Good Morning. . . 'Need a God of miracles?

It was a little more than eight years ago that our family of six moved from the San Francisco Bay Area to Southern California. We were settling into our new San Clemente neighborhood nicely, which was no small feat with Matthew-a senior, Amy-a junior in high school, Dylan-5, and Danny, two years old. Just six weeks into our new life, Danny (2) came walking into our room on a Monday morning--limping--which was kinda' odd because it came out of nowhere. A little later, he was reluctant to walk, and I thought I better take him to a doctor. After being reassured by a leading pediatrician that there was nothing wrong with my boy (except for a mild ear infection that he treated with Zithromax), I returned home. The next day, he was swollen around his eyes, and still limping. Our family has never had allergies, but given a new area, and construction being done on our house, I waited. . . three days later, I returned to the same physician, who once again assured me there was nothing wrong with my little son. I said, 'Look, I'm not an over-reactor; he is my youngest of four children. . . but something isn't right here. . .' The doctor patted me on the back, and told me my son was just fine.

Three days later, I took him upstairs to give him a bath, and as I pulled his little Nike sweatpants down, his legs were very swollen, but worse--his diaper was drenched with dark-red (sorry) blood; I'm no rocket scientist, but I knew we were in big trouble. I consulted my family medical book, and knew we were dealing with his kidneys. After a call to the same doctor, advising him of the situation, he told me to take Danny to Children's Hospital Orange County (CHOC) immediately; and to pack a bag because we were going to be there a while.

In the ensuing hours, we learned that Danny was very sick. The next day we found out that indeed, his kidneys had failed. His blood pressure, sodium, potassium, cholesterol, and kidney levels (b.u.n.) were off the charts, and they, the specialists, could not figure out the cause. Three days later, Dean coaxed me to take a break from the hospital, and sent me to the high school to see Amy's volleyball game, because the other kids needed attention, too. At the game, an old saintly lady approached me--she said something like, 'Honey, I know your son is very sick, and well, I want to pray with you, and ask God to do a miracle.' I looked at her and said from my broken-hearted, sleep-deprived state, 'yes, okay, please pray.' She did. I'll never forget that lady. . . that saintly lady. I'll never forget that encounter. In all of my growing up years as a Christian, and on into adulthood, no one had ever told me I could still pray, and ask God for miracles, until this lady.

After five days in the hospital, we were sent home, with no prognosis, no diagnosis, and not much hope. Danny was continuing to lose blood; there seemed to be no stopping it, and here we were--being treated by the experts, and they couldn't figure out what had caused it all. So, home we went--taking his blood pressure every couple hours, administering drugs, and hoping and praying. . .

The first of the following week, we took Danny for more blood work--and then got the call, 'take him to CHOC Orange--Intensive Care Unit--he has lost so much blood, he is in dangerous territory.' We took our sick little guy, admitted him, and soon had IVs in both arms and legs; he was prepped for a needle biopsy to get some kidney tissue that could be analyzed for diagnosis and treatment. The day dragged on while we waited for the nurse to come get us to take us to the O.R. for the procedure; instead, a team of about six hematologists came in, and surrounded our bed. They had found a bleeding disorder, (Von Willebrand's Disease), and if a needle biopsy was performed, Danny might likely bleed to death on the table. What?! He was just playing with his pal, Cameron, his new next-door neighbor, also two, trying to ride a skateboard to keep up with his brothers, and now, a bleeding disorder? kidney failure?! It was just too much. It was the first time I realized that his life was literally ebbing out of him, and well, maybe we wouldn't take him home--at all.

What I didn't know was that our home church, (from the Bay Area), had called people off the job at 2:00 and 7:00 p.m. to come and pray for Danny. . . pray they did, as well as this little saintly stranger lady, and many others. The next morning, Danny was taken into surgery--yes, major surgery--where a piece of the kidney could be extracted for analysis. We had our first miracle--the blood was tested, and the doctor came back in to say, 'this is unusual, but the bleeding order does not present'--meaning that it was not there--the Von Willebrand's Disease was removed from our plate of trials. Then, the second miracle--he lost only a 1/2 teaspoon of blood; shocking, since they had been afraid he would 'bleed out' on the operating table. And then. . . well, we waited for a diagnosis and all that was to follow. I remember holding Danny through the night--getting out my Bible--looking up verses to cling to--because you see, I never doubted that God was in control--I never doubted that His heart toward us was good--but dog-gone-it, I was going to hold Him at His word that He would not give us any more than we could handle. . . that the effective prayer of a righteous person avails much!! "Oh, God, come and save my baby!" I prayed.

The day after surgery, we were once again sent home--no diagnosis, prognosis, etc., with the best we could hope for being a transplant. The kidney tissue was sent out for extensive testing, and finally the answers came. He did indeed have a kidney disorder--no, three disorders! The nephrologist, an Israeli-trained nephrologist told me that, 'well, this case has been most unusual from the start.' He had an allergic reaction to the Zithromax (disorder #1), he had A.T.N. (Acute Tubular Necrosis--4 in 10,000 people), and he had an infection that had gone to his kidneys (post-infectious nephritis). But, listen to this--all three were REVERSIBLE, WITHOUT treatment, and would leave NO LASTING DAMAGE. "What?!" I cried, "Dr. Ben-Nezzer, I would like to think God has done a miracle!" Silence, followed by, "I would say you are 100 percent correct."

The next day, I took him back to CHOC to see Dr. B-E--the first thing she said was, "Did you tell your praying friends that God has done a miracle?" Oh, of course, I had, and I did, over and over again. . .

Well, I learned something else in the school of miracles: they aren't necessarily immediate. It would be another couple months before all of Danny's symptoms were gone, but at a six-month check, he got a clean bill of health. Praise God! And now, at 10 and in the 5th grade, he is the picture of health and vigor; he is athletic, all BOY and funny--Danny has been a joy.

James 5.14-16 - Is any one of you sick? He should call the elders of the church to pray for him. . . and the prayer offered in faith will make the sick person well, the Lord will raise him up. . . the prayer of a righteous man is powerful and effective.

After Danny's miracle, my faith was GREATLY increased; I became impassioned with what God wanted to do in, for, and through His people. (subsequently, I started Women of Passion) Since then, I have had the privilege of praying for many a sick person, and have had the boldness to ask God for the miracle...and I've seen His healing power again and again. Nothing great about my prayers, I just had enough faith to ask for the miracle. Clearly, God does not heal all folks here on earth--some have to wait for Heaven for that. But Christian, listen--it is ours to pray for the sick to be healed.

I'm sorry for the lengthiness of today's Morning Briefing, but you see, some eyes who are reading this NEED a miracle right now. Be encouraged. . . be of good faith. . . and ask God for the miracle!

Christine