Due to complications of a connective tissue disease, without warning I’d been
> struck blind. Each time the doctor held his hand in front of my face and
> asked how many fingers I saw, hope dwindled, as I replied, “none.”
> I felt alone, frustrated, sad, and afraid. The searing pain stabbed at my
> eyes, as if fire were consuming them. But worse than the excruciating
> physical torment was the terrifying darkness and agonizing over the “what
> What if doctors couldn’t save my sight? What if I couldn’t take care of
> myself? What if I couldn’t drive my car and be independent anymore? What if
> I would never enjoy reading a book, watching a sunset, or gazing into the eyes
> of my grandbaby?
> In despair, I cried to God. “Why is this happening? I CAN’T be permanently
> I’d become very skittish about anything coming near my eyes. I soaked the
> examining chair with perspiration during each doctor visit, so you can
> understand my reaction when the surgeon announced he would cut my cornea, lift
> it, and clean under it. I told him, “I’d rather have my legs amputated!”
> I’d heard courage is fear that’s said its prayers. I knew many people
> praying for me. I too begged God, not only for healing, but for strength to
> endure whatever happened.
> While lying awake one night, I listened to an all-night TV station playing
> gentle music as a man read Bible passages. Like a fountain of fresh water,
> God’s Word, combined with the soothing music, rinsed away my anxiety replacing
> it with peace. I was reminded of the words of Jesus: “Do not let your hearts
> be troubled and do not be afraid.”
> I gave my fears to God and determined to believe in His love for me. If He
> chose to heal me, I would be grateful. If He chose not to, He had a reason
> for that, too.
> The surgery went well and my world grew brighter. It was a long recovery, but
> I defied all odds.
> Afterwards, my doctor said he’d never believed I would see again. Now we both
> believe in prayer and miracles.
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