So, you say you don’t believe in miracles. Well, then, let me try to change your mind.
The story begins with my mother. She’s had a rough year medically. Between mini-strokes, congestive heart failure, and a slew of other ailments, she’s spent weeks in the hospital and in rehab, mostly alone due to Covid restrictions. Not even my son’s girlfriend, a nurse on another floor, could visit.
Lonely, depressed, and tired of feeling sick, my normally upbeat 87-year-old mother prayed to Jesus, asking him to take her home. She’d never prayed for death before, but that’s how low her spirits had sunk.
That night in February, she learned what Jesus thought of her request.
“I don’t want you yet. Your time hasn’t come,” He said in a dream, leaving more questions than answers.
A few days after her release, not quite healed and still struggling to eat and walk on her own, my mother asked, “Do you think God really came to me?”
“Absolutely,” I said. “Tell me more.”
But Mom offered no further details and nothing more was mentioned.
Second Part of the Message
Despite Jesus’s confirmation that death wasn’t imminent, Mom wasn’t progressing on the road to wellness.
In March, she was hospitalized again, and then again in April. She was on a merry-go-round with her fistful of drugs prescribed to regulate everything from blood pressure and pulse rate to water and salt retention. One problem solved, another popped up. She was playing a game of whack-a-mole.
By June, Mom finally turned the corner, and that’s when she revealed the second part of Jesus’s conversation with her.
But let me provide some context. Six or seven years ago, my niece, Katie, then 33, discovered she was pregnant, a happy occasion for her family. Her four-year-old son, Eli, had been wanting a brother or sister for as long as he could remember.
But something wasn’t right. While pregnancy tests confirmed her condition, ultrasounds found no trace of a fertilized egg inside her uterus.
Her trauma was just beginning.
While eating dinner, Katie experienced abdominal pains so sharp she ran to the bathroom, vomited, and passed out on the floor. In and out of consciousness, she was vaguely aware of Eli seeing her curled up into a ball before her husband, Matt, took him to another room.
Ruptured Fallopian tubes due to an ectopic or tubal pregnancy is serious business. She nearly died from the internal bleeding.
“It changed him for sure,” said Katie, now 40, referring to Eli. “He and Matt became very, very protective of me.”
Given her “advanced maternal age”—a term her doctors use—and only one Fallopian tube, Katie had little hope of ever having a successful pregnancy.
“It was a 50-50 chance, and if it did happen, it would be high-risk,” she said. “I was scared. We were all afraid. I got on with my life and figured it would be just the three of us, a happy, little tripod family. This was the life we were supposed to have.”
God’s Other Plans
But God had other plans.
Katie did get pregnant. She found out in June. When she told her Mom-Mom, my mother acted unsurprised. “She said she kind of knew already,” Katie said. ‘“Remember when Jesus came to me in that dream? He said something else,'” my mother to Katie. ‘”He asked me, ‘Don’t you want to see the miracle baby?’”
At first, Katie thought her grandmother was trying to be “the wise, old woman.” Why didn’t she mention a baby to begin with? ‘“I didn’t know who might become pregnant and didn’t want to raise false hopes,”’ my mother explained. But another piece of information turned Katie’s head completely around.
“She also told me it was a girl,” Katie said. “I just found out yesterday. It’s a girl, a very healthy girl. Everything is as it should be. Mom-Mom’s batting a thousand.”
My mother, who prayed for death in February and struggled during the intervening months, never lost hope after the dream.
But Katie’s miraculous news has added pep to her step. She’s tossed the walker, and rarely uses her cane. She climbs steps and goes out Friday nights to watch my sister and brother-in-law play shuffleboard with their friends, something she hasn’t done since the first stroke in February.
She sounds stronger on the phone and more engaged in conversation, interested in what people have to say. She’s visited her beach house several times this summer—something no one expected earlier this year.
My mom has a new lease on life, and fully intends to meet the miracle baby Jesus promised she would see. God, in His own timing, has sealed her hope and reason to live.
But think about young Eli, who was barely out of toddlerhood when he saw his mother writhing on the floor. God is providing something he always wanted—the chance to be a big brother.
“It is uplifting,” Katie said, when I asked her if I could share her story and the short video her husband took when Eli learned the news. “This has been a crazy journey. Someone might find hope from it.” God has done a beautiful thing and I think He wants me to share that beauty with you. Watch the video and see for yourself.