After the wedding, the new job began effortlessly and even felt as if it was somehow meant to be. I quickly connected with Gloria, the clinic nurse, a woman in her late thirties and a single parent of a teenaged daughter. We realized early on that we had many things in common, not the least of which was the difficult job of being a single parent. We lunched together, went out for coffee on occasion, and sometimes we’d even talk about God and religion.
Neither of us would have used the term religious as such, but both of us seemed to have the desire to find something to fill that strange yearning or empty feeling inside. Now at 29, people had continually let me down in my adult life, and I tired quickly of all the games. In my mind and after many failed relationships, I remember chanting over and over again, “There must be something better out there than this.”
And so there I was; working again when for the first time in my adult life I didn’t have to. Perhaps I had been spiritually drawn to this place and this person because what ended up happening couldn’t be explained any other way. It happened one day when I found the doctors and other staff huddled in the center of the office pouring over papers together. When they turned and looked at me, I could tell by their forlorn faces that something was very wrong. Gloria had a brain tumor, a nasty aggressive one, and the test results and specialist’s prognosis weren’t good.
Upon hearing the diagnosis, a wave of wonder washed over me…and I knew: she was going to be okay. And so with a great deal of conviction and as if I had just received a message from God Himself, I told the others, “Don’t worry; she’s going to be okay.” No matter how many times I said it, their faces never changed. I thought about it some more and wondered if maybe my prediction had sounded more like a platitude than the Truth it was to me. It wasn’t ‘just the proper thing to say’…it was something far more profound. In my heart, I just knew somehow.
Over the next few months, the staff followed the reports as they arrived. With each new report, their faces became even more forlorn. The office conversation began to move regularly around Gloria and her daughter; she was so young; it was such an aggressive cancer; no hope, no cure; what would her daughter do without her? I even struggled from time to time with my overwhelming conviction that she was going to be okay. After all, what did I know, who did I think I was, and how could I possibly predict something so incredible?
Gloria was set for surgery; they would burr a hole in her skull near the tumor site and insert a reservoir to be used for the chemotherapy injections later on. Closer to the date, I called her to ask if I could visit her in the hospital the day before her operation. It had been the first time in months that she’d actually talked to someone from the office. She replied with a resounding yes and so I travelled the 120 miles. I never questioned why, and I didn’t even blink an eye over the trip.
I entered her room, and as if the Red Sea was parting, her visitors, much to my protest, got up immediately and left the room. I merely told Gloria that I didn’t know why, and I didn’t know where the message came from, but I knew, I just knew with everything inside of me that she was going to pull through this and she would survive. We said a brief prayer together and I left.
As I exited the room however, it became instantly clear to me that I wasn’t walking. I couldn’t feel my feet falling on the floor; the jar or effort of walking; nothing. I was floating down the hall as surely as I’m sitting here today. There were people all around me, conversing, crying, talking, working, and yet all the noise was muffled, and my peripheral vision was foggy. I remember making a detailed observation in my mind about this amazing experience because nothing like it had ever happened before. I knew they certainly weren’t going to believe this one back at the office.
We read subsequent medical reports confirming her surgery had been successful, and then one more report arrived from her Surgeon. He had taken an X-ray two weeks following her surgery to make certain the reservoir was correctly in place before starting chemo. His report explained that the X-ray revealed the tumor was gone. At the office, I could have knocked them over with a feather!
My husband had already been transferred half a continent away and within days of hearing this great news about Gloria, my son and I followed him so I didn’t get a chance to follow up with Gloria. I returned three years later and drove out to see her however…because again, somehow I knew she’d still be there even though we hadn’t kept in touch. Her daughter answered the door, now a young woman, and right behind her was Gloria, the picture of sweet, sweet hope and health.
Life is strong. Life is determined and tenacious. Although this was an amazing miracle to witness, I can barely believe I wouldn’t reap the full rewards of what it really meant for many, many years.
….to be continued
Wedding Day, 1980 – Faye Thornton – All Rights Reserved
A walk in the woods – maridav @ 123rf Stock Photos
Diagnosis – nyul @ 123rf Stock Photos
Floating – TylerOlson @ 123rf Stock Photos
Miracles – blueone @ 123rf Stock Photos
Recent Faye Thornton Articles:
- A Journey To Spirit #24: Divine Messages
- A Journey to Spirit #23: The Big C
- A Journey to Spirit #22: And Now It Was Done
- A Journey to Spirit # 21: And So It Began…
- A Journey to Spirit #20: Breathless Heart