I have worked as a registered nurse for over ten years. I have also been an LVN since 2001. Most of my career I spent in long-term care. I held the hands of elderly people as they took their last breath. I comforted families who could not let go. I thought I understood suffering. Then my own son Jordan arrived early. He weighed only two pounds. He fit in the palm of my hand. And I found myself on the other side of the hospital bed.
That experience changed everything. It also taught me something that nursing school could never provide. The science of medicine and the presence of God do not fight each other. They work together. One explains the how. The other reveals the who. In my book “He Who Never Leaves Us,” I write about this lesson. I want every person who feels alone in a hospital room to know that God never leaves. Not even when the machines beep and the doctors look worried.
Let me take you back to the neonatal intensive care unit. I call it the NICCU. The room held a sea of tiny babies. Each one fought for life inside a plastic box. Each parent sat in a hard chair with hollow eyes. I sat among them. I could barely see because preeclampsia had stolen most of my eyesight. I could only look out of the corners of my eyes. But I could hear the machines. I could smell the antiseptic. And I could feel the fear.
As a nurse, I knew the statistics. I knew how easily a two-pound baby could fade away. My medical training told me to prepare for the worst. But something else inside me refused to let go of hope. That something was God. He did not promise me that Jordan would survive. He promised me that He would stay no matter what happened. That promise became my anchor.
One day in that NICCU, a nurse said something cruel. She talked about vouchers and money. She implied that mothers like me only came for the financial help. I felt my face get hot. But God gave me calm. I looked at her and said in a gentle voice, “No one wants one hundred dollars to watch their child suffer.” She apologized right away. That moment taught me that God gives His people the right words at the right time. I did not plan that response. He did.
I have watched many premature babies fight for life. Some of them won. Some of them did not. As a nurse, I saw both outcomes. As a mother, I experienced the terror of not knowing. But as a woman of faith, I learned that God does not measure His love by the outcome. He measures His love by His presence. He stayed with me in that NICCU. He stayed with the mothers whose babies did not make it home. He never leaves. That is the core message of my book “He Who Never Leaves Us.”
My nursing background gives me a unique perspective. I understand the human body. I understand disease and medicine and the limits of what doctors can do. I also understand that miracles happen. I do not mean miracles that break the laws of science. I mean miracles where a baby takes a breath when no one expected it. I mean miracles where a mother finds strength she did not know she had. I mean miracles where a nurse says the right thing at the right time. Those are not accidents. Those are God.
Connie Cleaver wrote “He Who Never Leaves Us” to share these truths. She does not pretend that faith makes suffering disappear. She knows better. She has held dying patients. She has watched families sob in hallways. But she has also felt the peace that comes when God sits beside you in the hard chair. That peace does not remove the pain. It carries you through the pain. That is what I learned as a nurse. That is what I learned as a mother.
Many people think that science and faith cannot coexist. They believe you must choose between medicine and miracles. I reject that false choice. God created the human body. He designed the heart to beat and the lungs to breathe. He also designed the minds of doctors and nurses. Every time a premature baby survives, I see both. I see the skill of the medical team. And I see the hand of the God who said, “Not yet. This child still has work to do.”
Jordan survived. He grew from two pounds into a healthy boy. I cannot explain that with science alone. Science told me the odds were against him. But God wrote a different story. That story appears in “He Who Never Leaves Us” by Connie Cleaver. I did not write that book to impress anyone. I wrote it because other mothers sit in NICCU chairs right now. Other nurses feel exhausted and doubting. Other single parents wonder if God has forgotten them. He has not.
If you work in health care, you have seen things that shake your faith. You have watched good people die young. You have watched bad people live long. You have asked God why. I have asked that question too. I still do not have a full answer. But I have learned to trust the One who holds the answer. He does not owe me an explanation. He owes me His presence. And He gives that freely every single day.
Let me leave you with this. The next time you find yourself in a hospital room, look around. You will see skilled hands and beeping machines. You will see charts and medications. Do not reject those things. They are gifts from God. But also look for something else. Look for the peace that does not make sense. Look for the calm in the middle of chaos. That is God. He never leaves. Not even in the NICCU. If you are sitting in a hospital room or fighting a battle that feels too heavy, read “He Who Never Leaves Us” by Connie Cleaver tonight. Let a nurse and a mother show you that God does not abandon His people. Open the book. Find your hope again.
