My Christmas Miracle

I was looking forward to the New Year. 2010 would be a great year, I just felt it in the marrow of my bones. I was about to experience a major milestone in my life—turn the big 5-0. I was happy, healthy, and ready to publish my memoir. It had been 20 years since the tragic death of my firstborn son, Derrick. What God did through the agonizing pain in my life through the loss of my child was nothing short of miraculous, and it was worth documenting. Besides, I wanted to leave a legacy for my children. I had two more children after Derrick passed away that never had the privilege of knowing their big brother. My son, Travis, was only 7 years old when Derrick died, and I did not want new memories to erase the old ones. He had a big brother named Derrick who loved him immensely. They were two peas in a pod, only two years apart in age. Though I am so grateful that God gave him a resiliency to recover after such tragic loss, it was important to me that he never forget his brother.

After 18 pain-staking months of crying and re-living the horror of losing Derrick at such a young age, I finished my manuscript. I read and revised it many times and finally decided that I would self-publish my book. I had previously heard how often publishers reject manuscripts or want to change them altogether. These were the gut-wrenching words that spilt out of my heart; they represented my pain, and this was my story. No one had the right to change things just to make it sound more “professional.” A few mistakes here and there made it all the more real as I am a real person, with real feelings, real pain, and a true story to tell. After numerous revisions and editing, my book On Eagles Wings: A mother’s story of hope and healing amidst suffering and loss was published and made available for purchase through Amazon.com. I was thrilled beyond words. My hope and prayer was that God would send this book to the right people—those that needed hope and healing. He had been instrumental in bringing me comfort and peace when nothing else could, and I wanted that same comfort for others.

I had always believed in God, but I never really knew Him. I was too busy with life, and I hate to admit that I was as carnal a Christian as they come. I did what I wanted to do and basically lived my life my way. It was void of any sort of meaningful relationship with God. An occasional prayer here and there was all I had time for and all that I was interested in. That is, of course, until Derrick was gone. Out of anguish and desperation I returned to God. I was filled with so many questions. “Why God? How could you let such a young little boy die? What good will ever come out of such loss and pain? Are you punishing me Lord for my sinfulness? What is my purpose in going on? My heart is breaking and I don’t know how to continue living without him.”

Little did I know that my aching spirit was fertile ground for the Lord to get my attention and through immense pain and tears I sought Him. I returned to church, re-dedicated my life to God, and begged for mercy and forgiveness. I knew that my life had not turned out the way God intended. Just one week before my son died, my divorce from his father was finalized. I married my first boyfriend at the age of 18, and now, 11 years later was dissatisfied with my life. I decided I would be better off without him. I was determined to live my life with my young boys in a way that pleased me. My choices hurt God, and they ultimately hurt me. I learned that He is the God of new beginnings, and if His children humbly seek His face, He will forgive and restore them. He did this and so much more for me in the past 20 years. He not only brought me healing, He gave me an indescribable hope for my future and a purpose in my sorrow. That purpose was to reach others who are in the same place I was in so many years ago.

March came and went, and my book was published and distributed to all my close friends and family. I felt so alive inside, like I was doing exactly what I was called to do—bring glory to God through my son’s story. I was given the opportunity to give my testimony on numerous occasions; an article was published about our family and our journey of healing; my new website soaringhigherministry.com was established; and I was asked to join Women’s leadership at church by facilitating Women’s Bible studies. Life was good and I felt empowered by God to do big things for His kingdom. I was having “mountain-top” experiences, and I did not want to come down to the valley. I’m also a realist and I knew that mountain-top experiences were temporary and that we are not intended to live on the mountaintop. It is in the valley where God’s work is to be done. Eventually I made my way down that mountain and into the humdrum of real life again.

Several years ago God had introduced me to two very special ladies, Dee and Ann, who worked as childcare workers at our church. We had frequently exchanged “hellos” and occasional stories about Colorado when I dropped off my daughter into their care to attend Bible studies. Beyond that our relationship was simply cordial. That is until a year before I began writing my book. Dee knew my story and also knew that I intended to write a book sometime in the future. She was the one who continually asked me if I had started it yet. Unfortunately, more often than not, I had to tell her, “No, not yet. But keep asking. I intend to write it one day.” She reminded me every time she saw me, and in some strange way, the more people I told, the more committed I felt to write it. I didn’t realize at the time how much Dee prayed for me. She and her mother committed to being my very own personal “prayer warriors.” They took an interest in me and committed to praying for the urgency and completion of this book. Our friendship began to grow beyond an occasional hello and we began talking on the phone, sharing our faith in God and what He was doing in our lives. We lived about 40 miles apart, and started to visit one another as time allowed. Our friendship was flourishing. It was a different sort of friendship. It was based on a mutual faith in God and excitement arose as we shared how He was working in our lives.

Dee was so happy for me when my book was finally published and one of the first to read it. A few months later during the summer of 2010, she shared with me a disturbing dream she had concerning me. At first she was reluctant to tell me, but she pressed on and told me that she had dreamed that I had developed cancer. To be quite honest, I was somewhat shocked and quickly dismissed her dream. After all, I was the epitome of health. I exercised on a regular basis, my weight was under control, and I felt wonderful. It was just a dream, and I know from experience that the mind does crazy things at times. Sometimes you just dream strange things, and it surely does not mean it will come to pass. She took this dream as a sign from God to start fervently praying for me. I, on the other hand, forgot all about it and continued on with my life.

Just a few months later I found myself watching a taped show of Dr. Oz. I enjoyed hearing about his health based topics as I always felt a little more educated about my health. This particular show was all about colonoscopies. In fact, he had his colonoscopy performed live on TV. Unbeknownst to him, he had a small polyp which was removed on the spot. He made such a big deal about it. Come on, Dr. Oz, it was just a small polyp. He urged the viewers to make their colonoscopy appointments as soon as they turned 50. Yea, I know. It had been 8 months since I had turned 50, but I intended to wait a year or two. After all, I did not look forward to the procedure and surely a year or so would not make much difference. My sister also watched the show and shortly thereafter her husband, who was almost 51, had his colonoscopy. He, too, had several polyps removed. She urged me to make my appointment. I began to get a stirring in my heart that maybe it was time to visit my doctor again. It had been over 2 years since I had any sort of blood work drawn or tests performed. I made the appointment and while there asked my doctor if she knew of any gastroenterologists she could refer me to. She laughed and proceeded to tell me that her husband was a gastroenterologist. Okay, I’ll make an appointment with him.

A few weeks later while lying sedated on the table my eyes suddenly opened during my routine colonoscopy. My eyes fixated on the screen in front of me and through a muffled voice I asked, “What is that growth?” I came to my senses moments later in the recovery room with the doctor explaining to my husband that he discovered a huge polyp and was unable to remove it due to its size and possible excessive bleeding. He scraped off some tissue to have it biopsied and referred me to a colorectal surgeon. I could not believe what was unfolding in front of me. This has got to be some sort of mistake! I am a healthy, fit, 50 year old woman with no pain, no symptoms, and a bright future in front of me. What on earth is happening?

My calendar was cleared for the next 6 weeks of my life for doctors’ visits, embarrassing tests, fear, and fervent prayer. I was consumed with what was growing inside of me. It was called an adenoma and absolutely had to be surgically removed. Although the tissue that was biopsied came back normal, I would not know for certain whether or not this huge adenoma had become cancer-ridden until it was cut out and sent to pathology. A myriad of feelings invaded me. I was a strong Christian so why was fear my constant companion? I discovered that even though I longed to be with my son again and see Jesus face-to-face, I did not want to die yet. I still had work to do. My ministry was just beginning. I found myself questioning God, “What on earth is going on here, Lord?” My fears quickly gave way to prayer. Prayer to God to please give me peace throughout this entire process, and moreover to not let me go through this experience in vain. I asked God to teach me something through this—something about myself or others, or to draw me even closer to Him. I believed in my heart that this “test” that I was going through would only add to my testimony. I believed God for the best outcome, not matter what the prognosis would be, and I surrendered my fears to Him. Believe me, it was a day by day process. I asked everyone I knew for prayer, knowing that God would hear and answer our prayers. I also believed that their prayers to God on my behalf would strengthen me and give me the courage to go forward.

The day of my surgery finally arrived, December 16, 2010. The surgeon would perform a laparoscopic anterior resection wherein one foot of my colon along with the adenoma would be permanently cut out. I would remain in the hospital for 4 nights and recovery would be 4-6 weeks. I had peace in my heart, and I know it was due to all the prayers offered on my behalf. When I awoke I was in excruciating pain, but so grateful that the procedure was behind me. My only focus now was to follow the doctor’s orders and allow my body to heal. Everything else was out of my hands. I was grateful that I would be home in time for Christmas.

Every day was better than the one before and 3 days post-surgery, I was able to walk, albeit slow, and the discomfort was minimal and tolerable. On December 20th I went home to recover. There is truly no place like home. Although I knew it would be difficult to not start cooking, cleaning, and moving around, I needed to slow down so my body could begin its healing process. Lifting anything over 10 pounds was out of the question, so I would allow myself to be pampered for a little while. My family was very helpful as were the many friends who brought meals. God’s love and care was so very evident.

The day before Christmas Eve I received the call I had been waiting for. It was from my surgeon with results from the pathology report. He informed me that my adenoma was benign. “Praise God!” I quickly blurted into the phone. I asked him if this growth would have turned into cancer. “Absolutely. It was a pre-cancerous adenoma.” I then asked him if he had any idea how long it may have taken. He said, “Maybe a year.” I thanked him for the call and wished him a Merry Christmas. As I hung up the phone a surge of emotion came over me. I cried and I laughed as I was filled with such relief and joy. As the day went on I pondered how different this could have all turned out. In fact, I am still pondering. Through a series of divine interventions, God rescued me from potential disease and death. Does God still speak in dreams? You bet He does! The dream He gave my friend Dee initiated prayer on my behalf. The urgency that He alone put in my heart after watching Dr. Oz and speaking to my sister finally gave me courage to go forward with the colonoscopy. The many people who prayed for my healing are now all witnesses to a God who is good; a God who heals our diseases; and a God who mysteriously, but actively moves in our lives if we but take the time to look and listen.

And the request I had made to God to please use this experience to teach me something about myself, others, or Him? Well, He poured into my heart a fresh compassion for the sick, for those with diseases, and for those with very real fears. My job is to pray for them, for as the Bible says, “The prayer of a righteous man is powerful and effective.” James 5:16 Today is Christmas Eve and I have received my very own Christmas miracle. It is the gift of life. Every day that God grants us here on earth is His gift to us. What we do with that day is our gift back to Him. The year 2010 may have started out filled with excitement and anticipation, but I can honestly say that through this recent experience it is ending even better than it began. God is not finished with me yet, and until He calls me home, I will do my very best to live out the rest of my days with a renewed passion for His glory. For He is truly my Christmas miracle.