It was an unusually beautiful day for mid February in Michigan...warm, sunny, and clear pavement, where snow normally sat inches high. The allure to spend some time outside skateboarding and hanging with his friends was compelling. So, 21-year-old rapper Seth Alfaro, headed out the door with a smile on his face, ready to scout locations for his next music video, with some of his friends.
The sunset was absolutely amazing that night and was a welcome reprieve from the winter’s normal dark and gloomy skies. Seth, known for his creative and artistic eye, knew that the view from higher up would be even more spectacular. Scaling up to the roof of the old two-story building was an easy feat for Seth and one of his friends. They were very athletic and accomplished climbers, and had often been on the tops of buildings, billboards or, unbeknownst to their parents, arenas and skyscrapers as well.
From their perch, they watched the sun shed its last glorious rays and sink below the horizon. They decided to continue their scout, and make the jump down to the attached roof of the neighboring building, some 8 feet below. It was an easy jump, or it would’ve been under normal circumstances. But, the roof immediately gave way on impact, sending Seth hurtling 25 feet downward on a collision course with the concrete floor.
His friends watched in horror as Seth disappeared from sight. The one left on the roof shined his phone flashlight down through the gaping hole to reveal Seth, crumpled, face down on the cement, surrounded by rusty old machine parts, with blood pooling around his head.
Stunned and in shock, they broke into the building to reach him. What had just happened? They expected Seth to sit up and laugh it all off. They called his name repeatedly and turned him over, hoping to rouse him. But he lay there unmoving, unresponsive. Strange, strangled sounds, more animal than human, came from deep in his throat as the last remaining air in his lungs eerily escaped. And, to their utter dismay, no new air took its place. Seth wasn’t breathing...
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It was a typical night in the Alfaro home. Dinner was finished and the kids were scattered around the house doing homework. Then came a frantic, loud pounding on the door--Seth’s Mother, Christine, related it to something you’d see in a movie. With her heart lodged in her throat, she made a mental check of each of her children’s whereabouts before opening the door. They were all accounted for--safe at home--except for Seth, but he had his key. She hurried to the door. When she saw the police officer and the expression on her face, Christine’s heart plummeted to her stomach. “Your son, Seth Alfaro,” said the officer, “has been in a serious accident. Follow me!”
Screaming for her husband, she raced out the door. They left their other children without explanation and rushed to the hospital under police escort, unsure of whether they would find their son dead or alive.
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A panicked call to 911. Paramedics rushing to Seth’s side, resuscitating him, working hard to save his life. Lights flashing and sirens blaring through the night as the ambulance sped to the hospital. Parents on the way. Friends in shock. A life hanging in the balance.
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Ushered into a small, quiet room where they were told a social worker would talk to them, they tried to keep hope, while their minds immediately jumped to the worst case scenario. A social worker? Not a doctor? That couldn’t be good. Seth was dead. A parent’s worst nightmare and they were living it...again. Oh, they’d been here before. They were not new to grief and loss. They had already buried four of their babies. But now, they were anxiously waiting to hear if the same fate had befallen their beloved grown son. They sat in silence, shaking, tears running unchecked down their faces. Their son had left the house just hours before so happy, so full of life, and now….
The wait seemed unending to them as they sat with their oldest son, Michael, who had rushed to the hospital to meet them. He, too, couldn’t help but remember the past and the funerals and the little coffins. Seth had better pull through this...and if he did, Michael thought to himself, he’d kill him for doing something so stupid and putting himself in danger. In reality, he’d hug him, then put him in a headlock.
The social worker never came.
Instead, a trauma doctor who had been working on Seth came and sat in front of them. Gravely, Dr. Gibson told them that Seth had fallen 25 feet through a roof onto concrete, and had sustained a severe brain injury with bleeding in his brain. He said that nothing could be done about the damage that had already occurred. Their job was to keep Seth alive and to keep the swelling in his brain down to prevent further damage.
“Could he die from this?” Christine shakily asked. “Yes,” was his response. “Yes, he could.” The next 24 hours would be critical and it would be up to Seth what happened.
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The first few hours were chaotic as doctors worked to stabilize Seth. More tests were run and more and more machines and monitors appeared as Seth was intubated and hooked up to life support. All the while, doctors were constantly trying to get him to respond, “Seth, open your eyes. Seth wiggle your thumb.” But their commands and the family’s pleas went unanswered as Seth remained totally unresponsive. They were told that a response from Seth in the first few hours was crucial. The family watched in horror as the minutes turned to hours. And then, to their discouragement and dismay, after hours of trying to rouse him with no success, Seth was put into a medically induced coma to help reduce the chance of further injury to his battered brain. A hole was then drilled into his skull, so that a wire could be put into his brain to monitor his intra cranial pressure (ICP).
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Days passed as Seth’s parents, siblings and family sat in his cold and dark hospital room, silent, unmoving. Praying constantly, but isolated and alone in their own thoughts. Seth required absolute silence and darkness to prevent any kind of stimulation. The doctors no longer asked or expected Seth to respond and his family was asked not to talk to him at all. The room was freezing because Seth had a dangerously high fever and lay under ice blankets as the staff tried to control it. Sitting in their winter coats, their thoughts kept beat with the rhythm of the machines keeping Seth alive, and the rise and fall of his chest.
Although normally very private people, about 30 hours into their vigil, Seth’s parents reached out to Christine’s sister Kathy, who had been begging to post on Facebook and other social media platforms, asking for prayers. Reluctantly, but desperate for help, they agreed. And thus began the first of many miracles in Seth’s journey as people from near and far...family, friends and total strangers...began to pray for him.
As people around the world prayed for Seth, and his family sat ever vigilant praying at his bedside, Seth’s spirit was far removed from the seemingly lifeless body in that hospital room. As Seths’ father Chris, and mother Christine, begged God to save their son’s life, unbeknownst to them, God was renewing and saving his soul.
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All he could feel was LOVE...God’s love and peace totally surrounding him and overflowing through him. It was a love unlike anything he’d ever felt before. It was indescribable and filled him with unspeakable joy. He knew God was with him. He felt His presence. He heard His words...not spoken aloud, but as if imprinted on his soul. The veil, the veil between him and God was so thin, like paper, not even like cloth. A single breath could move it. He knew that a touch of God’s hand could heal him.
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Seth had been raised in a loving, faith-filled home, but the call to be famous and a great rapper, along with the lifestyle that is often associated with that world, held great allure. He immersed himself in the culture. His attitude, words, even patterns of speech changed so much, that his parents told him that sometimes they barely recognized him. He wanted to be famous more than anything. Fame and fortune and success and all that came with it invaded his thoughts and dominated his dreams. He would do whatever he needed to, to make his dreams become his reality.
The longer he spent within the rap culture, the more he felt the pull and the trappings of that lifestyle drawing him in. It was a dark and shallow world filled with parties, drugs, girls...and empty promises.
Despite his initial resistance, the rap culture had dug its claws into his soul, unraveling the foundations of his faith and warping his perspective and relationships.
But, he’d be okay. He just needed God to look the other way for awhile. Then he’d get his faith back on track...someday.
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Seth was young and fit, athletic, a certified personal trainer, and always on the go. Now, to those who saw him, he was merely a shadow of himself, pale, unmoving, and wasting away.
As the critical 24 hours turned into 72 hours and then five to seven days, with the pressure in his brain continuing to rise, the family and a huge and growing body of prayer warriors from around the world, stormed the heavens for Seth’s life and healing.
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Seth found himself in a long line. He had never seen a line this long in his life. It didn’t even make sense how long it was. And, somewhere, far ahead, the line was moving toward the light.
Frightened, Seth realized where he was. He was in the judgement line. And although it was unbelievably long, the line was moving rapidly. Suddenly he could see all the times in his life that he could’ve chosen God and His way, but hadn’t. And he was scared. Really scared.
*As he watched the line moving at such a quick pace, he received a revelation. When you die, God isn’t judging you, “Ummm...let me see...heaven or hell….” There is no debate, no discussion. God already knows where you are going because you have already made the choice, by how you lived your life while on earth. Seth didn’t feel like he had chosen to live his life for heaven. He didn’t feel worthy of heaven at all. He was afraid he was going to go to hell. And he was terrified.
Fortunately, he never got to the end of the line.
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There were many complications. A spiking fever. Rising ICP numbers.
Every time the doctors tried to put in a tracheostomy, a procedure they told Chris and Christine would help Seth’s chances of survival, something happened to delay the procedure. The family was disheartened. Exhausted. Afraid. Their Seth lay battered and broken, silent and unmoving. The silence overwhelmed them and left them isolated and alone. It was broken only by their tumbling, frantic thoughts and pleas, along with the constant beeping of the monitors and the buzzing and hissing of the ventilator and machines keeping their son alive.
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He began to hear it...the beeping of monitors and the buzzing of machines. And he saw himself lying in a hospital bed, with tubes and wires sticking out of his body. But, he wasn’t there, he was somehow above it all, as if seeing himself from a bird’s eye view.
He was tired. So tired. He was close to death. Somehow, he knew it. It was as if he was trying to keep himself awake and all he would need to do was close his eyes, and death would come. It would be that simple. Just close his eyes and die. He was so tired of fighting.
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Day 5 was a particularly hard day for Seth and his family. That night Seth’s Aunt Kathy couldn’t sleep and felt compelled to post. It was 3 a.m. EST, but she figured someone might be up to read her latest plea for prayers. The next morning, a woman named Amy Oatley, whom none of the family had ever met, posted in the comments section that she had awakened at that exact time and had asked God whom she was supposed to pray for. She fell back asleep and had a dream/vision of hundreds of people in Seth’s room, on their knees in prayer, begging God to save him. She said there were so many people that they flowed out into several rooms. When she awoke, it was all so vivid and real that she wondered how the hospital could have let that many people in. Another woman, further down in the comments, said she experienced the exact same thing at the same time. Later, Chris and Christine would learn of other friends who had had the same experience, on the same night, at the exact same time.
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Seth saw his room and it was full of people. There were hundreds and hundreds of people all down on their knees praying for him. So many people that they spilled out and overflowed into five other hospital rooms. They were all praying for him. People he knew, and people he didn’t know. He felt the power of their prayers...actually felt the power course through him. The power of those prayers gave him the strength he needed to keep fighting. Seth begged God for his life...just 30 seconds more...just one minute more. The power kept coming, and he kept begging and fighting...
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On the sixth day they were together in Seth’s room, upbeat and happy for the first time in days. The tracheostomy surgery was finally happening. Seth had been gone for an hour and they were expecting to hear soon that the procedure had been a success. It was a bright moment in the midst of days of darkness and they needed something positive. But, when Seth was brought back into the room, the breathing tube and ventilator were still firmly in place. Doctors broke the news that they hadn’t been able to do the surgery, this time because they had discovered that Seth now had pneumonia. The family’s moment of joy, their fragile hold on hope, was shattered once again.
Chris couldn’t take it anymore. He couldn’t breathe. The room was closing in on him. So was his throat. He had to get out of there. Must...find...air. Now! As if in a stupor, lost, he left the room without saying a word to anyone. He had no choice. Wandering aimlessly he walked until he found his way out of the hospital and then he just kept going…
Christine saw her husband leave. Oh, how she wanted to do the same thing. They’d both been in that dark room day and night for so long, physically together, but mentally and emotionally silent and apart, with only their crushing fears for company, prayer their only solace. This was another devastating blow.
Seth remained unchanged except for the horrid, wracking cough that viciously tossed his body around on the bed like it was a mere rag doll. It was horrible to watch. Doctors had surmised that the cough was from throat irritation caused by the breathing tube down his throat. That was one of the reasons they had wanted to do the tracheostomy so badly...to stop the irritation and ultimately relieve the cough. But, the cough, which they knew was doing damage to the membranes in his throat as the tube rubbed it raw with each jerking spasm, was also causing Seth’s ICP numbers to spike. And, as long as the ICP numbers were high, they couldn’t put in the trach. It was a vicious circle. Would it never end? And now, to find there was more causing the cough...that he also had pneumonia?! Christine’s heart was broken and bleeding. It was too much.
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Walking, with no destination in mind, Chris ended up alone on a park bench a couple of blocks away. Bent and at his breaking point he prayed, “Lord, I don’t know what to do. We’ve been praying nonstop.” He felt every emotion possible. He was drained, empty, his strength gone. But then he did what he always did, what he had done, hour after hour, day after day, since the minute he heard of Seth’s accident. He prayed. And he kept praying. Amazingly, by the time he finished, he had recovered his peace and walked in God’s strength once again.
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Christine had to get out of that room. She couldn’t hold it together or keep silent another minute. Her eyes made a quick, frantic sweep around the room to make sure she wasn’t leaving Seth alone, and then her running thoughts propelled her out into the hallway.
Eventually she ended up in the chapel, alone with her thoughts and her God. The silence in the room was broken by her cries. “No, God, please no!” she yelled into the empty room. “You can’t take him from me...I can’t lose him.” She wrestled with God and with herself. She yelled, fought and pleaded. But finally, kneeling on the floor, bent over, desperate, with tears streaming down her face, and summoning every ounce of strength she had left, she uttered the words, “Your will, Lord, not mine, be done for Seth.”
No warm, fuzzy feelings enveloped her. It was purely a heart wrenching, conscious act of giving her will and her son over to God. By His strength alone, she picked herself up and made her way back to the ICU.
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After the swelling started to go down and the wire was removed from his skull, a second MRI was done to determine the extent of Seth’s brain damage.
“I’m sorry,” were the first words out of the doctor’s mouth. Their hearts and hopes plummeted.
The MRI was bad. Really bad. Worse than any of them had expected.
Seth had diffuse axonal injury, which is brain shearing or shredding of the brain. He not only had brain shearing and brain bleeds all throughout his brain, but also throughout his brainstem. With the brainstem also involved it was now a very real possibility that Seth would never even wake up and the doctors were no longer hopeful about what Seth would be like if he did wake up. It was the worst case scenario. Up to this point, the doctors had been hopeful because of Seth’s youth and overall health, but once they got the results of the MRI, all that changed. They began talking about long-term, lower functioning rehab centers, implying that Seth may spend the rest of his life in a nursing home.
Chris and Christine were in shock. Their hopes ravaged. Seth was finally taken into surgery to do the tracheostomy and Kathy was told, for the first time since her initial posts began, not to post anything at all. Since she had been doing multiple posts every day, and knew how much prayer support the family needed at this time, this was a hard request. But, the family needed time. Chris and Christine needed to go home and talk to their younger children who had not been told the severity of Seth’s injuries. They all needed to face the fact that their beloved Seth may never come back to them in the same way...that this might be the best he would ever be.
They had a very hard conversation with their kids, even the younger ones, and told them, “Regardless of how Seth comes back to us, he will still be our Seth, and we will love him no matter what.”
They were now more resolute than ever. They would fight for Seth. They would pray even harder and continue to ask others to pray. They would beg their God for a miraculous healing, and, they would be there for Seth every step of the way, encouraging, challenging, supporting and loving him.
That night, when Chris returned home from the hospital after such a long and emotionally draining day, his son Michael was waiting for him. With a single heartfelt question, “How are you doing, Dad,” Chris was undone. After days and weeks of being strong for his family, he had reached his human limit. “Seth is supposed to be waking up and there’s no movement.” His thoughts were overrun with “what if’s.” “What if this is the best it gets?” he asked his son. “What if Seth never walks or talks again?” “He has so many dreams and plans. I’m so afraid for him.” Tears started running down his face. He had reached his “Abraham” moment. It was time for him to surrender his son, and all of his son’s dreams, to the Lord. He knew he was going to say “Yes” to God and did so, sobbing in the arms of his oldest son.
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Seth hadn’t seen God, but he’d felt His presence and heard His voice inside his very being.
This time was different. He was with Jesus and he could see him. They were at a baseball field and the sun was shining brightly through the trees as it began its descent. It was a beautiful sight. But, there, in the outfield, was an injured player lying on the ground. Jesus went to him, knelt beside him, and wept for him. It was then that Seth saw it wasn’t a child on the ground, but rather a young man about his own age.
Then his perspective changed. Now, rather than seeing the scene from beside Jesus, he was looking up, as if through the injured player’s eyes. He was looking up into Jesus’ face. He could see blood mingling with Jesus’ tears as he looked down and wept. And Seth felt Jesus’ love and sorrow and compassion for this young man.
And then another thought came. Was Jesus actually weeping for him?
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As the sedation was gradually removed, Seth remained unresponsive. The medical staff tied his hands down, to protect him in the event he came out of the coma and experienced neurostorming, a condition very common for traumatic brain injury patients. The doctors warned Chris and Christine that it might be worse in Seth’s case, as he was a young man in his prime. They needed to prepare themselves for him to perhaps be violent, lash out at people, scream and yell. But, nothing came. Seth remained in a coma for days, long after the sedation had left his system.
Eventually, he began to show some gradual signs of waking. His eyes would sometimes peek out from barely open slits and he was able to follow a simple command or two...to hold up a finger and to hold up two fingers. The family tried to get responses out of him, and sometimes succeeded, but he would never respond for the doctors. At times, there seemed to be life and understanding behind his half closed lids. At other times, they were met with a blank stare as if no one was home.
Before the MRI, the family had hoped to move Seth to Mary Free Bed Rehabilitation Hospital, one of the best rehabilitation facilities in the country. But now, with the results of the most recent MRI, the chances of him being accepted as a patient there, were highly unlikely. But, at their request, Dr. Ho, one of the chief doctors at Mary Free Bed Hospital, came to evaluate Seth.
Seth lay there totally unresponsive as the doctor examined him. He showed no signs of cognitive thinking or even awareness. That, combined with what the MRI showed, did not bode well for him. But, Chris, who from day one had been at the head of his Seth’s bed, whispering words of encouragement and love into his ear, despite the doctor’s orders to not talk to his son, knew he needed to advocate for him. He was not willing to give up on his son and had a long talk with the doctor, sharing all of the signs the family had seen...signs that made him sure the Seth they all knew and loved, was still inside and needed to be given a chance to heal and live a normal life. Based on that conversation with Chris, rather than on the test results or his own personal evaluation, Dr. Ho decided to give Seth a chance and admit him to Mary Free Bed.
The family clung to hope once again.
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Dr. Ho’s colleagues were perplexed by his decision to take a chance on Seth. Based on his MRI and Seth’s inability to sit, stand, walk, talk, swallow, follow simple commands, or even fully open his eyes, they could not understand why Dr. Ho would bring him to Mary Free Bed. But, what would happen in the days and weeks ahead, would astound not only the doctors and staff at Mary Free Bed, but the prayer warriors around the world who were praying for Seth.
Due to an insurance complication, Seth’s discharge and subsequent admittance to Mary Free Bed was delayed. The family spent another three long days waiting, both for the insurance approval, and for Seth to “wake up” more. The night before his transfer, he began to move his right leg and arm. He even reached up and touched his head. He shook his head in response to a few questions. Best of all, he reached out with his right arm and began to hug his family members, letting them know without words that he knew who they were and loved them. There were no words to describe their gratitude and relief and wonder, as well as the thanksgiving that flooded their souls. Their Seth was still there, trapped inside this fragile body.
Seth had gone from a healthy 21 year old young man, to an almost unrecognizable shrivelled shell of himself. Unable to do anything himself other than move his right arm and leg, it took a hydraulic lift to move him from the bed to a special wheelchair that supported his neck because he couldn’t even hold up his head. Yet, on day two at Mary Free Bed, therapists had him strapped into a large walker-like contraption, trying to retrain his brain to walk. Strapped in and drooping over it like a rag doll--his weight being completely supported by his therapists with straps, belts, pulleys and the walker--he was able to move his right foot an inch or two at a time. His head hung down to his chest. His left side was lifeless, so a therapist moved his left leg for him. But, it was a start.
He was still unable to swallow, talk, sit up, balance, or use his left side at all. Yet, he was peaceful. Not angry. There were no signs of neurostorming at all.
The prayer warriors’ work was far from done. Seth’s parents began to notice a correlation. If Seth was struggling with something, they would request prayers and, as the prayer warriors stormed heaven for that specific request, Seth’s hurdle would be conquered. They were seeing one miracle after another unfold before their very eyes. The therapists couldn’t keep up with his progress. This young man, who should’ve died or been severely brain damaged, was recovering at a rate that was unprecedented.
Before Seth could talk, one of his therapists asked him if he wanted to try and write. To the amazement of everyone, this same young man, who just two days before had batted around four blocks that had the letters of his name on them - S - E - T - H - as if he had no idea what they even meant, began to write in complete adult sentences. And one of the first things Seth wrote, before he could utter a single word, was “My God is good!” At that time he still couldn’t walk, talk, eat, swallow...the list goes on, and yet he was saying his God was good. The family immediately knew something special had happened to Seth. From that time on, Seth was frantic to tell them what he had experienced, but he still couldn’t talk. So, the prayer warriors were once again asked to pray. And, when Seth could finally talk and share all that had happened to him when his body was in the coma, but he was in the presence of God, they knew they were witnessing the greatest miracle of all. They couldn’t get him to stop talking! Christine wrote everything he said down in a journal she kept next to his bed.
Seth was originally scheduled to be at Mary Free Bed for 10 weeks, after which time, they would evaluate where he would then go long term. They did not know if he would ever be able to go home or if he would, instead, spend the rest of his life in a long term care facility.
Miraculously, just four weeks after he arrived...via ambulance and strapped to a gurney, unable to do anything...Seth jogged out of the hospital.
No wheelchair, no walker, no gait belt, no cane, no assistance whatsoever...except from His God whom he knew, from witnessing it first-hand, was running right alongside him, out of the hospital and into the fresh air he so desperately missed.
Lining the streets near his house, were hundreds of school students and their families along with others from the parish and community who had been praying for him. They stood in the pouring rain holding signs, “We love you, Seth!” “We’re praying for you, Seth!”. The smiles on their faces lit up even that dreary day. Nothing could dim their happiness. They were witnessing a miracle and they knew it. Even the local news media was there to record his return home. Seth, with a huge smile of his own, waived back at them, overwhelmed with gratitude for the role they had played in his miraculous recovery.
The car finally pulled up to the front of the Alfaro house and Seth got out. He walked down the sidewalk and actually hopped up the steps. Hugging his siblings who were there to greet him, he entered his house for the first time in 6 ½ weeks, something none of them had been sure he’d ever do again.
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One of the local television stations produced a half hour special on Seth after he got home. The reporter asked him, “Is there ever a day where you wish you could go back to the day of the accident and not jump from that roof?”
Seth’s answer surprised everyone. “No, because the way that God’s blessed me through this whole thing, experiences, and just the person I am now,” he replied. “I don’t think I would’ve changed like that and this quickly. It is hard going through some of this stuff, it is, there’s no other way to put it. But it’s God’s will and that’s what I try to remind myself. I’d rather be doing His will than my own.”
There was never a day where Seth just woke up and was miraculously healed. It was gradual and required a lot of very hard work on Seth’s part, and a lot of grace and skill on the part of the medical teams who worked with him. But, his healing, and the experiences he had while in his coma, are undeniable miracles.
Seth came back a changed man. One whose priorities and purpose had totally changed. One filled with gratitude and love.
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And so begins the story of Seth Alfaro’s fall and the miraculous journey that led him to a faith unlike anything he’d ever known. It’s a journey that took him from being on “top of the world,” to lying in a coma, reliant on machines and fighting for his life...from watching the setting of the sun to being in the presence of God and Jesus His Son...from searching for love with the hottest girls to experiencing a love greater than words could ever express...from parties and drugs and a lifestyle he knew was wrong, to a total conversion of faith where he came back from the edge of the grave with a desire to live...for God alone.
Seth's journey was shared by tens of thousands of people from around the world who came together on their knees in prayer, to beg the God of the Universe to heal this broken young man. It’s a journey that was so powerful and compelling that Seth knows it wasn’t meant for him alone, but was meant to be shared. It’s a journey that brought him not only physical healing, but both the healing and the saving of his soul. And that’s why he calls this journey a blessing instead of a tragedy. It’s his amazing journey to “Faith in the Fall.”
It’s a story that we believe must be told, because it isn’t done yet. God is still writing it.