Pearl Joy Brown never uttered a word. But her life spoke volumes.
By Bob Smietana
A few years ago, a little girl named Pearl Joy Brown reduced a room full of journalists to tears without saying a word.
All she did was breathe.
And the room melted. Pearl Joy was a living miracle.
Prenatal tests showed she had a condition called Alobar Holoprosencephaly—meaning her brain did not develop as it should. Few babies with Pearl’s disorder make it to term, and of those who do, only 3 percent survive birth.
The condition was “not compatible with life,” according to doctors, who advised Pearl’s parents, Eric and Ruth Brown, to induce labor and end the pregnancy.
They declined, believing God made Pearl just as she was. And she deserved a chance to live.
I met the Browns and their daughter at their modest East Nashville home, not long after she was born. I was there reporting for the Tennessean in Nashville.
They told me God gave Pearl her red hair and shining blue eyes and the cleft in her chin. And her genetic disorder.
“Things didn’t go wrong,” Eric Brown told me. “God has designed Pearl the way He wanted, for His glory and our good.”
That didn’t make thing easy. Caring for Pearl was hard. She needed constant medical care. No one knew how long she had to live.
Even a simple cold could end her days.
Her parents loved her fiercely and knew she would not be with them for long.
But the Browns had their faith and lots of friends, who carried them along when they couldn’t manage on their own. God was there all the time, they said.
A few months after reporting on the Browns’ story, the newspaper held a video training for reporters. After a morning session, they sent us out to find a story. We had two hours.
I cheated. I wanted to see how Pearl was doing. She was six months old at this time, far exceeding the doctors’ expectations. Now, I had a reason to stop by.
The Browns and I talked while I shot some video. Then I needed some “b-roll”— background footage to go along with the interview.
Ruth Brown held her daughter. Pearl looked up at her mom. The camera rolled.
And for just a minute, the world stood still.
Then Ruth talked about what she’d learned over those first six months of Pearl’s life. Mostly she was thankful.
“There are folks who long for what we have,” she told me. “For the love we feel. For the way that we feel like we’ve been carried by God, our community, our church, our friends…. I have so much to be grateful for.”
Then the interview was over. I went back to the office and started editing the footage. Our instructor had told us it was okay to start with some b-roll. So that’s what I did.
About an hour later, the instructor pressed play and the video rolled. Pearl looked at her mom. And breathed.
Once again the world stood still.
At the end, there was barely a dry eye among us.
Something about Pearl touched us all. She could not speak. Or walk. Or do much. Her life was very small.
But in that one moment, in that training room, we caught a glimpse of the image of God in her face.
Since that day, people all over the world have heard about Pearl. They learned of an ordinary couple that loved their daughter and wanted to be faithful to their God.
Not long ago I met up with Eric Brown, Pearl’s dad. She was five years old at this point and things had begun to deteriorate. Her body was wearing out. The genetic condition had taken its toll.
When Pearl was born, Eric and Ruth fought to give Pearl a chance to live. Now they had to find a way to let her go. Once again, their hearts were breaking.
On March 29, Pearl drew her last breath, her family by her side.
“Pearly has taught me the beauty in being weak,” Eric Brown told the Tennessean after Pearl was gone. “It is the better way to go through life. When you are weak, everyone puts their hand in the air and says, ‘I, too, am weak.’ And you end up with a wonderful community of people.”
Pearl Joy Brown never uttered a word. But her life spoke volumes.
Those of us who met her—or even caught a glimpse of her—will never be the same.
BOB SMIETANA (@BobSmietana) is senior writer at Facts & Trends.
