It’s a sunny July day. Kids are riding bikes. Climbing trees. Little League teams are yelling “Hey batta batta!” And Morgan is in a step-down unit from the ICU.
Morgan is a college freshman. She is pretty, smart, and redheaded—so you know she’s trouble.
She is a student at the University of Alabama at Birmingham. She made the president’s list last year. Which is impressive when you consider that Morgan is epileptic, diabetic, and has paralysis on the left side of her body; her left hand doesn’t work.
Also, she has low vision, and is nearly blind in one eye. Her intestines are paralyzed, too, so digestion is an issue.
And yet she made the president’s list.
We became friends when I wrote about her a few years ago. She’s soft spoken. She’s always smiling. And she has an Alabama drawl that sounds like ribbon cane syrup.
A few days ago, Morgan sent me this text:
“I’ve been in the hospital for the last six days, with no discharge date in sight.”
The doctors can’t figure out the cause. They can’t get her ketones down. On top of it all, the paralysis of her stomach has worsened, so doctors are trying to come up with a plan.
Morgan’s text finished with: “It’s been pretty rough but I’m making it!”
She ended her message with a heart emoji. She always closes texts with a heart emoji. Her last name is, after all, Love.
Since then, I’ve had my friends praying. Since then, she has had more tests. Since then, they did a scope to see what was going on inside her gastrointestinal tract.
“I have erosions and inflammation… Still high ketones. It’s been a busy but productive day! Also, my sorority sisters stopped by which was sweet!”
Heart emoji.
Yesterday, six Delta Gamma sisters surprised her with a visit. Multiple sisters have been coming all week. The halls of UAB hospital have sounded like Spring Break 2024.
“Delta Gamma has been super supportive through it all,” Morgan texted.
Heart emoji.
This morning, Morgan hung a miniature cross on her hospital IV stand. The cross is multicolored, made of cardboard paper. Her siblings colored it for her. In the center is the word “Jesus.”
Her family has been spending nights in her hospital room, leaving her bedside only to eat.
An optimist like Morgan would never admit what I’m about to tell you: But this is hard. This is really, really hard.
Even so, Morgan will not tell you about all the tears. She will not tell you about the heart-stopping fear. She will not—not even once—complain.
And that’s why I’m writing this.
I don’t know who you are, reading this, or even IF you are still reading. I wouldn’t blame you if you gave up after the first poorly written paragraph.
But IF you are reading, and IF you have some time, and IF you feel like sending a card to someone who could use encouragement and prayer, I know a girl who needs some.
I’m not going to request something ridiculous and ask for cards from all 50 U.S. states. Forty-nine U.S. states will be fine.
Send all cards to Morgan Love, c/o Sean Dietrich, P.O. Box 130305, Birmingham, AL 35213.
Heart emoji.
4 comments
stephenpe - July 26, 2024 11:38 pm
What a beautiful story. I will try to get mine out in the mail tomorrow. Praying for Morgan tonight.
Thank you for being her friend, Sean.
MJ - July 27, 2024 1:09 am
Sean, what a caring individual you are. I knew that but couldn’t fathom the extent. You are bottomless.
That’s what makes you so special to me and your audience.
I have just the card for Morgan. 😀
LC - July 28, 2024 12:56 pm
She’s been on my prayer list since I read one of your newsletters a few months ago. Will send cards, maybe from a couple of my groups, too.
Cheryl Crook Thompson - August 1, 2024 4:30 pm
I sent her some Panhellenic love. Though I’m in another sorority and I actually graduated from the rival school, Auburn University, I wanna make sure that we “Sisters” stick together.