Stepping out on faith

By CALLIE CLARK MILLER

Southeast Missourian

Part 1 - The little girl who could

Tiffani's Story

Tiffani Murray of Doniphan, Mo., has been diagnosed with non-Hodgkin's lymphoma. (Submitted photo)

DONIPHAN, Mo. -- Vegetables don't cry. When Glenda Murray saw her daughter's tears, that was her first thought.

In the ICU at Children's Hospital in St. Louis, Tiffani Murray was lifeless. Except for the tears that flowed down her cheeks whenever a family member spoke to her. To Glenda Murray, the tears were a sign that her daughter was still there, hidden beneath the tangle of cords, tubes and wires, within the bruised flesh and beneath the crushed bone. Her daughter knew her voice. In her sedated state, Tiffani could only communicate through her tears. But she wasn't completely brain dead.

Not long after 12-year-old Tiffani was diagnosed with non-Hodgkin's lymphoma, she crawled into bed with her mom and explained that she'd talked to God, and he'd promised he wasn't ready for her yet. She wasn't going to die.

Over the past two years, the calls have been so razor-blade close that the line between life and death has become blurry, even been crossed. So far, though, he'd kept his promise. Tiffani was on life support, but she was alive.

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Denver Jackson went to last week's ministerial alliance meeting with a problem. Construction of the Murrays' home was well underway but would soon reach a stopping point with no resources to purchase trusses for the roof. The ministers at the meeting all agreed: Order the trusses. The Lord would provide.

The next day, someone donated the $4,500 to buy the trusses.

There are about 40 churches within a 15-mile radius of Doniphan. The town of 1,900 people in Ripley County is faith-based, like most of the small communities that dot Southeast Missouri. And when it comes to stories like Tiffani's, it doesn't matter which faith. The idea to build a home for the Murrays stemmed from a spring meeting of the local ministerial alliance; the community as a whole quickly adopted the project.

Which is why, during the hottest month of the year, you'll find a group of people gathered at a corner lot on Berry Street, swinging hammers and operating saws. For free.

Everything involved in the construction of the three-bedroom, two-bathroom house has been donated, mostly by local business and individuals. The two lots the home is being built on were given by someone in a local church who heard Tiffani's story. Earth work, concrete work, even the furniture that will eventually fill the finished rooms has been donated. And it's coming together quickly; project organizations hope to have it completed by the start of school in August.

Family friend Cliff Barbee, one of the project volunteers, sums it up best: "The neatest thing about this project is the way this community's come together. We've stepped out on faith several times and people have come through where it's needed."

And beyond.

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Tiffani Murray spent seven days in the ICU, five on life support after her heart stopped beating for about 58 minutes in late January. Unsure of how much brain damage a lack of oxygen had caused, one of the first things Glenda Murray asked her daughter when she came to was whether she knew her own name. Tiffani did.

She also knew the lyrics to her favorite song, Nicole Mullen's "My Redeemer Lives." She sang it softly for her mom. She knew her address. She could even do multiplication. The effects of the brain damage were far less extensive than Glenda and 16-year-old Katelyn Murray, Tiffani's sister, had originally feared. At first doctors told the family Tiffani may never talk, walk or be able to feed herself again. The talking comes and goes. Something as simple as saying "God bless you" when someone in the room sneezes is OK; getting her mouth to form sentences that require more thought is nearly impossible now.

In April, Tiffani celebrated her 12th birthday on the ninth floor of Children's Hospital. Her days focus on rehabilitation: learning to reuse her legs and arms, learning to speak again. After six months in the hospital, she made her first trip home two weeks ago.

Signs along the Doniphan streets welcomed her home. She received a police escort into town. She spent time with family and friends but was plagued by severe muscle cramps. By July 2 Tiffani's fever tipped over 106 degrees. She was rushed back to Children's, where Glenda Murray learned that her daughter had developed two severe infections.

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People in the community of Doniphan describe Glenda Murray as a rock. The single mom has a good reason to hold it together: her two daughters.

But Tuesday night, Glenda was scared. She was alone at the hospital in St. Louis, thinking about her little girl's steady decline. That Tiffani grew weaker and less responsive each day was obvious to Glenda. Her pastor at His Place in Doniphan was too far away to reach on such short notice; Glenda called in a St. Louis pastor who'd prayed with Tiffani before.

The pastor came Wednesday morning, performing the laying on of hands as Glenda had requested. That same day, doctors told Glenda they'd found a third infection -- this time in Tiffani's kidneys.

At that point, it became clear to Glenda that Tiffani's release from Children's -- scheduled for Friday -- isn't likely to happen. She won't be going home just yet; won't see the new house being constructed for her.

But her family has seen her overcome the impossible too many times to give up hope now. In physical therapy, Tiffani has managed to wiggle her right leg, the one doctors originally said she might lose because of the life support. She's also managed complete sentences at times, despite doctors' warnings that she could never talk again.

"One night, she woke up suddenly, told Mom, 'I love you. Good night. Don't let the bed bugs bite,'" Katelynn Murray said. "The doctors have stopped talking now. They say she's a very unpredictable child."

Bob Miller contributed to this report.

Editor's note: This story was reported through interviews with Glenda Murray, Katelynn Murray, Cathy Neel and Dr. Shalini Shenoy, a pediatric oncologist at Children's Hospital in St. Louis. Children's Hospital denied the Southeast Missourian's requests to interview Dr. Jeff Bernowski. Writer Bob Miller's father serves on the ministerial alliance in Doniphan, the organization through which the house project began.

WANT TO HELP?

Donations can be sent to

Tiffani's Miracle Makeover

P.O. Box 202

Doniphan, Mo., 63936

All donations exceeding the cost of the house will go to the family.