Spiritual Non-Fiction posted June 2, 2017

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He was there without my knowing it

The Red-headed stranger


Each time I hear someone say, "Prove your mythological god exists. You can't" I want to cry. I know God exists, but to prove it to someone in the way they'll find acceptable is impossible. Those billions of people who believe do so based on faith. And, for many, like myself, my belief is based on the miracles He has performed in my life. Miracles that defy explanation, yet aren't acceptable to those who don't see it performed directly before them. And, even if they do witness a miracle, they find an alternative explanation that is more compatible with their beliefs, or lack thereof. This is often just as true with believers. Miracles are extremely difficult to prove.

The most devastating moment in my life was upon discovering a lump in April of 2005. Most people, especially women, don't need an explanation as to what that means. A trip to the doctor confirmed the lump, a mammogram confirmed the lump, and a biopsy determined it was cancer. I thought my life was over. I shed my torrent of tears, and wallowed in self pity while being prepared for surgery. Afterwards, I was taken to recovery before being moved to a private room. Depression took on a new meaning for me that evening. The doctor thought I'd be happy that they only had to remove half a breast. It might as well have been half my body at the time.
Later that evening, as I struggled to fall asleep, a bright red headed man in a black suit stepped partially through the door of my room, framed in the light from the hallway. He was easily recognized as being a minister, and in my state of mind, the last person I wanted to see at that moment.

"Just wanted you to know," he said, as I started to roll away. "Your cancer is now gone. Completely gone. And it will not return. You've been cured."

Yeah! Right! I thought, rolling back. I was about to utter some sarcastic remark, but he was gone.

Shortly afterwards, I started the regimen of Chemotherapy. I don't know about all cancer centers, but the one I went to each week provided very comfortable recliners to sit in while IVs pumped the chemo into my veins for a couple of hours. About a month into the treatments, I had a bad reaction, which I understood was fairly common, but I returned home feeling more depressed than ever.

I sat down at my computer. I'm a writer, but that afternoon, there was none of the usual endless stream of words waiting to be typed onto a page. I couldn't think. That's when I started to pray. Actually, I wouldn't call it praying. I just sat there and talked to God. I knew it would be foolish to ask God to take the cancer away. He doesn't work that way. He allows us to go through the trials and tribulations of life. But, I did believe he answered prayers in some instances, even if it's not in a manner we can always understand.

Tears were falling, and my body was shaking. "Dear God," I prayed. "Please, help me to get through this."

Moments later, I felt an odd sensation. It felt like the first warm day of spring had entered my body and was being carried upwards on a soft breeze, so gentle I felt I was rising up into the air. My tears dried up. The heaviness of depression was literally being pushed out of me. I smiled for the first time in months. And, somehow, I knew everything was going to be okay.
The balance of my chemo and later my six weeks of daily radiation, went smoothly. I had stopped worrying about the future and regarded my treatments as nothing more than something that had to be contended with, in the same manner as facing a sink full of dirty dishes that had to be washed.

It wasn't until the day I celebrated my fifth year of remission that I happened to remember that red headed minister who stopped by my hospital room. Was it just a fluke that he happened to tell me that my cancer was gone? And what had caused that wonderful release from my depression and fear? Some will say both instances were coincidental to my condition at the time, but I don't think so. It wasn't until that five year mark that I realized I had truly been the recipient of an honest miracle.

My cancer was in 2005. It is now 2017 and I am still in complete remission, thanks to our dear Lord.

My Testimony contest entry


My daily life has always been the pits, but that never stopped God from showing He loved me.
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Artwork by VMarguarite at FanArtReview.com

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