Reprieve

I can’t say I wasn’t warned.

When my sister returned my dish, it still held about a third of the apple crisp I had taken to a family party. “But don’t eat it,” she said. “It’s been sitting in my car for days.”

After she left, I considered the leftover crisp thoughtfully. It looked good to me. There was no sign of mold or other spoilage. It smelled good, too. I put it in the microwave until it was smoking hot, thinking that should kill any bacteria that might be there. And when it had cooled down a bit, I dug in.

I was right about one thing – it still tasted good. But I was wrong about it being safe to eat. Within a few hours, I was experiencing debilitating abdominal pain. I spent most of the rest of the day curled up in agony in the bathroom, vomiting every 15 minutes or so.

I kept telling myself that this couldn’t continue much longer; that surely before long, I would have expelled (from one end or the other) the noxious stuff. But as the hours passed. I began to worry. It was the first Wednesday in December, and I was in charge of the Relief Society meeting that would be held that evening. None of the members of the Relief Society presidency were going to be there. I had planned the meeting alone, and I was the only person who knew what should happen. I felt (perhaps incorrectly) that if I didn’t show up, there would be no Relief Society Christmas Meeting. I began to pray more fervently for the Lord to heal me. But my agony of sickness continued.

Twenty minutes before the meeting was scheduled to start, I suddenly felt better. I changed my clothes, gathered my materials, and drove to the church. I knew I had been miraculously healed, and I was grateful.

The meeting was wonderful. I arranged the chairs in the Relief Society room into a half-circle, so the sisters could easily see and hear each other. We began the meeting with a prayer, and then I invited each of the women to share a favorite Christmas memory.

Each sister in turn shared a story, and the Spirit of God grew stronger every minute. I looked around and was struck by how beautiful everyone was. I believe that everyone there was very moved. 

When everyone had shared an experience, I passed out the words to a little-known Christmas song I had come across in my preparations for the meeting. Although none of the women had ever heard the song, I assured them that they could sing it, because it had the same tune as a familiar hymn, In Humility, Our Savior. I loved the idea that this song about the Savior’s birth would parallel a song we usually sang before the Sacrament was given. I struggled with sweet, deep emotions as we sang these words together:

Come, Thou long expected Jesus,

Born to set Thy people free;

From our fears and sins release us,

Let us find our rest in Thee.

Israel’s Strength and Consolation,

Hope of all the earth Thou art;

Dear Desire of every nation,

 Joy of every longing heart.

Born Thy people to deliver, 

Born a child and yet a King

Born to reign in us forever,

Now Thy gracious kingdom bring.

By Thine own eternal Spirit

Rule in all our hearts alone;

By Thine all sufficient merit,

Raise us to Thy glorious throne.

We enjoyed some light refreshments, and the meeting ended. I cleaned up a little before I headed for home. How wonderful that I had not felt at all sick during the meeting!

As soon as stepped into my house, I felt awful. I ran to the bathroom, and stayed much of the night, filling the toilet again and again.

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Next story – five + years later:

No one seemed to know what was wrong with me. I had been dragged to every doctor we could think of, and had received every test those doctors could think of. But nothing explained why I had suddenly lost forty pounds, become unable to walk straight, and was so tired and weak that I was essentially bedridden for three months.

During this time, my daughter Elisabeth turned eight, and her baptism was scheduled for a few weeks later. I hoped I would feel well by then.

I didn’t. The night before her baptism, I cried out to my Heavenly Father, telling Him how important it was to me to see Elisabeth baptized. I was determined to attend, even if I had to be carried in on a stretcher. But I hoped and prayed for better than that.

The next morning, I woke up and tentatively tried to get out of bed. I did it! I felt okay!

I showered, dressed, and went with my family to the Stake Center. I helped Elisabeth change into her baptismal clothing and joyfully watched my husband baptize her. I helped her get dried off and dressed in her cute new dress. I beamed as I saw her confirmed.  And then I went home and served lunch to the out-of-town relatives who had come for the event.

There was no question that my prayers had been answered. I felt great. I knew I had been the beneficiary of a Divine healing.

The next morning, I could not eat or get out of bed. A few weeks later, we finally learned why – I had a small cancerous brain tumor.

I’ve been thinking about these two events in my life. There are, I suppose, a number of lessons there. But this is the one that has been most prominent in my mind: God can heal me. He can heal me for an hour, or for a day. I believe He can heal me, can make me well, for a week, or for a month, or for the rest of my life. Why then, why doesn’t He?

I don’t have the full answer to that question. I do know this: He lives. I am His daughter. He knows my name; He knows my strengths; He knows my weaknesses. He wants the very best for me. He loves me with a perfect Father’s love.

I also know this: I have been richly blessed throughout my life, far beyond anything I could ever earn or deserve.

So, no, I don’t have all the answers. But I guess I’m starting to realize that I do have some of them. And maybe that’s enough for now.