Remember when Caleb was young—when we were just a young family with little children, figuring out life together.
We were happy. Life was fun. We served in the Church, and our two young boys were our life. We’d go on walks and bike rides, and we were building a house and a family together.
Then one Mother’s Day, we were driving down to my parents’ house.
In the back of the minivan, something wasn’t right. Caleb was having a seizure. We stopped the car, I gave him a priesthood blessing, and we rushed him to urgent care. As a father, I was terrified. My firstborn son had lost control of his body.
In college, I had a roommate, Jon “Squelch” Jaster, who also had seizures and passed away at age 24 as result of them. I was scared. I was terrified. My firstborn son—my number one buddy—had a serious health condition. We went to Primary Children’s Hospital, he had the tests and scans, and our ADD kid who could never sit still was “good as gold” for the MRI, holding perfectly still like a statue.
The doctors told us there would likely be more, and there were.
One night, after he had just gone to bed, he had another seizure and was paralyzed. He couldn’t move his arms.
I placed my hands on his head, called upon the powers of heaven by the authority of the priesthood, and with the faith of a loving father, blessed him that he would be healed.
Before I even finished the prayer, he said, “Dad, you can stop now,” as he lifted his arms and could move them again.
The faith of our child and the power of the priesthood were both at work in that little miracle.