Most five-year-old girls are concerned with ponies, princesses, and staying away from the cootie-infested boys in their kindergarten class. They are too young to understand the complexities of the world, but just old enough too know when something is wrong.
When I was five-years-old, I was concerned with cooking dinner for my sisters (which usually consisted of soup or macaroni and cheese), giving them baths, and putting them to bed. You might be thinking, “Where is the mother? Isn’t she supposed to be doing these things?”
My mother was very sick for a long time. She had terrible headaches, dizziness, fatigue, numbness, and the list goes on. It got to the point where she could not stand up without fainting.
I remember the first time I realized something was wrong. I was four- years- old, and I was putting my sisters to bed when I heard a thud downstairs. Then I heard my dad, who just came home from work, crying on the phone for an ambulance. I remember the red and white flashing lights outside my window and the shrieking siren that woke up my sisters. That night was when I first realized my mother was sick.
My mother stayed in the hospital for a long time. The doctors did not know what was wrong, and they threw random diagnoses at us. Nevertheless, my dad still had faith that his bride would make it through.
My dad remained faithful: faithful that the doctors would find the correct diagnosis and faithful that my mom would pull through. His faith strengthened me and kept me going when I was weak.
Then my dad moved us to Baltimore, Maryland, where the infamous John Hopkins Hospital is located. In hopes of helping my mom, my dad had faith that the doctors there would be able to cure her.
The hospital performed numerous tests on my mother. Every night we would visit her and show her we loved her. Through all the failing tests, my dad still had faith. And so did my mom. They truly believed that everything would be fine, if they had faith.
And faithfulness really does lead to miracles. One day, when I was nine, a doctor discovered the answer to my prayers: he found the right diagnosis! However, my mom would have to undergo brain surgery to be healed.
The day of her surgery, I had faith that she was going to be ok. Despite the uncountable wrong solutions to my mother’s eight-year misery, there was something about this solution. My dad was faithful too. He sat in the waiting area with his Bible and cried.
The surgery was a success; my mother was completely healed! No more fainting or dizziness, no more headaches, and no more pain. Faithfulness is what got me through the hard times. Faith is everything. This I believe.
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