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BRODY: I witnessed a miracle, and it changed my perspective

Many of us are reluctant to share our miracles, but I have come to the conclusion that if we don’t speak of them, we diminish the possibility of miracles.

I believe we need to live in such a way that we expect a miracle.

Long ago, I was a front-row witness to a miracle that touched my soul like no other.

Gene and I, along with literally thousands of others, had been praying for exactly that — a miracle. When we stood in that hospital room and tried to internalize the truth in the doctor’s word, I was rendered speechless.

Let me go back to the beginning.

Judy Hayes and her husband, Walter, are two of our most beloved friends.

Judy had battled cancer for nine years, having the first mastectomy nine years ago and the second one four years ago.

Cancer was never far from her mind or the minds of all who loved her.

After almost a month of not feeling well and running a low-grade fever, she went for blood work, which flagged that some thing was wrong, and because of her history, an ultrasound was done.

Horrified, we learned a solid mass was on her liver, and a needle biopsy was necessary.

The days between that pronouncement and the actual biopsy were among the longest you can imagine.

Gene and I, pored over medical books, and the more we read, the more scared and sad we became.

The truth was, with her symptoms and her history, it was almost sure to be more cancer, and she would not be with us by Christmas, just a few months away.

My first prayers were for courage, then for guidance in supporting Judy and Walter and for the grace of acceptance.

About half way through that week, while on my knees, my prayer changed. I prayed for a miracle.

I wanted that tumor gone.

From that moment on, we prayed for God to touch and heal her body, and later, I found many others had also changed, and were praying for a miracle.

The day finally came for the biopsy.

We went in the dawn of a misty day to St. Joseph Hospital East to be with them.

The most serene person there was Judy as she assured us that, “No matter what happens to me, I’ll be fine. I am in a win-win position.”

She seemed sad but not scared, which is more than I can say for the rest of us.

Armed with the pictures from the week before clearly showing the mass on the liver, the doctor explained he wanted to do another ultrasound to be exact in placing the large needle for the biopsy.

It seemed logical, but after some 20 minutes, a nurse told us in the waiting room that we could go to see her.

Puzzled, one by one we went to Judy’s bed. She was smiling beautifully, as she said quietly, “It’s gone.”

Side by side hung the two sets of pictures. One showing the large growth, and the other without it. The doctors and nurses were just sort of standing there quietly.

A nurse said no biopsy could have been attempted since there was no growth to test.

The doctor decided to do yet another ultrasound from a different perspective.

Judy went back to radiology, leaving us stunned.

The doctor told us the tumor still was nowhere, so she could dress and go home, which she did joyfully and humbly.

That moment is emblazoned in my heart forever.

I am ashamed that, even for a split second after hearing the words, “It’s gone,” I stood in silence.

I prayed for a healing miracle, and I received it.

So why could I not simply praise God? Disbelief?

Forgive me, Lord, but that thought only sped through my brain like a hard rain before the rainbow appeared clear, perfect, beautiful beyond any words, and there was God saying to me, “You prayed for the miracle. Here is your miracle.”

Prayer works, and indeed, God, if there was a spark of unbelief in me, it is forever gone. For it’s a God thing.

The view from the mountain is wondrous.

Jean Brody is a passionate animal lover and mother. She previously lived in Winchester, but now resides in Littleton, Colorado. Her column has appeared in The Sun for more than 25 years.