest never came. I tossed and turned all night...until I finally dozed off around 6am.
From deep in my sleep, I heard a voice. I awoke...listening closely to hear what the voice was saying. It was Avery...she was on the phone. Annoyed by her disobedience, I ran to the phone. Without words, she handed the phone to me. The unfamiliar voice on the other end told me that my family had been searching for me all night...that I needed to come home immediately...that something very bad had happened. I insisted on knowing details, even though she warned me that it was too horrible to talk about on the phone. There was a moment of silence, and then I heard my mother's voice. She said, "Beth, honey, please come home. Stevie Jr. was shot last night, and he is brain-dead."
Stunned beyond any human words...I ran out of the condo screaming unrecognizable sounds. My pain was so intense that I could not hold it inside. When Stevie and my family needed me the most, I had not been there for them. How would I ever be able to forgive myself.
The hour drive to the hospital seemed like days...my mind racing with unanswered questions. How had this horrible thing happened? Why Stevie? Who would have killed a happy-go-lucky, sixteen year-old kid?
When I arrived at Duke University Medical Center, I jumped out of my car and ran through the halls. As I turned the corner of his floor and saw the halls lined with friends and family, fear gripped me. I searched their faces for answers, but there were only more questions. I found one of my brothers, and he ushered me back into the intensive care unit. (In North Carolina, when someone is the victim of a violent crime...the hospital is required to observe them for 24 hours before disconnecting life support and pronouncing death. At that moment, I did not know about that law.)
Walking into Stevie's room, I wanted to be strong for my family. However, I was not prepared for what I saw. Stevie Jr. was unrecognizably swollen and bruised. His chest was violently rising and falling...the respirator attempting to 'breathe' life into his body. With each thrust, blood spurted out of his mouth. Since he was only there for observation, the nurses made no attempt to clean his body.
Finding courage somewhere deep within myself, I slowly made my way to his side. As I reached out to touch him, I prayed for understanding...for forgiveness...for strength...to hold on or to let go. He did not seem gone to me...although the doctors and nurses insisted that he was. I felt something...or I hoped...hoped that I would have one more minute to tell him how much I loved him...how much Jesus loved him. He was not ready to die...he had admitted to me that he was not ready to accept Jesus' forgiveness. ::Oh God! What if...what if he had never had a chance?::
As I was standing by Stevie's bed, a doctor came into his room. He said..."I don't want to give you hope...there is no hope...he will die...but we have detected three brain waves. One is telling him to go to sleep...to die. Another is telling him to wake up...to live. And...he can hear..." Before the words were completely out of his mouth, I said..."What did you say? He can hear us?" He replied, "Yes...on some level...he can hear you. I can't tell you how long this will last...probably only a few hours...but YES HE CAN HEAR YOU!"
I turned to look at my oldest brother, Stevie's father. Although my brother was not a Christian, he knew that God had given us another chance. We embraced hard, and he whispered in my ear..."Beth, I need you to help me. I am so full of hatred right now. I don't want Stevie to feel my hatred...I want him to feel love." I understood what he was asking of me...even though he did not speak the words. He was acknowledging that Stevie needed something that he could not give him...something that he did not have to give...Jesus.
The following twenty-four hours was an emotional roller coaster. Every few hours, the nurses would check on Stevie, but they were only going through the motions. To them, he was nothing more than a corpse. As I sat by his side, reading the Bible aloud and singing to him, I KNEW that Stevie was still there in that room with me. I also KNEW that he could hear me, and I was determined that he would KNOW that he was not alone.
Hour after hour passed...and finally a new day was born. The doctor came and once again announced that...although he could not explain how...Stevie Jr. was still fighting for his life...he still had all three brain waves. He again cautioned us against hope...stating that there was NO chance for Stevie to recover...but he could not hide his astonishment that Stevie's brain was still alive.
Another day came and went...and Stevie's condition remained unchanged. He was in a deep coma...on life support...his young body so badly broken from the violent beating he had received prior to being shot (execution style) in the back of his head. On this day, the doctor warned us that...if by some miracle Stevie were to 'live'...he would be a 'vegetable' for the remainder of his life...that he would never be 'normal' again. By this time, we had learned (from Stevie's best friend, Jon) what had occurred the night of the shooting.
Stevie had been home in bed when Jon called, asking for a ride home from work. My mother took the call and told Jon that Stevie was already asleep...that she did not want to wake him. Stevie overheard her talking and awoke. Being a good friend, he got up out of bed and went to pick up Jon. According to Jon, he convinced Stevie to stop on the way home so that Jon could buy some drugs. They went to the bad area of town and found a dealer on the street. When they stopped to buy the drugs, other guys with guns surrounded the car. Stevie and Jon recognized the boys from school and told them that they would cooperate. One of the boys told Stevie to give him his wallet. Stevie told him that he only had $3.00...to take the money and give him back his drivers license. At that comment, the boy became irate...jerked Stevie from the car and began kicking him to the ground. With help from another guy, he placed Stevie on his knees and put a gun to the back of his head. He asked the crowd if he should 'do him', and the crowd cheered loudly. A shot rang out, and Stevie was lying face down on the ground. The guy who was holding Jon released him, and everyone else fled the scene. Terrified and believing that Stevie was dead, Jon jumped in Stevie's car and drove away to find help.
Ironically, there was a police officer just one block away...taking a statement from another gentleman who had been robbed five minutes earlier, by the same gang of guys. By the time the police officer arrived and called an ambulance, Stevie was already presumed dead. When the paramedic examined Stevie, he confirmed that Stevie was, in fact, brain-dead.
The thought...the image of Stevie Jr. lying face down on that street...dying all alone...was more than my heart could take. I was determined that he would NEVER be alone again, as long as he was still alive...even if by only three brain waves. Day and night, I stayed with him...singing 'Amazing Grace' and other songs of faith. I talked to him for hours...reminding him of my special memories of him as a little boy. I also talked to him about Heaven. I told him that we wanted and needed him here with us...but that he had to be ready to meet Jesus...if it was his time. Over and over, I told him to look for Jesus' face..that ALL of his fear would vanish as soon as he saw Jesus' face.
Sometime in the middle of the third night, as I was talking to Stevie about Jesus, everything changed. I first noticed the expression on his face change...it softened. Then, I realized that he was no longer violently convulsing. Peace fell over him...over his room. The nurse even commented to me that the room felt so peaceful. I KNEW that Stevie had seen Jesus' face. I JUST KNEW. 
That same night, after three days at the hospital without sleep or a shower, I went home to take a shower and change clothes. For the first time in those three days, I felt that everything was going to be okay. I knew that...whatever happened...Stevie was ready.
After a quick shower and sitting a few minutes with my sleeping daughters, I jumped in my car to head back to the hospital. As I was waiting for the car to warm up, I thought that I should get some music to take back to the hospital. My voice was almost gone from three days of constant use...and I smiled as I thought "Stevie might be tired of hearing me by now anyway." I ran back inside and rummaged through a packed box of cassette tapes, in a dark room, grabbing the first tapes my hands touched. Back in my dark car, I tossed the tapes into the glovebox and drove as fast as possible back to the hospital.
Upon arriving at the hospital, I learned that Stevie's condition had taken a turn for the worse. His organs were shutting down, and the nurse suggested that I gather the family for a 'good-bye'. I did as she said, and throughout the day, family members came into his room and had a time of 'letting go'. Every hour of that same day, the nurses checked his vital signs and would comment, in disbelief, that he was still 'hanging on'.
For forty-eight hours...Stevie Jr. fought desperately for his life. Against all medical comprehension...beyond all human understanding...he 'held on'. At the end of the fifth day...as his immediate family (my mother, his father, his sister and I) stood around his bed...I saw the pain in his face. At that moment, I realized that Stevie was fighting for us...because we had been telling him how much we needed him...pushing him to 'fight'.
In that moment of realization, I leaned down and held him as close to me as I could. In a soft voice, I said..."Stevie, I know that you are fighting to live for us...because you don't want to hurt us. But you don't need to worry about us anymore, Stevie...we are going to be okay. We love you so much, but IF you want to go home to be with Jesus...just go." At the exact moment that I said, "just go"...Stevie's heart suddenly stopped. On October 29, 1993...Steven Lawrence Crain, Jr. met Jesus face-to-face.
Three days later, after leaving Stevie's funeral, I was sitting in my car alone...crying uncontrollably...thinking about how much Stevie had suffered in his few years on this earth. I KNEW that he would never suffer again, but I still could not deal with the image of him lying on that cold, hard street...dying alone. Suddenly, I had a thought...to look in the glovebox. I opened it and saw the three cassette tapes I had intended to play for Stevie.
One of them immediatey caught my attention...brand new...still wrapped in cellophane...and something I had never seen. Studying it, I saw that it was a sample cassette with only two songs. I must have received it as a free gift with the purchase of some other cassettes. Curiously...I opened the cassette and placed it in the player. As I heard this song...these words...for the first time...I wept healing tears..........
My prayers have all been answered, I've finally arrived
The healing that had been delayed has now been realized
No one's in a hurry, there's no schedule to keep
We're all enjoying Jesus, just sitting at His feet
My light and temporary trials have worked out for my good
To know it brought Him glory when I misunderstood
Though we've had our sorrows, they can never compare
What Jesus has in store for us no language can share
If you could see me now, I'm walking streets of gold
If you could see me now, I'm standing tall and whole
If you could see me now, you'd know I've seen His face
If you could see me now, you know the pain's erased
You wouldn't want me to ever leave this perfect place
If you could only see me now
Written and Posted by:
Elizabeth Nieves - Broker, REALTOR® -- The Elizabeth Nieves Realty Group @ Keller Williams (A Bilingual Real Estate Team serving Raleigh, Durham, Chapel Hill NC and surrounding areas.)
Visit our website at www.ElizabethNieves.com
Elizabeth - Congratulations!! I knew when I read your post originally about Stevie it was a heartfelt winner all the way around! I wanted to share with you one of my favorite artist's Greg Olsen and his painting 
Wow what an amazing story. How tragic for Stevie. He is walking the golden road now. God Bless.