Through the first four years of my eldest son’s life I watched helplessly but praying continually for God’s mercy and help. My husband Charlie and I were of the “working man” or “blue collar” group. We had no health insurance and mounting doctor and hospital bills that never ended as we went from one doctor or specialist to another.

Our son, Charles Jr. Lost his appetite and even his poor little bottom was so skinny it lay in wrinkles. He would try so hard to walk and play like his younger brother but each time he began walking he would become so off balance and his mouth would twist down at one side and he would become very nervous. Then the convulsions would become worse. Sometimes he would have 13 in one day. Often we would rush him to the ER room at our hospital which was about ten miles from where we lived out in the country. He would maybe lay unconscious there fifteen minutes after our arrival and then come to and they would release us to go back home with him. He would be so weak and drenched with sweat. Many times I laid his poor little frail body on our bed and sobbed as I cried out to God to not let him die, thinking maybe he was already dead.

Finally our family doctor diagnosed and prescribed a medication that somewhat controlled the seizures and convulsions so that they were not so severe. Then came the winter months and bouts with pneumonia and summer with the old fashioned measles and very bad case of anemia. This meant a trip to our doctors office each day for a shot for his anemia as we were unable to afford the hospitals fees for admitting him.

After one of these trips I sat on my back porch steps holding Charles Jr. As he lay listless and playing with his golden curly hair. My heart broke all over again as I listened to the conversation between my mother-in-law and my dad. It went “I just wish that girl would realize that the boy is not going to make it.” “I know she just keeps refusing to see the facts for what they are.” “How many doctors have told her that he would not make it and if he does he will not be able to have a normal life.”

The words of one of the doctors echoed in my ears as remembering his hurting cruel words, “Why don’t you quit wasting your money on this child and spend it on the other children. He is not going to make it anyway and if he does…”

My poor husband just worked more hours and we hung on to our faith and hope that someway Jr. Would live and be ok. It was such an endless circle. If he became upset or scared, a nerve injured on his brain caused from a very hard birth at home would cause him to have seizures or convulse so hard. The medication worked to a certain extent but also caused him to be constipated and because of his poor appetite and vomiting that meant enemas and enemas meant him scared and upset and more seizures.

In November after Charles had turned four in October, I was washing my dishes and listening to the radio and heard the announcement of a healing crusade that was coming to our town in January. Tears streamed down my face as I just felt in my heart these words, (not audible) Take Charles Jr. To this crusade and he will be healed. I never had been to church with him or had anyone come and pray for him I had only believed in my heart that God was my only answer to his being ok. I immediately called my mother-in-law, who was of this faith and told her what I had heard and felt. She only said, “Well, don’t get your hopes up to high as a lot of people go to those healing crusades and never get healed.

In January the weather turned cold, and snow was on the ground. As a rule we never took Jr .out unless it was to the doctor or hospital for fear of his taking pneumonia again. On Saturday the next to last day of the crusade my sister-in-law and I bundled up my three babies and took our old car to town and caught a city bus to the auditorium. There we found another evangelist holding the services and was only given a prayer card to fill out and bring to the next days services.

The next day our old car wouldn’t start and we all piled into Charlie’s sisters husbands car (12 of us in all) and went to the crusade. We were some of the very last able to be allowed in the overflowing building. We were in the seventh prayer line about half way and Charlie was standing clear across the large auditoriums floor. I could barely see them from where I stood.

I had filled out the prayer card and placed it on my son’s pram suit. He was very sick and his mouth was drawn like he did when he was about to convulse. I stood waiting and praying as the man of God came to us. He was drenched with sweat. Had taken off his tie and suit jacket and rolled up his shirt sleeves. He simply laid one hand on my head and one on my son’s and looked quickly ay the card said “Oh Lord heal this child” and went on to pray for the next one.

I felt like lightening had struck me or an electric shock. Tears ran down my face and I just knew inside me that Jr. Was healed. Charlie met me and said immediately “He is healed!” We both looked at Jr. And seen that his little mouth looked normal and he was holding his head ok. Charlie told me “When he laid hands on you and Jr. I felt like I was shocked with electricity.” It was a confirmation of the healing through the spirit of God.

When we got home it was almost time for Charlie to leave for work and I got the old bottle of medicine out and shook it and began pouring Jr. A spoonful. Charlie said “What are you doing?” I said, “I am giving Jr. His medicine.” He said, “Don’t you believe he is healed?” I said, “Yes!” Charlie said, “Then don’t give him any more of that stuff.” (Now the medication was not something that was life threatening if I missed a dose or two so I did not give it to him.)

I made an appointment with our family doctor and took Jr. To him in about two weeks. He had had no seizures and no convulsions. His appetite was as good as his brothers and he was playing and walking like nothing had ever been wrong. Every day he was getting stronger and gaining weight. I told my doctor what had happened and he said, “God is good and can do what us doctors are not able to do. Keep your faith and bring him in when it is time for a check-up.”

Charles Jr. Is now a grown man. He is 46 years old. He is the father of four girls. Has worked hard and even helped build a beautiful new home. Has survived through two broken marriages and many heartaches but God has been with him. He has never suffered another seizure or convulsion. He is considered dependable and a responsible person and well known and liked by many.

His hobby is collecting antique cars and he has build large scale model of a semi and trailer with a complete chapel in it. The platform complete with the pulpit and altar. There are wooden pews on each side and with carpeting on the floor and lights and ceiling fans.

The outside of the truck is painted with the rapture on one side and Moses and the crossing of the sea on the other. And Jesus is knocking on the back door. It has cost him hours and hours of detailed labor and over one thousand dollars so far. He does not go to church but I know he believes that God is real and that nothing is impossible with God. .

Leona Wwjdleona@aol.com