News of Karl Dear all, God is good. Your prayers, your faith, your offers of help, your gentleness, your weeping, all minister to me and to those who loved Bill, love Karl, and love this family. The good news is that there is no bad news, with even a bit of authentic good news to throw in. Karl has stabilized, his pupils are reacting, and he is receiving significantly less medication for his circulation. Slowly but ever so surely they are weaning him from his anesthesia. From the beginning they have said that scientifically speaking, there is no way that he can hear me, but when watching the monitor, his values do indeed react to my voice. Every night before bed, I would tell him a variation of the Jonah story, a version which would send shudders down the spines of my OT professors, for Jonah wanted to go to Tarshish because of all of the water slides, play houses, swings, bratwurst, pretzels and ice cream he could eat. The point, however, is that this story calms him now. As there is more and more of a chance that Karl is aware, I have been telling this story almost unceasingly! Please remember, however, that we have no idea how long it will be until Karl really does wake up, or, unfortunately, even if. Therefore hope is a valuable commodity amongst the communion of the saints, these days. As but one example of the love extended to us, our former neighbor just happens to be a neuro-surgical nurse. Joe and I were talking over Karl right before the operation to remove his skull, and I asked whether Karl's own bones could be frozen and reused when he is up to the reconstructive surgery. Joe explained that they used to do this, but couldn't, anymore. After the surgery, the neurosurgeon who operated on Karl immediately following the accident (who, coincidentally, is a friend of ours, and has a son Karl's age--and is married to a Scot, and so he speaks perfect English) mentioned in passing that Karl's skull bones had been frozen. "How so?" I asked. "Joe said that that was impossible." "Well," replied Ralf, "Joe called all around during Karl's surgery, and found somewhere to deep-freeze them after all." God is good. Another short story. A beautiful nurse has taken to calling Karl "Karly." I smiled at her, and told her how much it meant to me that she had a nickname for my little boy. "Yes," she said, "he has become Karly to us all." And then she smiled, and walked out quickly with tears in her eyes. God is good. A correction: Diane is *Bill's* sister, not Else's. Forgive my lapses! And the South Dakota synod has posted the pictures of Bill, Karl, and Else, which some were able to receive, and some not. Please go to http://faculty.augie.edu/~reynolds/Madsenphotos.jpg. Again, we are so grateful for your prayers, and crave them ever so much. You are blessings to Karl, Else, and me, and to my extended family as well. I am convinced that this horrible tragedy is somehow serving as a witness to God's strength, to God's "Mitwirkung," that is, God's presence in the midst of tragedy, and to the hope which that engenders. Take that, Satan. You will not win this day. Peace, Anna P.S. This note was written early this morning. I waited to send it until I got the "freshest" of news, which is that little boy Karl is moving his eyelids, a reflex, a wonderful, wonderful sign. I am sure that since seeing his eyes for the very first time--and Else's too, of course!-- I have never beheld such a blessed sight. Later today, he even coughed as they were suctioning his lungs. There is reason to hope, to be sure. I am sorry that I do not have time to reply individually to each of your kind notes--I will, but need to get Karl on the mend first. I thank those who have sent flowers--someone from "SF," presumably Sioux Falls, sent a beautiful bouquet, but the name was not on the card. If you know who sent the flowers, please let me know. I have been asked about memorials. I have not had time to think about where they should go, but will let you know ASAP. Blessings to you all.