Selah’s Story

Editor’s Note: Perhaps you were one of the thousands who prayed for little Selah when her accident happened and she was put on prayer chains encircling the world. I was one of those who prayed—contacted half a world away by her military family at Aviano. But then recently I had the unexpected honor of meeting beautiful Selah and her courageous parents. Here is “Selah’s Story,” written by her mother, and shared with a grateful heart for all who prayed for their family. P.S. You can leave a comment below if you wish to contact the Sledge family.

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I waited patiently for the LORD; He turned to me and heard my cry. — Psalm 40:1

My husband and I had the privilege of being stationed at Aviano Air Base in northern Italy beginning the summer of 2008 until tragedy struck our family two years later. Living in Italy felt like a dream come true, and we frequently pinched ourselves at our new lives in the breathtakingly beautiful country. While overseas we formed close-knit bonds with fellow Americans who attended a small military ministry church with us. We had no idea how important those relationships would be during what would become the hardest part of our lives.

In January of 2010, over a long MLK weekend, we took a trip to a famous pottery town with our five year old daughter Selah and our six week old baby Stella. It was our first venture out with the new baby and unknowingly it was to be our last enjoyable adventure in Italy.

The following Tuesday Selah was eager to get back to her kindergarten class. On that particularly cold morning, as I prepared to walk my daughter to her bus stop, I remember in my post-partum exhaustion fumbling with coats, mittens and flashlights. We hurriedly made our way in the dark, my daughter holding a flashlight while I struggled to hold the baby and a blanket I had wrapped over me in place of my coat. As we neared the end of the road and prepared to cross the busy street, I turned my head left and as I turned my head right to see if the road was clear… Selah ran into the road at full speed. In that split second I screamed for her but it was too late, she was hit by a car and her small body flew through the air and landed in the middle of the road.

In utter panic I ran to her and saw that her eyes were blank. Although I didn’t know it at the time, she was already in a coma. I managed somehow in my desperation to first call my husband at work and then my pastor. Thankfully an Italian passerby called for an ambulance and helped redirect traffic. The minutes waiting for the ambulance seemed like hours. I remember vividly looking up and seeing Selah’s school bus slowly veer around her still body, her classmates faces looking down on us. When the ambulance arrived we sat and waited for 30 minutes while the paramedics decided what to do. They were unfriendly and unemotional and gave us no update on how she was. She was finally airlifted to a hospital in Trieste which was two hours north of the base on the Slovenian border.

Once we arrived at the hospital the news was grim. Because of the language barrier the Italian doctors could not give us much information. The only thing they said when we arrived was it was not good and they didn’t know if she would survive. When we saw her the first time she was badly bruised and unrecognizable with tubes coming out of her brain and her collapsed lung. It felt unreal. I kept waiting to wake up from the nightmare.

My pastor made his way to the hospital and sat with us in the trauma waiting room offering words and prayers at the right moments. A kind Italian nurse named Christina took my six week old baby that first day, and fed her and rocked her. My grief was too heavy to nurture her.

We had to ask permission to be allowed to see Selah in the ICU. Often we would only be granted a few minutes at a time. We would sing her favorite songs and pray and hope that somehow she was able to hear us. Some days we couldn’t see her at all. Our friends would camp alongside us outside the door all day crying and praying for hours on end.

Through the long days we clung to God and we felt Him overwhelmingly comfort us even in the smallest ways. Every night after a long day of sitting in the waiting room we would retreat to our hostel and find comfort in The Book of Psalms and David Crowder’s song “All Around Me.” One particular Psalm that brought us immense peace was Psalm 107:20, which says, “He sent out His word and healed them; He rescued them from the grave.” I clung to those words even through my unbelief.

Our days were filled with phone calls from home, visits from church family, our pastor, and my husband’s commanders. A week after the accident as I was heading to the hospital for my last visit of the day, I was suddenly overcome by the thought of being alone that night. I desperately wanted someone or something to distract me from the enormous pain I was in. As I stood alone on the stairwell of the hospital, I felt God’s overwhelming presence telling me that I had to cling to Him and that He was the only way to get through.

Prayers poured in for Selah from all over the globe. Many things happened that we might have before overlooked, but in our situation we knew could only be attributed to God. Italian strangers who had presumably heard of our story from American relatives showed up at our door with dinner. Friends and strangers brought us food, diapers, baby formula and changes of clothes. A dear friend from church, Dayna, gave me enormous comfort. Despite the fact that her husband was deployed and she had four kids, she would brave the four hour journey through the winding, snowy streets to see us almost daily. Her encouragement got me through the hardest days when I wanted to lie down and die.

After a couple of weeks at the trauma center Selah was transferred to a children’s hospital in Trieste. It was a good distance away from the hospitality house where we were currently living. My heart broke at the thought of not being able to be near her. Then the very day Selah moved, a room became available at a hostel run by nuns next door to the children’s hospital. One kind nun who spoke no English comforted me over and over with the word “patzienza” meaning patience. I had to have patience, I believe she meant, and God would heal Selah’s brain.

A kind Slovenian utility worker in the hospital who saw me weeping one day walked over and asked in Italian if I was Christian. I said “Yes” and he gave me a candle telling me also that I must have patience. These acts of kindness were so endearing because the Italian nurses and doctors were often cold and spoke very little to us. They never offered us words of comfort about Selah’s condition.  I could write an entire book on the ways in which God comforted us during this time. Even then it wouldn’t be enough because we saw His presence in every minute of every day.

When Selah was taken out of the medically induced coma a few weeks later she was not the same. She could not walk or talk or control her muscles. Her eyes had changed. She was no longer the vibrant little girl who especially loved horses. One day when we had almost lost hope and believed she might be in a vegetative state the rest of her life, we decided to play her favorite song from the movie “Spirit.” As we played it her face lit up and she began to laugh, a sound we hadn’t heard in weeks. It was the first time we had any indication that she was still herself. To this day I get teary eyed listening to that song. My prayer for Selah began to be for restoration.

At the end of February 2010 Selah was medically evacuated to San Antonio and began her long road to recovery. She remained in the hospital until April of 2010 and received outpatient therapy services for a year and half. Selah suffered a traumatic brain injury and now walks with a slight limp. It’s possible she will have life-long memory problems. However, I never dwell on her being different and neither does she. We are too grateful to God to ever feel sorry for where she is. She has no memory of her accident or the months following, but she loves to tell people about her miracle story. She is still just as passionate about horses as she ever was and is able to ride at a therapeutic riding center near our new duty station.

My own healing has been sometimes a daily prayer to find peace and not give in to constant fear that tragedy will strike again. Only by the grace of God was I able to fully forgive myself for letting her slip out of my hand in that split second.

The man who hit Selah was an African immigrant on his way to work one morning. He and I prayed over her body in the street and I’ve never seen him again. When I tell Selah’s story usually people’s first response is, “I hope the person who hit her had to pay.” I’ve often prayed for him and hoped that somehow he knows that she was healed and that we have no anger towards him. I think he has had to pay enough with his memories.

I am beyond thankful for my church and military brothers and sisters who cried and prayed and uplifted my family. As I go through the rest of my life I am comforted knowing that when terrible things happen God will take care of our every need—from our basic needs of feeding us and giving us warm clothes to giving us a place to rest our weary heads. He also sends us loving people to comfort us in our darkest places, and binds up our broken hearts and sorrows. He will be our strength when we feel like giving up, and when we are ready He asks us to share our stories to uplift our brothers and sisters in Christ. “Let the redeemed of the LORD tell their story” — Psalm 107:2

Questions to Share:

1.  Would you tell a story of God’s protection and provision in your life to your spouse which perhaps they did not know?

2. Would you share a story of God’s protection and provision in your life with someone who needs that encouragement?