The Healer She Could Only Imagine
The sun filtered through the alder trees on the hillside, causing our drenched lawn to glisten in the morning light. Saturated from an overnight storm, the ground still held small puddles.
We often had rain in Westport, Oregon. Sometimes, it seemed like the towns along the lower Columbia River basin experienced only two kinds of weather: wet and wetter. The night before had been one of the wetter ones. I decided to take advantage of the clear, dry conditions before the next storm moved in. My first project: trim back the wild blackberry forest that had spread out in every direction, crowding out the church’s gravel parking lot.
After cutting blackberry vines for almost an hour, I heard the parsonage phone ring. I sprinted to the house, but by the time I got inside, the ringing had stopped. Out of breath, I paused a few minutes to see if my voicemail had recorded a message. The message indicator remained off.
“Hmmm, I wonder who was calling this early.” I sat at the kitchen counter, poured another cup of coffee, and waited to see if the phone would ring again. It did. The person on the other end told me her name was Marilyn.
A physician from a nearby hospital had suggested that Marilyn talk with a minister or personal counselor. She had tried calling several churches listed in the Clatskanie Yellow Pages, but no one answered their phones or returned her messages. Frustrated, she decided to run some errands in town, fill her gas tank, and pick up a prescription at Hi-School Pharmacy.
She told me she had arrived at the drugstore a few minutes after it opened. Fortunately, only a few shoppers were milling about. As the pharmacist filled her order, she had waited silently, her eyes fixed on the floor. Attempting to make conversation, Becky, the pharmacy technician, inquired, “So, how are we doing today?”
Marilyn had broken down in tears, telling Becky about her lousy Monday morning and being unable to find a minister to consult with. Becky suggested she try the Westport Assembly of God Church and gave her my home phone number.
My conversation with Marilyn was brief. She wanted to see me, the sooner the better. She would give me the reason in person.
The next morning, Tuesday, at ten o’clock, I met with her in the church office. Her story broke my heart. Marilyn’s mother had been in a coma at Columbia Memorial Hospital in Astoria, Oregon, for weeks. Vital organs were shutting down. Feeding tubes and a ventilator were keeping her alive. The attending physician had told Marilyn he and the hospital staff could do nothing more. He recommended removing the life support and allowing her mother to pass on.
Marilyn told me she had never been a religious person. In fact, she wasn’t sure if God even existed. However, to please the concerned hospital doctor, she agreed to consult with a minister before making any final decision concerning her mother.
As Marilyn talked, tears ran down her cheeks. She looked emotionally worn out. She did not want to lose her mother, but didn’t know how she could let her continue in a hopeless state.
“I only wish I had a little more time with Mom,” she sighed.
I assumed Marilyn would ask me to go with her to the hospital, but she just wanted prayer to cope with her loss. Apparently, she had already made her decision based on the doctor’s recommendation.
I didn’t inquire about her mother’s life story or ask for details about her illness. It didn’t seem appropriate, considering the situation. I wept in my heart for her. Although I felt inadequate, I prayed for her to have strength and direction, and then added, “If a miracle is still possible, please give Marilyn her mother back.” I ended with a quiet “Amen.”
She only smiled a sad smile.
She arranged with the attending physician to disconnect her mom’s life support on Thursday. Marilyn called me before leaving for the hospital to see if I could pray with her one more time. I asked her if she wanted me to accompany her, but she replied, “No, Reverend, this is something I have to do on my own.”
So I offered another prayer, similar to the first, but this time Marilyn said “Amen” with me. She promised to call me back when it was over.
I waited for hours, but never heard back. Worry inundated my thoughts. I wondered if something had happened to Marilyn. Knowing how distraught she felt, the thought of her committing suicide crossed my mind. I started looking up the phone number for the hospital, when the phone rang. In haste, I almost dropped the receiver.
“Hello, Marilyn, is that you?”
I think she said yes, but someone nearby was talking with her, too, so I hesitated. After waiting a few more seconds, I continued with my rehearsed reply, “Marilyn, I am so sorry for your . . .” She cut me off mid-sentence.
“Reverend, you’ll never guess what happened when they unplugged the life support equipment. My mom sat up in bed, looked around the room, and said, ‘What the . . . !’ I’ve been talking with Mom nonstop for two hours now. The staff already gave her some liquids and she’s been eating gelatin and sipping chicken broth. She used the restroom, took a few steps around the hall, and now she’s sitting in a chair. This is so wonderful! Her doctor thinks she can go home in a few days, after they figure out what happened. But I know what happened. It was a miracle, and the nursing staff believes it was a miracle, too. I am so happy! God is real after all. I have to go now. Just wanted to say thank you.”
Overwhelmed, I thanked her for calling back and said something trivial like “You’re welcome.” However, I really don’t think my efforts had anything to do with the outcome. Rather, it was a daughter’s belief in a God she didn’t know or understand, yet hoped would answer prayer and perform a miracle. All Marilyn desired was a little more time with her mother. In the end, God gave her more than she ever imagined.
I may not understand everything about divine intervention, miracles, or answered prayer. However, I have come to realize one thing: When we place our hope in God, the direst circumstances can become a springboard for the miraculous.
According to the apostle Paul, “[God] is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to his power that is at work within us” (Ephesians 3:20).
Sometimes a simple Amen in faith is all that’s needed.