God Can Do Anything

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From the time I was a little girl, Jesus was the only constant in my life. One Sunday morning when I was four years old, I was in Sunday School coloring a picture of Jesus, when it seemed that He jumped off the page and into my heart. From then on He was with me through a very hard life that because of my limited knowledge I thought was normal. I was a victim of very severe child abuse. I was prostituted out from 4 to 6 years old by my parents as well as raped and continually tortured by my father. I was beaten every day until age 11, stripped naked and thrown into walls and furniture. He buried me underground in a box. I wet the bed until I was nineteen years old because of the trauma of continual abuse. I remember having my face rubbed in my wet sheets, having to wash them by hand with a scrub board and bucket.

I always had Jesus as my constant companion.

Nor could I expect protection from my mother. She would fly into fits of rage biting my face and shaking me until it seemed that my insides would fall out. I was sexually violated by lesbians and left alone with many perverted people. There was great shame hidden in my heart because of all I went through, but I know now that Jesus is touched with the feelings of our infirmities and endured the cross in order to bring those like me to healing.

Even though I was severely abused, I always had Jesus as my constant companion. He poured love and joy into me and I felt happy in spite of the way I was treated. Miraculously, I never felt hatred for the people who abused me or for my mommy or daddy. When I was older the Lord enabled me to face the abuse, and move through it to inner healing, and I am still in this process, but I have come a long way through His grace. I married my husband, Frank in 1967 at the age of nineteen; and we have been married 35 years.

Journey Into Darkness

In 1980 we were at a church baseball game. Although I had suffered debilitating migraines since 1966, I had one that day, but this time it was different. When I tried to step into the car, I urinated all over the sidewalk. I lost all control of my arms and legs and could not focus my eyes. It felt like someone was injecting something cold in the back of my brain.

For the next 6 months I spent most of my time on the sofa. I only walked holding onto walls, and I fell a lot. I was losing my sight and was incontinent. My doctor sent me for every test, and after six weeks in the hospital, two neurologists diagnosed my condition as acute multiple sclerosis.

The emotional and physical pain became almost unbearable.

While I was in the hospital, the lady that cleaned my room came to know Jesus and so did the lady in the bed next to me who was dying of cancer. For the next eleven years, I went in and out of remission. I had good and bad days, but even though I lived in the presence of the Lord, my physical condition still worsened. I had to have a cane, then a walker, then a wheelchair. Throughout those eleven years I almost died from other complications many times.

The emotional and physical pain of the last part of my illness became almost unbearable. In 1989 as my hands began to curl up, the neurologist also diagnosed me with an adult form of Muscular Dystrophy. I spent my days and nights either in the doctor’s office or in bed. I listened to praise and worship music constantly, read the Bible as well as Christian devotional literature day and night. Although at one point I thought the Lord had told me he would heal me, I was preparing to die. I was in the process of picking out my funeral music, because I believed He would heal me by taking me home. Eventually I stopped all medications against my doctor’s orders and the disease began to exacerbate. I had to return to the hospital. I was vomiting constantly and kept slipping in and out of a coma. My body began to curl up into a fetal position. I wanted to go home to die where I could be with my family.

“Do you want to be healed?”

One morning I heard the nurses talking about a trachea down my throat, when I looked up from my bed and saw the words, “You will know the truth and the truth will make you free.” I said, “Yes, Lord, I’m ready for the truth.”

I thought He asked me, “Do you want to be healed?” I replied, “Of course.” Then I thought He said, “Well get up, get washed and eat.” About that time a nurse came in and said, “Would you like to get washed and eat?” I stuffed that Jell-O down my throat and let them bathe me because I wanted to be as obedient as I could, but I was still the same.

Soon Frank came to take me home to die and death began to close in on me. I would lose my eyesight and hearing intermittently. Frank, my mother-in-law and the girls had to help me with small tasks like brushing my teeth and feeding me.

During this time Frank would be downstairs crying for God to take me while I was upstairs asking God to take me. I had so much physical pain and yet refused to take any more medication. I just couldn’t anymore. I kept thinking, “Just one more day...just one more day.”

That Incredible Day

One morning as usual, my mother- in-law brought my tray and began to feed me. As she reached her arm across the tray, I suddenly felt her skin. It was as soft as a baby’s skin. This was unusual because I hadn’t been able to feel textures because of the numbness. I exclaimed, “Wow! Your skin is soft.”

They raised me up in bed and turned my legs to dangle over the bed. It was then that I could feel the carpet...I could feel the carpet! The feeling was returning to my body. I wanted to try to get up, but Frank was afraid it would be too dangerous, but I did something I hadn’t done in years. I got up and walked to the rocking chair and looked out my window. I went into another room and then another and then downstairs. Tears of joy began to run down my face.

It seemed like every blade of grass, every petal of each flower, and each bird was watching me.

Then I went outside and felt the breeze blowing on my skin. I gulped in every draught of air as though I had never breathed before. I was absorbing every experience as if each one were entirely new. With every sense in my body coming to life, I walked down my driveway. The last time I had been on my driveway, I had been in my wheelchair. Then I realized, “I AM HEALED!” It seemed like every blade of grass, every petal of each flower, and each bird was watching me. I was spiritually rejuvenated on the inside, too. I was filled with unspeakable joy and love for Jesus.

That was 1991. I have been free from multiple sclerosis and muscular dystrophy for 10 years now. Although the worst is healed, I suffer with fibromyalgia, but the struggle that is there now is not a reason for shame. It is only another part of my journey with God. I understand that for Him healing me is “a piece of cake.”

The effects of my healing were a shock to those who had known me well. I went to the doctor who had seen me for two years. The nurse told her that she had better come out into the waiting room to see this. When she appeared at the door, she kept saying, “I can’t believe it. I can’t believe it.” The people at the church where I attended then were also amazed. They had never seen me outside my wheelchair. Our neighbors next door were Hindus and the grandfather was an alcoholic. I had witnessed to them many times. A few months later I was talking with him, and he told me that when he saw that I had been healed, he gave his life to Jesus. Recently I shared my testimony at a women’s meeting. Later, a lady shared with me that she had been in total depression, her life falling apart, but that from hearing about my healing, she realized that if I could go through what I had and God was faithful, then He would be there for her.

And He will be there for you if you ask Him.