By
Bridgette Barwick
As told to Pat Banta Kreml

Just before my son, Brayden, turned two, the devil tried to destroy his life. It began with a shopping trip to the Dollar Tree in Haines City. Brayden tottered along beside me in the store exploring everything, as little ones will. When I finished shopping we stopped for ice-cream—which Brayden licked and slurped with great relish—then I drove home. Just an ordinary day. Nothing in his behavior warned me of what was to come.
“We’re home now, Bray.” I chatted with him as I popped up the arms of the car seat. But instead of raising his little arms for me to pick him up, he toppled out of the seat head first on to the floorboard.
“Brayden, are you alright, sweetie?” I stood him up, but his legs hung limp. He couldn’t stand, he couldn’t sit, he couldn’t talk. His eyes glazed over. I don’t think he knew who I was or where he was. I’d never seen him like this before and it scared me. I ran him into the house and called his doctor immediately. The blood pounded in my ears as I held on to my baby’s limp body and waited for Dr. Kline to answer. Help me Jesus, I prayed.
“Did he get into any of your prescription drugs or over-the-counter medication?” the doctor asked.
“No, sir”
“What about cleaning products or chemicals you might have lying around the house?”
“No, sir. I keep everything out of reach.”
After a few more questions, Dr. Kline suggested I bring Brayden to Kinder Clinic at Winter Haven Hospital to get checked out. By the time I got him there, he was back to normal. The whole episode had lasted only fifteen or twenty minutes. After another round of the same questions about pills and chemicals, Dr. Kline sent us home. He couldn’t find anything wrong.
“I don’t know what to tell you,” he said. “If it happens again, just bring him back.”
My pulse returned to normal, and I thanked the Lord and sang praises to Him all the way home. But my relief was short lived. Two days later we were watching a Psalty the Singing Song Book video. Brayden danced to the music, flapping his arms as he sang along in his little boy voice. All of a sudden he lost coordination, wobbled, then fell forward. His eyes glazed over again and he starred ahead unseeing.
“Help me, Lord Jesus,” I prayed aloud for all the devils and demons to hear. This time I didn’t waste time calling, I rushed Brayden over to Dr. Kline’s office, praying all the way. By the time we arrived, Brayden was back to normal.
“I have no explanation for this. All I can tell you is just keep an eye on him,” Dr. Kline said.
By then I knew something was terribly wrong. There was no obvious reason for these episodes. I recognized the devil’s hand at work, and I knew that prayer was my first line of defense. I called my parents—old-time, solid Pentecostal prayer warriors—and they agreed with me for Brayden’s healing. There were several more episodes over the next few weeks, but my parents and I stood our ground in prayer.
The final showdown came about ten o’clock one night. Brayden had another episode, and I called Dr. Kline again. This time he asked, “Did he vomit?”
“Well, no,” I said. “He never vomits.” No sooner had I put down the phone when Brayden vomited all over the living room floor. I called back, and this time Dr. Kline’s voice sounded grave. “I strongly suggest you get Brayden to the Arnold Palmer Children’s Hospital in Orlando as fast as possible. His words had the same effect on me as if he’d said, “You have breast cancer.” Cold fear tried to take hold of my heart, but I couldn’t let that happen. My baby’s life was at stake. Now was not the time to waver between fear and faith.
I picked up my little boy and ran to the car. My husband got behind the wheel and peeled out for all he was worth. The tires squealed and I’m sure the revved engine made the neighbors wonder if we’d lost our minds, but I didn’t care. I held my baby tight against me, his little body limp in my arms. My husband turned on the emergency lights, and drove as fast as he could. When we reached I-4, he floored it, and we drove so fast everything outside became a blur.
“Lord Jesus, we need a miracle. Heal my baby,” I prayed. I knew the Lord was with me, but I still felt fear closing in on me. All the what-if’s tried to ensnare me and choke out my faith. What if Brayden dies before we can get help? Even if we do get to the hospital in time, what if there’s nothing they can do for him? It’s times like these that all you can do is call on the name of Jesus, and that’s exactly what I did.
When we reached the ER, Brayden was taken in immediately, and sent for a CAT Scan.
Meanwhile, a doctor came out and started asking the same old round of questions about medicines, household chemicals, and the kind of water we drank. At some point, the questions became a bit more probing.
“Has you son had a fall recently? Maybe accidently hit is head?”
“No, sir,” I said.
“ Was he dropped as a baby?
“No, sir.”
“How about you, Mrs. Barwick? When you were pregnant did you have a…fall, or maybe received a blow to the abdomen?”
“NO!” I said. I realized they were wondering if Brayden or I had been abused. How could they think such a thing? “There’s no reason we know of for Brayden’s symptoms,” I said. “That’s why we’re here.”
Finally they left us to wait for the CAT Scan results. My husband and I sat in the waiting room shaking as much from worry and fear as the over-active air conditioning. When the doctor finally came out, I knew he had bad news.
“Mrs. Barwick, you need to sit down,” he said.
Before I could respond, he showed us the pictures of the brain scan. “You see this spot right here?” He pointed to a rather large black spot. “Your child has a dead spot at the back of his brain about the size of two eggs put together. We don’t know what caused it or what kind of long term effects it will have on him.”
My body went numb. I lost all feeling in my legs and slumped to the floor. I just sat there and cried hysterically. It was too much to take in. My beautiful little boy’s brain had a dead spot? How could this have happened? What would it mean to his future? Questions blew through my mind like a March storm that tears lose anything unstable and scatters it in a million different directions. Pray! We needed to pray, but I knew we needed help. I called my dad first. “Pray for a miracle,” I said. “Call everyone you can think of who knows how to pray, and we will too.”
Within the hour, prayer warriors all over Florida and Kentucky interceded in one accord for little Brayden. My emotions remained unstable and raw, but deep in my heart, strength grew. I could feel the support of corporate prayer.
Brayden was admitted that night to ICU with limited visitors. Over the next few weeks he underwent a battery of tests including an MRI. He was examined by hematologists, neurologists, and several teams of doctors, but no one could figure out what caused the spells or brain damage. Their best guess was that he had mini-strokes. “We’re not sure if your child will have any further brain damage. His vision and speech may be effected. You should prepare yourself for the fact that he may have learning disabilities as well,” the doctor said.
Thank God by then we had been bathed in prayer. The strength of God rose up against the evil report, and I stood on God’s Word. I proved out the scripture that says God’s strength is made perfect in our weakness, and I believe the battle for Brayden’s life and health was won that day. He never had another spell the whole time he was hospitalized. In fact he was the healthiest child in ICU.
Finally, the doctors put him on baby aspirin and seizure medication—which we weaned him off of six months later—and released him. Today, Brayden is a healthy 7 year-old with no speech or hearing impairment, and only a slight problem with peripheral vision in his left eye. He is 100% healed. No brain damage, no special needs. In fact, he is at the top of his class in reading and math. He is living proof of the power of corporate prayer. To God be the glory.


Bridgette Barwick is the mother of two and works full time as a rural mail carrier. Music is an important part of her life, and she is a long-standing member of the Winter Haven Worship Center Choir and Praise Team.