Monday, December 5, 2016

A Christmas miracle: When death took a detour

Miracle - A surprising and welcome event that is not explicable by natural or scientific laws and is therefore considered to be the work of a divine agency.— Webster's dictionary

believe in miracles. I have enough faith to expect them to happen in my life in when I pray. Even though we don't hear enough about divine miracles nowadays, they do still happen. I know because I was the recipient of a divine miracle on Christmas Day 2002. The following is a true account of that miracle and the events as they occurred that day.

To give you a little background, by December of that year, I had been caring for my 83 year old mother throughout her 22 year battle with primary progressive Multiple Sclerosis (MS). MS had long ago taken away her ability to walk, but by 2002, Mom had also lost her ability to speak, feed herself, chew or swallow. At the same time, she started having seizures, which gradually became more persistent, unrelenting, and life-threatening. As a result, Mom was hospitalized and given high doses of phenobarbital to quell the seizures. We left the hospital 12 days later, just three days before Christmas.

Even though mother couldn't speak, her eyes told me that she was glad to be back home. We both were. After I made her comfortable in bed and checked her feeding tube, I took a break to rest. When I returned to check on her, I noticed that Mom was staring hard at the window at the foot of her bed. She appeared not to even notice that I had entered the room. This was not like her. I stood by her bedside calling her name, but she paid me no notice. Instead, she was focused hard at the foot of her bed like she saw something something in her room that my eyes couldn't see. The look on her face more radiant than I'd ever seen her. She was literally glowing, smiling even. I stood there waiting for her to finally notice me. I said nothing about what I had witnessed. As I readied the IV pole for her feeding, she looked directly at me, and with a trembling hand waved me off. I knew what she was asking, so I said, "Mom I can't not feed you that's between you and Jesus."

The next morning, the home care nurse came by for a routine check of Mom's vital signs. 
After the nurse left, I bathed, dressed, and transferred mother to her wheelchair. She was happy to be out of bed. The long hospital stay had been tough on her, but I told her that we were not going to let MS get the better of us; that we were in this fight together to the end.
I combed her hair before leaving her in the care of the aide while I went to the store. When I returned, the aide said Mom had called my name and then went to sleep. After letting the aide out, I went to check on Mom. When I couldn't wake her, I realized that she was not asleep, but had slipped quietly into a coma. It was Christmas Eve.

I really didn't know what else to do except put her to bed and hope that she would pull through as she had done in the past. Even though things were not looking good at that point, I made the decision not to take her back to the hospital. Instead, I called for the home care nurse, and left her a message to come. Going back to the hospital was not an option for us. It was Mom's wish and mine that when death came he would find her at home.  I called my sister and waited for her to come. During the long hours I was alone, I held Mom's hand and talked to her. I believed that even in her comatose state, she could still hear me.

Later that evening, my sister joined me in a bedside vigil for our mother. Together we stood watch as imminent death seemed poised to take our mother from us. I don't remember why, but for some reason, I needed something from the drugstore. My sister volunteered to go. It was after midnight when she left for the 24-hour pharmacy a few blocks away. It seemed like she was gone for a longer than usual time. I wondered if she was somewhere crying? I went over to the window to look out. It was snowing. It was then I realized it was Christmas Day.

Still alone, I returned to mother's bedside and reached for her hand. I was surprised by how cold it had become. I started rubbing her arms, legs, feet—I was startled by how ice cold they all were— like the life blood had suddenly drained out of them. I checked her to see if she was still breathing. She was, but just barely. Her breathing was shallow and made a faint rattling noise when she exhaled. I ran to the other side of the bed to check the 1,000 ml drainage bag that hung there. It should have been full of urine since she was still taking in fluids through the feeding tube. But, it was empty except for a reddish-brown stain at the bottom. My immediate thought was that her kidneys had shut down. For the first time, I allowed myself to entertain the real possibility that Mom was slipping away; that she was in fact dying. In desperation, I cried aloud—
"Mom, it's Christmas Day. Please don't die on Christmas."
Just at that moment, I got an sudden urge to use the bathroom. When I returned moments later, I took Mom's hand again, but something was different. Her hand felt noticeably warmer. Surprised by this, I began feeling for her arms, her legs, her feet, her forehead—her entire body was now feverishly hot. Quickly I went to the other side of the bed to check her drainage bag. The bag was filled to overflowing with clear, yellow urine after having been empty only moments before.

At that moment, I realized what God had done—stopping death in it's tracks. He heard my  plea and performed a miracle. I can just imagine Mom engaging in a negotiation with the angel just outside the gates of Heaven, her holding up one finger and pleading with God—

"Please God, can I go back for one more day? That's my daughter."
Mom died, but not on Christmas Day. She died the day after on December 26 sometime around 2:00 pm. This time my sister and I were together when mother breathed her last. This might have been the end of the story were it not for what Jesus Christ did long ago in dying for our sins so that we could be reconciled to God. Because of Christ, life doesn't end at the grave. And whoever believes in Christ is assured of eternal life. I can't wait to see mother again to find out what really happened on that fateful Christmas Day.
God loved the people of this world so much that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who has faith in him will have eternal life and never really die. John 3:16 CEV

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