My Miracles

Amazing Sunset with Blues, Pinks, Purples and Oranges over beachI’ve had so many Miracles happen throughout my life that I can tell my whole life story just by sharing them in order! I wouldn’t be here typing this today if it weren’t for some of them. Miracles not only happened to me, but my 22 year old son, Brendan, only had a 2% chance of being born at all. My 120 pound dog, Rocko, who is laying on my lap right now wouldn’t even be here. My life has been so blessed by being filled with Miracles!

In late 2009, I felt God was leading me to write down all of my own Miracles and then begin collecting other people’s stories from around the world. In 2011, I quit my corporate job to concentrate on this mission. This website is built to assist in finding and collecting these stories and to give people hope that are looking for a Miracle of their own. If you’ve had a Miracle happen in your life or know someone that has, please pray about it and if you feel led, please submit your story. It’s a way of bringing hope to others and saying “Thanks” to God.

Here are some of examples of the stories of Miracles that have happened to me. They will be included in the book along with other Miracles that have happened to me and, of course, the Miracle stories collected here.

Congratulations, Daughter – From the Grave

It was one of the most exciting days in my life – High School Graduation!  I couldn’t believe the day was finally here; and, I’m sure, neither could my Mother.  I know she hit her knees in thanks on that day!  Not that I was a rebellious kid or anything…nah, not me.  Anyway, I was excited and couldn’t wait to put on the Graduate’s well-known rented green gown and went over to the closet get it down.

As I opened the door, there were a lot of thoughts going through my mind and somewhere mixed amongst them was the thought that I wish my Dad were there with me to celebrate.  He had died at 53 from a heart attack and stroke when I was 16.  I started getting a little teary eyed thinking how much I missed him and how I would miss him for so many special occasions that Dad’s are supposed to share with you during our journeys through life.

As this thought went through my mind, something fell off of the closet shelf and landed on the floor at my feet.  Bending down, I saw it was a card with my name penned on the front.  It had already been opened.  Curiously, I pulled out the card.  It said, “Happy Graduation, Daughter” on the front.  I opened the card and there it was.  “Love, Dad.”  I got the chills and looked around the room.  It was his handwriting.  I realized then that it was a card that Mom and Dad had given me for my 8th grade graduation.  Mom ALWAYS signed the cards though.  This just happened to be one of those very rare times that Dad had signed it himself.  I did get teary eyed then.  But instead of being sad, I felt like Dad was right there with me on my special occasion and would be for each one in my life, somehow, some way.

My 2% Miracle Child

Just coming from the Doctors office, I stopped at the flower shop and found the cutest little bouquet of flowers; the vase looked just like a little bassinet. I picked out several pastel helium balloons in pink and blue and then found one balloon that said, “It’s a Girl!” and the other that said, “It’s a Boy!” I was beside myself with excitement. I couldn’t believe it. I was pregnant! And this time, I got to keep the baby and bestow all my love on them. I know only someone that had to give away their first child for adoption will understand how this feels. It was the most joyful time in my life and the most thrilling!

I brought the baby bouquet and balloons home and laid them on the kitchen table. I arranged and rearranged. I couldn’t wait for my husband to come home. I just couldn’t sit still! Since I had off of work for my Doctor’s appointment, I decided to get out of the house just to have something to do. I thought of going to the movies but I didn’t want to go alone – and then thought, “I’m not alone! I’m with my child.” Happy and elated, I walked in the theater and bought us a popcorn and small coke. There’s nothing quite like movie theater popcorn. Especially when you’re eating for two! “We” decided to see “Who Killed Roger Rabbit.”

It was the summer of 1988. My husband and I had gotten married in 1985. I made the bad decision to get married before I finished college. I quit after spending so much time, energy and my own money to put myself through school. And as a lot of kids do, decided that I would just finish College up later. My husband could work and I would continue going to school. Unfortunately, that never happened. Take it from me, if you’re young and considering doing the same thing that so many of us did, don’t do it! Finish college first and then get married! But I regress…

After the movie, I rushed home, full of excitement and nervous energy. I was having a baby!

A couple of months later, I woke up early to start getting ready for work as was my normal schedule. I was eating a healthy breakfast and sitting at the kitchen table when I felt something that wasn’t right at all. I felt something wet. Upon investigation, it was just water and not blood. I called my Doctor just to be on the safe side and he said to meet him at the hospital emergency room immediately.

Upon examination, the Doctor’s news greeted me like a slap in the face. He said that the bag that held the baby was leaking embryonic fluid. He said that within the next 24 – 48 hours I would begin labor and have the baby and, that “unfortunately” the baby wasn’t developed enough to make it. He said that his little lungs weren’t able to function on their own and that the baby was just not far enough along yet for the equipment they had in those days to keep him alive. He said that he only had a two percent (2%) chance of making it through the next 24 – 48 hour period. And, if in fact he did happen to make it past that time that he would either be deaf, blind, mentally handicapped or some other serious difficulty would occur. But there was only a 2% chance of him making it to that stage anyway.

I couldn’t believe it. I was in shock. This couldn’t be happening. Not after giving up my first child for adoption, I just couldn’t lose this baby. I looked up at the doctor in glazed disbelief.

The only chance you have of getting through the next 24 – 48 hours without losing him is to go home and have total bed rest and lay on your left side. All of your organs work better when you are lying on your left side – heart pumps better, etc. Don’t sit up in bed – not even to eat. The only time to get out of bed is when you need to use the restroom.”

I started praying right then and there. “Oh, God — this can’t be happening! Please, please don’t let this happen! Please heal me, heal my baby.” I went home and lay on my left side and I prayed. My husband prayed. I called my family and they prayed and then they called their Churches and put me and my baby on the Church prayer lists. And others prayed.

24 hours went by and I continued to pray… 48 hours and still praying… 72 hours and I prayed and everyone prayed.

Baby BrendanMeanwhile, my back started hurting from laying on my left side about 6 hours into this. 3 days later, laying on my left side with only a 13” black and white TV with no remote control to keep my company while my husband worked, I prayed that Pee Wee Herman’s show would go off the air as I put the pillow over my head. I really came to appreciate remote controlled TV’s. My in-laws brought over my dinner and brought me lunch.

A month went by… then two… then three. Six months later, on January 30, 1989, Brendan came into this world – on his due date. He was 7 lbs 6 oz, 26” height and was completely and totally healthy.

Brendan’s 22 now and, not to brag or anything but he’s extremely intelligent and kind to others (and handsome and funny to boot). And he’s been the joy of my life ever since! I don’t know what I would have done in my life without him. He’s been my greatest Blessing and Miracle of all and I thank God for him everyday. He’s my 2% Miracle Child!

 

No Scalpel Required – The Ultimate Physician

So, do you really think he likes me?” “She did not say that!” “Oh my gosh – no way!” “Hold on, my ear is sore; let me switch ears.” It was 11:00 at night, I was 13 and it was normal to talk on the phone until your ears bled and you lost your voice. I rubbed the offended member and felt a big lump right in front of my ear on the side of my face. “OH MY GOSH! I think I broke my jaw.” Lisa said, “What!?” I said, “I said I think I talked so much I broke my jaw. I better go.” I jumped off the bed and turned on the light in the bedroom. I went over to my mirror and stuck my face up close. Protruding from the side of my face was what looked like part of my jaw. “Ahh! I broke my freakin’ jaw!” I screamed as I ran downstairs two at a time to show my Mom. She was sitting in her favorite chair doing her favorite thing – reading.

Me: “Mom, I think I broke my jaw.”

Mom: “What!?”

Me: “I said I think I broke my jaw.”

Mom: “How could you have broken your jaw?”

Me: “I don’t know. I think I was talking too much.”

Mom: “That’s impossible. Besides, if your jaw was broken you wouldn’t be able to talk. Why do you think it’s broken?”

Me: “Cause the bone is sticking out funny.”

Mom: “Come here and let me see it.”

I went over and knelt down beside her chair and put my head under her reading lamp that sat beside her on the table and titled my head to the side so she could get a better look. She pushed back my long hair from my face and rubbed the rather large lump with her fingers. As I had said, it was hard, just like bone.

Mom: “Huh. Sure feels like it’s broken. What were you doing when it happened?”

Me: Just talkin’.

Mom: “I never heard of anyone breaking their jaw just by talking. Why don’t you go to bed and we’ll look at it in the morning.”

Me: “OK, Goodnight – love you.”

Mom: “Love you, too.”

I don’t think either one of us thought too much about it. It would probably be gone in the morning and disappear just as suddenly as it appeared. I rubbed it a few more times after I pulled the covers up around me and headed off to sleep.

When the alarm went off in the morning, I woke up groggily and rubbed my eyes. Flashes of the previous night came back to me and after rubbing my eyes, I reached up and rubbed my jaw. Sure enough, it still felt like the bone was sticking out.

Since my unwanted visitor didn’t have the proper manners to go away on its own, a visit to the fdoctor was in order. “Hmmmm,” he said. He rubbed and pondered and pondered and rubbed. Then he said, “It’s Cat Scratch Fever.” Wow, cool – right on! I couldn’t wait to tell the kids in school that I had Cat Scratch Fever. It was 1977 and Ted Nugent was high on the charts at the time and one of the number one songs was, “Cat Scratch Fever.” I would become an overnight sensation! I didn’t have a clue what Cat Scratch Fever Disease was nor the true meaning behind the song — but it sure sounded cool.

But I haven’t been around a cat.” I don’t remember the rest of the conversation but I think we found a cat in my life that just may have scratched me. The doctor said that Cat Scratch Fever was something you got from a cat scratch and it created a bacterial infection in your glands. He gave me a prescription for the cure and we headed off to get it filled. I couldn’t wait to call my friends!

Hey, guess what I have?”

What?”

Cat Scratch Fever! I went to the doctor and he gave me a cure,” I said, quoting from the song and giggling. Then we started singing at the top of our voices, “They give me cat scratch fever… daa na naa naaaa…Cat scratch fever… daa na naa naaaa.” We giggled. I put the album on and we continued singing:

The first time that I got it

I was just ten years old

I got it from some kitty next door

I went and see the Dr. and

He gave me the cure

I think I got it some more!

COOL!,” she said, “I wish I had it.”

After it became obvious that the “cure” wasn’t the cure, and the so called “Cat Scratch Fever” failed to disappear, the lump began getting bigger. One day in school, my vision became blurry. My father, who traveled all the time on business and was away at the time, told my Mom to, “…put her in the hospital and tell them that she’s not coming out until they found out what’s wrong with her!”

So they started testing. I don’t even like talking about the next part because it hurts just thinking about it – but here goes. One of the tests that they did was to take iodine and shoot it into my saliva glands using a needle with a tube on the end. In the room with me was the radiologist, the nurse and a young doctor with a terrible bedside manner that I’ll never forget. He had new equipment, or so he said, that he never used before. He took that needle and tried 5 times, yes, 5 times to inject it in the right place. The radiologist, also who I will never forget but for the opposite reason, told him he better get it right the next time because he wasn’t going to jabbing me with it again. The radiologist was a very large, burly man with a beard that looked like Grizzly Adams. I think he felt protective of the little 13 year old pin-cushion-voodoo-doll looking up at him with big, green tear filled eyes.

Finally the doctor switched back to his “old” way of doing things with the equipment he was used to and the pain was really on. Lying on the cold steel x-ray table, I was looking at myself in the glass in the x-ray machine that had a little “+” in the middle. The doctor stepped back a little and started injecting the dye into my veins and I immediately saw my face start to swell. As did the pain. I was having an allergic reaction to the iodine. Man oh man, did that hurt! Tears started coming down my face as they positioned me this way and that to take the x-rays. I looked again at my face and it was swollen beyond recognition. The nurse finally said with a bit of compassion, “All done. You can sit up now, honey.” The doctor came over and said with a grin on his face, “Ouch – you’re a little swollen up there, aren’t we?” It hurt when he pressed his fingers against my face where he had stuck me 6 times and shot me full of the iodine that I was allergic to.

I was a little spit fire and in so much pain that I instinctively reached out and slapped his arm away. He had the nerve to look a little shocked but still had that stupid grin on his face as if he found the whole thing humorous. Sweet Grizzly Adams said in his deep, gruff voice to the Doctor, “You deserved that!” and angrily walked away. The nurse pushed me out to the hallway in a wheelchair, gave me some lemon juice packages and told me to squirt them into my mouth and it would make the iodine come out. Then she walked away and said someone would be by to get me. I was still in an enormous amount of pain and took the first package and ripped the top open with my teeth and squirted it into my mouth. Nothing. My face continued to swell. One-by-one I continued to rip open the lemon juice packets and pour them into my mouth. They just didn’t work. I couldn’t even taste the lemon. I sat in that hallway with no one even walking down the hall for about an hour. Finally an orderly came to take me to my room. I was shaking by then and still in red hot pain. When I got to my room I found that if I drank something it would help the pain. The pitcher of water in the hospital room was broken and when I tried to pour the water out it leaked. I pushed the button to call a nurse but when they didn’t come, I just started drinking straight from the pitcher. It leaked down my chin and onto my gown. I didn’t care. It was the only thing that seemed to alleviate the pain. After the pitcher was gone, I pushed the button again for the nurses. Still no one came so I went into the bathroom to get more water and stole a glace at myself in the mirror. I let out a little cry – my face was unrecognizable.

I had a thin face at 13 years old – I only weighed about 100 pounds and was 5’5” – my face was so swollen you couldn’t even make out my jaw line. I hurriedly filled up the pitcher with the nasty hospital room bathroom sink water. Although I wouldn’t normally drink water from a hospital room sink, the release from pain, if only for a second, was worth it. The warm water poured out again through the broken pitcher and onto my gown as I guzzled the tepid stuff. I was already shaking from the pain and now I was freezing cold – the wet gown and bed sheets were making it worse in the air-conditioned room.

It was about that time that my Mother walked in. It was just turning dark outside. She came in and couldn’t believe that they had left me there as they did. She turned and rushed off down the hall to the nurse’s station and rounded them up. She had them go immediately and provide dry, clean sheets, a couple of water pitchers that weren’t leaking and some sanitary water for each. She said, “Can’t you see she’s going into shock? She needs some pain meds – get her some aspirin and blankets!” The nurses jumped to do her bidding.

The results came back and they said I had a tumor in my saliva gland. They were going to have to do surgery to remove. After the surgery was scheduled, I went home. Scared and frightened, I tried to put on a brave front. I was not a child anymore – I was 13 — in my mind, a grown up. Cat scratch fever was cool; this was not.

The day of surgery arrived and I had a post-op appointment with my Doctor (thank goodness a different Doc than the pin-cushion-voodoo-doll Doctor). He sat me in a big, black leather chair like they have in the dentist’s office and pulled back my long, brown hair to show my Mom where they were going to cut.

We will start right here,” he said, showing my Mom where he would use the scalpel and pointing with his finger on the left side of my face up by the top-front of my ear. “Then down this way,” running his finger down along the front edge of my ear. “And then up to here,” coming down around my ear lobe and back up again behind it. “And down to here,” running his “scalpel” from behind to top of my ear lobe all the way down the edge of my jaw. All of a sudden, he got a somewhat quizzical look on his face. He tilted his head sideways and said, something brilliant, like, “hmmmmm.” Then he turned my face and moved the hair back from the right side of my face. The tumor was large enough where you could see it sticking off the side of my face. It was no little thing. He rubbed a bit then went back to the left side of my face and rubbed again – this time a little more frantic, like he lost his keys or something. He mumbled, “Where’d it go?” turning me back and forth. Then I heard him say, “These things don’t happen. Tumors like this just don’t disappear! I have all the x-rays! I have all the tests!” And again, “Where did it go?”

I saw from over his shoulder my Mom who had started to slowly grin from ear-to-ear. She said softly, “It’s a Miracle!” The Doctor looked at her dumbfounded and said again, “But this just doesn’t happen. We’ll have to do the tests over again.  I’m Jewish.  And if it’s a Miracle, I can use all the help I can get!  ” Mom said with a grin still on her face under her breath, “Bet you won’t find anything. She had a Miracle happen!” Mom had put me on a 24-hour prayer list at Church where someone was always praying for you and had sent out her Christmas cards early asking every person she sent one to for prayer for me.  My Dad supervised many employees who had also put me on the prayer chain of their Churches.  Many prayers were being lifted up.

Being the brave 13 year old that I was, when they said I had to go through all the tests again, I decided it was time for me to head out on my own. I grabbed a red handkerchief and put my life savings in it (about $12.14) and hit the road. My friend, Sarah, who had lost her Mom when she was little, had her hardship license and saw me walking along in the subdivision. She was a little thing but had a huge pickup truck. She stopped and picked me up and asked me where I was going. I told her I was running away from home and she said I could hide out at her house. Sounded good to me as it was almost dinner time and Sarah had supper on the stove.

It didn’t take long for my poor, troubled family and friends to find me and bring me back. The tests were scheduled but this time they decided to do it a little differently. Grizzly Adams said he’d be there just for me and would hold my hand. He said he wouldn’t let Doctor Pin Cushion perform the tests as he had before. I guess they also didn’t use the iodine that time since they knew I was allergic to it. I think they even gave me a little shot of something to make me relaxed because I remember it was a totally different experience and went off without a hitch.

The results came back, and as I’m sure you may have guessed, there was no sign of a tumor. It was totally and completely gone and had disappeared the day of surgery. Was it a Miracle? The Doctor who didn’t believe in Miracles sure seemed to think so. So does my family. And, so do I!

As I’ve said, I’ve had many more Miracles happen throughout my life and they will be included in the upcoming book. God works in every area of my life and I’m so thankful to Him that He cares about every little detail. He’s my Creator, Savior and Best Friend. Thank You, God! — Your Daughter

 

Congratulations, Daughter – From the Grave

It was one of the most exciting days in my life – High School Graduation!I couldn’t believe the day was finally here; and, I’m sure, neither could my Mother.I know she hit her knees in thanks on that day!Not that I was a rebellious kid or anything…nah, not me.Anyway, I was excited and couldn’t wait to put on the Graduate’s well-known rented green gown and went over to the closet get it down.

As I opened the door, there were a lot of thoughts going through my mind and somewhere mixed amongst them was the thought that I wish my Dad were there with me to celebrate.He had died at 53 from a heart attack and stroke when I was 16.I started getting a little teary eyed thinking how much I missed him and how I would miss him for so many special occasions that Dad’s are supposed to share with you during our journeys through life.

As this thought went through my mind, something fell off of the closet shelf and landed on the floor at my feet.Bending down, I saw it was a card with my name penned on the front.It had already been opened.Curiously, I pulled out the card.It said, “Happy Graduation, Daughter” on the front.I opened the card and there it was.“Love, Dad.”I got the chills and looked around the room.It was his handwriting.I realized then that it was a card that Mom and Dad had given me for my 8th grade graduation.Mom ALWAYS signed the cards though.This just happened to be one of those very rare times that Dad had signed it himself.I did get teary eyed then.But instead of being sad, I felt like Dad was right there with me on my special occasion and would be for each one in my life, somehow, some way.

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