2003 - Christmas pic. Ralph, Debbie, Brigitte Ann (14), and R.P. (9).

Deb
2003. Brigitte was 14 and RP was 9.

Thanks, sweetie. :o)

Sometime in 2005 I received an attachment in an eMail from Debbie.
I add it below as she wrote it.

2005 - Debbie writes:

I have written this account for the benefit of my children, grandchildren, great-grandchildren, and so on. As stories get passed on from generation to generation, they change. Either they grow or become diminished. I do not want that to happen to this event in my life. It is too important. You need to know how powerful prayer and trust are.

Please, do not think that I was someone special or unique and that is why I was blessed as I was. I am merely another average person who tries to live life in order to please my God. I have my faults and weaknesses, not to mention sins, just like you. I am no better than you. I’ve just been undeservingly blessed. Praise Jesus!


Psalm 40: 1-3a

I waited patiently for the LORD,
And He inclined to me
And heard my cry.
He also brought me up out of a
horrible pit,
Out of the miry clay,
And set my feet upon a rock,
And established my steps.
He has put a new song in my mouth—
Praise to our God

10 - 4

It began in January of 2003. I awoke one Monday morning and noticed that I was gasping a few times during the day. Have you ever been around a toddler who has been crying hard for a long time? When they stop, they uncontrollably and suddenly gasp for air for a little while afterwards. That is exactly what I was doing.

Over the next two weeks, the gasping progressively worsened and happened more frequently. It happened when I talked or when I engaged in physical activity. I specifically remember having to take a break from loading the dishwasher because the gasping happened so often I felt as though I couldn’t get enough air. The next morning Ralph drove me to the emergency room to see what they had to say. I remember telling him that I felt silly because I felt perfectly fine except for the gasping. He assured me that it was OK to go and that they would know that something was wrong.

When we got there, as anyone who has ever gone to the ER knows, I had to answer a lot of questions. After about a five questions I began hyperventilating. They rushed me back to a room and had me breathe in one of those green, plastic masks they use to administer oxygen. Shortly thereafter, I began to breathe normally - until I started talking. The doctor felt it was from my hyperventilating and sent me home, telling me to see my family physician as soon as I could. I was discouraged that they didn’t give me a pill that would cure me. Surely there is a pill for everything now!

The next day I called my doctor first thing in the morning and through his receptionist, he said he wanted to see me that day. The only appointment she could make was at the normal closing time. “Great,” I thought, “this must be serious if he is willing to see me after hours.”

All day I laid in bed trying to rest. At one point I was laying on my right side, a paper bag in my left hand (in case I began to hyperventilate), with my right hand on my husbands pillow. As you can imagine, I was frightened thinking about all the things that could be wrong with me. I began to pray – again. At that moment a verse popped into my mind. It was from a book that a sweet lady from my Sunday School class gave me for Christmas.

“For I, the Lord your God, hold your right hand; it is I who say to you, “Fear not, I will help you.” Isaiah 41:13

While I was hearing the verse in my head I felt my right hand being firmly held. I opened my eyes, but no one was there! At least no one I could see. Instantly, I felt a peace within and knew that things would be OK. (Looking back, I should have known that I would be in for a trial like I’ve never had before.)

Now, I have never read Isaiah so I would not have known Isaiah 41:13. I believe it is no coincidence that my friend gave me that book just a couple of weeks before. I believe God lead her to do that, so He could comfort me through this verse at the time I needed Him most. Thank God for her obedience! That verse would stay with me during the upcoming months and provide quite a bit of comfort.

I arrived at the doctors’ that evening. He ordered some tests, gave me a prescription, and told me that he had never seen anything like this before. He wanted to see me again in a week.

The next week later I was back in his office. All the blood work came back normal. That was a relief and an answer to prayer. Still no change in my condition, though. Again, he wanted to see me in another week and told me that if I wasn’t better, he would refer me to a neurologist. A neurologist!?! Isn’t he someone who treats the brain and nerves!?! Why should I go to that kind of a doctor? What did my doctor think was wrong with me? This must be more serious than I think!

A week later I was at the neurologist, who also said he had never seen my condition before. He prescribed some heavy-duty medicine that knocked me out and took me for a loop. He wanted to see me in a month.

After two weeks, there was still no improvement. In fact, I was getting worse. I could barely talk. When I called the doctor and told him, he said to give it one more week and if I wasn’t better he would refer me to UVA’s Movement Disorders Department. The following week he made an appointment for me at UVA.

By now you can imagine I was very concerned. It was only through prayer, mine and those who cared about me and my family, the memory of my hand being held, and ‘my’ verse, that I didn’t lose it. Deep inside me I still felt God’s presence and knew that everything would be OK. I knew I was in His care and He only wanted the best for me. “OK, Lord, I am trusting you on this one. ‘Thy will be done’.”

On to UVA… Again I heard, “I’ve never seen this before. You’re an unusual case. I’m going to order several tests; an MRI, CAT scan, blood work. Oh, and take more drugs to see if that helps. I want to see you in two weeks.” Ugh. Dear Lord please heal me!

Two weeks later, there was no change so back to UVA. On the way there I remember praying that it wouldn’t be cancer, but ‘Your will be done’, Lord. I remember thinking that if I were to die, who would take care of my family? Would they be angry with You? Would my children turn from their faith? Would my husband never be saved? Thy will Lord, thy will be done. I trust You to see that they would grow closer to You through this. I give You my family. Please take care of them.

All tests came back normal. Thank God! But, what is wrong with me??? “Only you know Father. Please let the doctor know, too. Please give him wisdom in treating me.”

Since my condition was so unusual, this time the doctor asked if I would mind if he had the head of the neurology department examine me. Great, I’ve become a side show freak! No one knows what is wrong with me so they don’t know what to do for me.
This doctor agreed that my condition was unusual. He asked if I would mind if UVA would ‘write me up’! I truly was ‘wonder-ously’ made.*

At this point, I began to wonder if it was all in my head. (When several doctors tell you they have never seen a case like yours and that their treatment is essentially guess work, it really makes you wonder. In this day and age we are all led to believe that the medical community knows everything and can treat anything. “Modern medicine is wonderful” is what we are taught. I was learning very quickly that wasn’t always the case.) I asked God to help me see the cause of my condition and to deal with it so I could be well again. I was tired of this affliction. I wanted it to end. Please heal me!

Shortly after this visit my doctor discovered what I had: Leeuwenhoek Disease, also known as Respiratory Myoclonus. It is a rare condition (I was the 50th reported case in the past 300 years) in which the diaphragm spontaneously spasms. I still don’t understand how, but in some way the brain stem is involved.

My symptom at this time was gasping when I talked, sung, hummed, or walked, etc. On windy days and cold days, it was almost impossible to breathe. I always had to cover my mouth and nose in order to breathe in warm, still air. For some reason, rainy days irritated my condition. I could not tilt my head back without going into a gasping fit. Even bending over, at times, would trigger an ‘episode’. (That wasn’t always so bad because it gave me a good excuse not to do laundry and some other of my less favorite household chores J.) However, it also meant I couldn’t always do the enjoyable things like walking with my husband, playing in the snow with my kids, going to a concert with my daughter, or my son’s football games. I had to be selective about the things I did and when I did them. I had to make sure someone was around or, at least, I had a cell phone with me in case I had an episode. There went my independence. (Writing this now, I look back and see that while my independence was diminishing, my dependence on God was growing.)

Not only did I have to be careful about what I did, but because of the side effects of some of my medicine, I couldn’t drive. In the beginning I was so ‘drugged’, I couldn’t always cook or clean. Our dear friends and family all chipped in to cook for us. One time friends even came to clean our house. If you’ve never had someone clean your entire house while you sat in a recliner, you may not know how humbling that can be. Initially, I did not want those ladies there. This was mostly because I would feel ‘odd’ sitting there while they cleaned, but also because I was too proud. I thought about this. On one hand, my house was very dirty. It desperately needed to be cleaned and then I realized that by letting my friends clean they would be serving God. I did not want to stand in the way of anyone serving Him, so I swallowed my pride and let them come.

I think it was probably shortly there after (Spring) that things became routine. I’d have a doctor’s appointment, get a new prescription to try, and discuss future treatments. I had learned by then it was OK to choose which treatments/medicines I wanted to try. I also


* Isaiah 139:14b “…I am fearfully and wonderfully made….”


learned how to live daily life in order to keep my discomfort and episodes to a minimum. My husband, daughter, and son learned to live with me and my condition, too. (I think that at times they may have enjoyed my not being able to talk as much as usual!) I learned to be more selective in how much I would say when I talked. The dynamics of my immediate family changed, as you can imagine.

Up until this time, my prayers and conversations with God were pleas to give the doctors wisdom in treating me, to be cured, to not have a progressive disorder. About this time, I think my prayers changed from desperation to acceptance. I began to take it to heart that God allowed me to have this affliction and began to wonder for what reason. So I began praying that I would be the best testimony possible for Him and that I would bring Him glory in all that I did. I remember turning my life over to Him (in a different sort of way) and crying out that I just wanted to serve Him and live for Him. That was my focus.

In July our church youth were planning to go on IMPACT VA! (A team of youth leave for one week to work on low income houses with the goal to make them safe, warm, and dry.) Brigitte went the past year and was planning to go again. She came home on a Sunday from Youth and told me that they really needed another female chaperone. She asked me to go. I remember saying to her, “Are you kidding!?! Look at me. They aren’t going to want me there. I can’t.”

I believe it was the next week I was sitting in our recliner looking out the window as my family went on a walk around our land. I was having a pretty good pity party when suddenly I had such an urge to shingle a roof! I want to go to IV. I must be nuts! What am I thinking? But still the urge was there. I talked with Ralph to see what he thought. He said if I felt up to it, it was fine with him. By now I had no doubt that I could handle going because I knew that God would sustain me.

I called Ben, our youth pastor, the next morning telling him that I wanted to go to IV!, that I thought God was telling me to go.

“Really?” a pause, “I don’t know what to say.” was his reply. We talked about my condition and when he assured me I could remain at the school where we would be staying and rest - or even go home, if needed, I knew I was meant to go. So off I went with the youth, but not before our commissioning service on Sunday.

That was one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do. To get up in front of my church family, who had been praying for my physical condition during the past five months, and be commissioned to go on a trip that could be physically taxing. In one way I was embarrassed and felt like some would think “Is she nuts?” or “What is she trying to prove?” However, the other part of me knew I was doing what God wanted me to, and that was all that mattered. When I focused on that, I grew strong and my doubts and discomfort disappeared. (While I never got on the roof because of dizziness, I did finish out the week due to God’s faithfulness and strength.)

Once home, I began to become frustrated over my condition – again – and how I didn’t seem to be getting any better, just ‘settled’. I wanted to be well! To no avail I tried to teach myself to talk without gasping. I tried to do what I wanted and needed to, but couldn’t always. Everything had to be done slower, with help, or not at all. Lord, please, I just want to be well. Please let the doctors know how to cure me!

I talked with Ralph about a second opinion. We decided that it was definitely worth a try. I called my doctor at UVA and he gave me the name of the best movement disorder specialist, who happened to be at the University of Maryland. My appointment was for October. It was September. I could not wait. Again, I prayed for wisdom for this doctor and a cure.

October came and so did my appointment (or more aptly disappointment). Finally!!! This doctor diagnosed me as being depressed. DEPRESSED? No way. He told me I did not have a movement disorder – yet he asked me to fill out a survey on movement disorders before I left. I went home confused. I remember thinking on the way home that I didn’t feel depressed. I was very happy with my life save my condition. That was irksome to say the least. That was the cause of any ‘depressed’ feelings I may have had. However, this guy was supposed to be the best. I felt like he had just told me in so many words, that it was all in my head and I needed to get over it. I cried and cried and was ‘depressed’ for the next week.

I called my UVA doctor and asked what he thought. He and the head neurologist disagreed with the U of MD doctor. They both felt that upon an initial examination it would appeared that I was depressed, but after closer examination, getting to know me and my symptoms, you would realize I was not. My symptoms were too atypical – whatever that meant.

At this point I was really bewildered. I had two ‘expert’ sources giving me conflicting diagnoses. Again I cried and cried. One Sunday while I laid on my bed having another pity party, Ralph came in and asked me what was wrong. Through tears I tried to explain what I was feeling. He just looked at me and asked, “Do you think God let this happen for a reason?” “Well, yeah.” I relied. “Then why are you so upset?” What a slap in the face! I joking told him to shut up, but deep down, I knew he was right - again.

So, what could I do? Get a third opinion? Yes. So, back to my family doctor. (He was the first doctor I had seen and he had seen me a couple of times during the past nine months, so he was familiar with me and my condition.) He, too, disagreed with the U of MD diagnosis. He felt I was under ‘emotional distress’ due to my condition, but not depressed. He felt my condition was caused by a virus. OK, a virus. They can’t be treated with antibiotics. They have to run their course. But it’s been nine months!

Since the spring I had been really talking with God and reading His Word asking for insight. After the three diagnosises, I opened up my Bible, exasperated, not knowing where or what to read. I was thumbing through when I ‘stumbled’ upon James 5. I read the chapter and verse 14 stood out.

“Are any among you sick? They should call for the elders of the church and have them pray over them, anointing them with oil in the name of the Lord.”

Is this what I’m supposed to do? I had heard of people being prayed over. Did our pastor do that? All I could think of was the guy on TV who hits people on the forehead and yells, “You are healed!” I put the thought aside. That was not for me!

During the next week I heard this passage being discussed on the radio. Isn’t that something, I thought, I just read that the other day.

A few days later, I heard the same passage again. Jokingly, I thought, OK God, are you trying to tell me something? I don’t need to do that. I know that people all over the country are praying for me. That was for Bible times.

Then, the following week, I heard it again! I thought Wow! Maybe I am supposed to be prayed over. But so many people are already praying for me. (Are you realizing how dense and slow I can be? Thank God He is patient!)

Up till now, I had not told anyone what I was thinking. I wanted to be sure that this was God’s will. I prayed for a clear answer. I prayed for direction. I told my Heavenly Father that if He wanted me to do this, I would, but I had to be sure it was His will and not what other people thought I should do. I did not want to be influenced by anyone. Again I asked why/reasoned that I didn’t need to do this because so many people were praying for me. Please send me a sign letting me know this is Your will.

The following Tuesday at our group school I was talking with my neighbor and she told me that her husband was feeling lead to pray over me, but he hadn’t because he wasn’t sure what I would think. I got chills and thought, OK. I am pretty sure I am supposed to be prayed over.

I went home and reread James 5: 14 and the words appeared to be raised, literally, above all the other words on the page. OK. It certainly seems that I’m supposed to be prayed over.

BUT, let me read that verse again. (At this point am I sure God rolled His eyes and sighed.)

“Are any among you sick?” …yes, that would be me.

“They should call for the elders of the church and have them pray over them, anointing them with oil in the name of the Lord.” …but why? There are so many praying for me now! But here it is. In black and white. No’ ifs’, ‘ands’, or ‘buts’. How can I deny that? It is very clearly written with no chance of interpreting anything to the contrary. I need to talk with Temple and find out more about this.

The next morning I e-mailed Temple and asked him about it. He told me what I could expect.

The whole idea was still so foreign to me that the mere thought of it made me very uncomfortable. I took a couple of days to pray, think, and talk with my husband about it.

I had some concerns. Mainly: what would it ‘say’ if I was not healed? I would have to accept that as God’s will for me and possibly for the rest of my life. I did NOT want that to be the case. However, I know that God’s answers are: yes, no, and not now/later. I was also concerned how it would affect non-believers if I wasn’t healed. Would they view it as there being no God? And, if I was healed, what would I do with that gift?

After much prayer, I felt God was telling me that if I wouldn’t be healed it would be alright because He would take care of and strengthen me. It would be His will. I also felt He told me that it was not my responsibility to worry about the non-believers reaction; rather my responsibility was to do what he wanted me to, to follow Him and trust Him – no matter what the outcome.

One morning while stepping out of the shower, one foot in the tub, one foot out, I heard a deep voice in my head,

“And what would you do with a healing?”

I guess whatever You want me to do with it, was my reply. I knew that God would strengthen me as needed.

I decided that if I would ask for healing, publicly and formally, following God’s outline, I would not expect a healing, but I also wouldn’t expect not to be healed. I knew in the very marrow of my bones and heart that if He wanted me well, He could do it in less than an instant. I would simply expect God’s will to be expressed.

So, I took a HUGE, cautious, timid, trusting, step way outside my comfort zone* and decided to be prayed over as a symbol of my submission and faith in God. Whatever would come of it, I would trust the Lord to help me. On Friday I e-mailed Temple and told him I wanted to be prayed over.

On the morning of November 24, I went to church. I left early for two reasons. I had to take RP with me because we were home schooling him and I wanted to drop him off at the PE class that was meeting in the church’s gym. Second, I wanted to go to the sanctuary and pray and be by myself before ‘the event’.


* Now when I hear the Casting Crowns song, “Voice of Truth”, I smile. There is a line that says, “Oh, what I would do to have the kind of faith it takes…to step out of my comfort zone, into the realm of the unknown, where Jesus is, and He’s holding out his hand…” And, I know if must be His right hand He is holding out!

At about 2:30 everyone was there so we began. I sat in a chair in Temple’s office while everyone else (7 people) stood in a circle around me. Temple anointed me with oil, making a cross on my forehead in the name of Jesus. They put their hands on my head and shoulders and one by one began to pray for my healing. When everyone was finished they hugged me and left the room. As this was a moving thing for me, I stayed for a few minutes and wiped my eyes and blew my nose. That was when Temple came in. We talked for just a few minutes and I heard myself gasping. I thought Oh, it didn’t work. But that’s OK! I had a peace about me. I then left the church and by the time I was less than a mile a way, I realized that I had not gasped. I drove on a couple of more miles talking to RP the while. Still no gasping! I thought I think I may have been healed! A couple of more miles and still no more gasping! Did you really heal me Lord? Am I really healed? I think I’m healed! I asked RP if he noticed I wasn’t gasping and he said no. Oh, I thought it must just be me. But then a couple of more miles down the road and we knew I wasn’t gasping. It was then that Psalm 139: 5-6 came to mind (I had read the Psalm that morning).

“You…lay Your hand upon me. Such knowledge is too wonderful for me…” AMEN!!!

God choose to heal me! Insignificant, little, ol’ me. I was humbled, yet thrilled.

When I got home I tried to call Ralph, but he was in a meeting. I called Patti and said “I think I’ve been healed! Talk to me!” She did and we were both amazed! I was!!! Finally Ralph called. He made me say the months of the year. (This was a trick the doctors used to gauge my gasping.) I did and then I said the alphabet and began counting. Laughing, he told me to stop and agreed that I had been healed. He, too, was amazed.

As you can imagine I called everyone who was close to me to share the good news. God had healed me! Praise be to Him!

***************

A year has past. I have never felt better! Praise God. Looking back at my (I say ‘my’ because it happened to me, not to claim it as my action) healing experience, I chuckle. It should have been so simple. God’s word is clear and all I had to do was submit myself and trust Him. I am a Christian. Why was that so difficult to do? How many times have I (and others) denied Jesus a miracle because of our culture-imposed limits? Because we thought some action or lack of one was for Biblical times?

I like to think that my faith has grown during the past year, that I am more devoted to Him than ever. However, I know myself and how my sinful nature creeps in, and so I wonder at times: If I were in another life altering trial how I would respond? Would I be as slow to respond to God’s will?

I am thankful for my restored health, my devoted husband, understanding kids, faithful family, friends, church family, and God’s patience and grace. But what I am most thankful for is a God who gave His beloved Son, Jesus Christ, as a sacrifice for my sins. Without whom I would not know James 5:14 or be able to approach my Heavenly Father with my requests.

Praise be to God!!!