Boom. Just like that.

 

For Brad Hagkull, a youth pastor outside Vancouver, B.C.-and his family, it was as if a bomb exploded in their world that day seven years ago.

 

“We learned that spina bifida is a condition where the spine and spinal cord don't completely develop,” Hagkull, now 36, recalls. “But when they read the text notes on the ultrasound to us, it just painted this picture of a little monster.”

 

The Hagkulls later learned that their unborn son-who they would name Benjamin-also suffered from hydrocephalus, a condition where the spinal cord is stretched to the point that the spinal fluid in the brain has nowhere to go. He also had clubbed feet.

A few days after Ben's ultrasound diagnosis was the first time his mom and dad shared their ordeal with their spiritual family at Broadway Church in Chilliwack, B.C. Fittingly, it was at the Thanksgiving service.

 

“Very few people knew what was going on at that point,” Hagkull says. “But we asked our congregation for prayer, and we ourselves had reached the point where we could say: 'Thank You, God, for entrusting us to be the parents of this child. We accept this little baby as a miracle of You.'”

 

And that's just what Ben, now 6, has turned out to be.

 

No, he wasn't miraculously healed of his physical limitations. He still has no sensation below his knees; he still gets around in a wheelchair-life is still way more challenging for him than for his friends. Instead, it was five little words that Ben spoke to his dad one day that's led to miracles in countless lives around him. “I want to do that.” That refers to the Hawaiian Ironman competition.

 

Turns out Ben and his dad were watching the grueling test of endurance on television one day and he spotted a disabled boy and his dad participating in the event. Ben suddenly got the bug.

 

Hagkull gulped hard. “When I realized Benjamin was serious, I thought: 'Triathlons? Running?' I'd been involved in competitive athletics for much of my life, but running was never a passion.” But where there's a will, there's a way.

 

Hagkull designed a harness to pull Ben in an inflatable boat for the swim segment. Since Ben has good movement in his quadriceps, a “trail-a-bike” with specially adapted pedals with Velcro straps allows him to pedal behind his dad for the bicycle portion. And Ben gets a front-row seat in a jogging wheelchair that his dad pushes for the final running stage.

 

In May 2004 they competed in a duathlon. Three months later, they completed their first triathlon-and now they're hooked.

 

“They're Ben's events,” Hagkull notes cheerfully. “He's just using my legs to make them happen.”

 

And for Hagkull, the deepening bond between him and Ben has pushed his faith in God to places it would never have otherwise gone.

 

“It's all good,” Hagkull now says. “The truth is that everybody's got their 'thing,' whether it's an eating disorder, depression, anger. And this happens to be our 'thing.' But God has just embraced us-and a whole new world has opened up. So, what started out as a parent's worst nightmare has become a blessing.”

 

The impact of Ben's five little words seems endless.

 

“And Ben understands it. He's so looking forward to heaven where he can run with his cousins,” Hagkull states with a sense of awe. “He knows he's getting a new body.”