A Treasury of Miracles for Women (12 page)
Finally, six hours after she was born, Anne gazed once more into her father's eyes and drew her last breath. Shortly afterward, Kendra's medication wore off and she awoke. Only then did she get to hold Anne.
“Watch over us from heaven, little one,” Kendra cried softly. “We will never forget you.”
Tw o days later, Kendra and Peter were notified by the organ bank that Anne's heart valves had been used to save the lives of two critically ill children in Chicago. The next day family members held a memorial for Anne Marie, a service that Kendra was unable to attend because of her grief.
Weeks passed before Kendra could talk about Anne with anyone. Only then, after hours of prayer for peace and acceptance, did she reach several conclusions about Anne's short life.
“Children aren't supposed to die,” she said later. “When a child dies, it causes everyone to change their per spective and appreciate each tiny moment of life. It resets our priorities and forces us to cash in on the insurance pol icy of having faith in God.”
Today Kendra and Peter feel certain that Anne's short life is the reason they so deeply appreciate each day with their son. Kendra also devotes some of her time to helping other parents find peace in the tragedy of losing a child.
“The best we can hope for with any of our children is not the kind of career they choose or where they will live or how much money they will make,” Kendra tells people when she talks about Anne. “The best we can hope for with our children is that they make it to heaven and touch the lives of others along the way. As for us, one of our chil dren is already safely home. Not only that, but in passing through this world she gave life to two terminally ill chil dren.
“How many of us can say that, even after living a hun dred years?”
T
hough there were decades when their relationship was marked by strain and tension, when Molly Benson turned fifty her greatest gift was this: she and her daughter, Peg, had finally become close.
For the next ten years they shared the type of relation ship Molly had always hoped to have. There were after noon walks and long conversations where they bared their hearts and dreams and basked in the closeness they shared.
But when Molly entered her early sixties, she began suffering from a myriad of symptoms and within a year she was diagnosed with degenerative muscle and connective tissue disorders that cause a gradual wasting of the body and eventually result in death.
When Molly learned of the diagnosis, she shared the news with her three grown children immediately, asking them to pray for her.
“None of us really knows how long we've got,” she told them. “But please pray for me all the same. Pray that I don't leave any of you until God himself is ready to take me.”
As the year passed, Molly's condition worsened. She lost use of her arms and legs, and was eventually confined to a wheelchair. During that time, Peg's brother and sister moved away from Bethesda, Maryland, to start their own families. Peg and her husband, Rick, stayed behind to care for Molly.
“I don't know what I'd do without you, Peg,” her mother told her on several occasions. “You are more than I ever could have hoped for in a daughter.”
Molly spent much of her time with Peg and Rick. Every day was filled with joy, not just because of her close relationship with Peg, but also with Peg's children. Molly's precious grandchildren.
Although she couldn't do the more physical things she'd hoped to do as a grandmother, she could tell them stories and listen to them when they played make-believe. The relationship between Molly and Peg's family grew, and Peg could sense that her children had a special under standing of their grandmother's poor health.
When Molly hit her sixty-second birthday, she was completely crippled by her diseases. Those were heart breaking times when Molly would spend an afternoon with Peg and the children, only to grow weary and be forced to take a nap.
During those days, Peg would watch her mother sleeping and wonder how she was going to deal with the woman's inevitable death. Molly's muscles and connective tissues were almost completely destroyed and now the crip pling disease had settled in her lungs, making it hard for her to breathe. The doctors had warned that she might not live through the year.
Summer came, and Molly struggled. She was barely surviving by autumn. Then, almost overnight, her condition worsened dramatically and she had to be hospitalized for lung congestion. Peg kept a vigil at her mother's bed side, praying for her and singing familiar, comforting songs.
Although Molly's entire body was affected by her dis eases, her mind was perfectly intact. She thought back to the days when she had tried for years to tenderly reach Peg. But now, when the days that remained were so few, Peg was tenderly reaching out to her.
“Thank you, Peg,” Molly said one morning, wrestling with each word. “It means so much that you are here.”
Each day Molly's health deteriorated more. Soon she could barely talk, but many times she would look at Peg in such a way that Peg was sure her mother was listening to her, thankful for her daughter's prayers and songs. The days passed, and Peg remained determined to stay by her mother's side until the end.
On the day before Thanksgiving, her mother seemed worse than at any time before. Peg sat beside her, tears streaming down her face as she held her mother's hand tightly in her own.
“I love you, Mom,” she said, bending over and looking into her mother's eyes. Molly blinked, her crippled body motionless, her breathing labored.
“Mom,” Peg continued, “I know you can hear me, so listen to what I have to say. You've been such a wonderful mother, so good with my children. I'm sorry about the years we lost, the years when I went my own way. But I want you to know how much we all love you, Mom. And I want you to know that we'll all be together again some day. I promise.”
Her mother remained still, but her eyes filled with tears.
Looking up toward heaven, Peg began to pray. “Dear God our father, please be kind with my mother. Please help her reach your light and give her peace as she goes. Thank you for her love, Lord. Help us find a way to survive with out her.”
Once more Peg's eyes searched those of her mother's, and this time Peg felt as if her mother was trying to smile. Then, very peacefully, her mother slipped into a coma.
For the next few hours, although she was unconscious, her mother's mouth made subtle movements as if she was talking to someone. Peg continued holding her hand, singing and praying for her.
“It's all right, Mom,” Peg said quietly, her voice calm despite the tears that still trickled down her cheeks. “The Lord is ready for you now.”
Peg also mentioned the names of her mother's parents and of her own son, who had died when he was just two.
“They're waiting for you, Mom,” Peg continued. “They're all waiting. It's all right. Just let go.”
Finally, at 12:15 A.M. on Thanksgiving Day, her mother died.
At the exact moment, Peg sat up straighter in her chair, certain that the body before her no longer housed her mother's spirit. A tremendous peace, like something she'd never known before, came over her and she smiled through her tears.
“You're there, aren't you, Mom?” she asked. “You're home.” Then she smiled. Life would be hard without her mother, but the indescribable peace that filled Peg's heart was like an assurance that things had worked out for the best. Everything was going to be okay.
That week was hectic as Peg's brother and sister arrived from different parts of the country to aid in planning their mother's funeral. Together they went through their mother's small house and made decisions about her be longings.
The whirlwind of activity quieted down almost imme diately after the funeral, when the rest of the family was forced to return to their homes to get back to work. Since Peg lived so close to her mother's house, she had agreed to take care of all the remaining business involving their mother's death. Meanwhile she continued to work as a de signer at a local florist shop while also caring for her chil dren.
Before long, the peace that had helped her through the initial days after her mother's death had all but disappeared. Instead, Peg felt desperately lonely and over whelmed with the idea of selling her mother's house and with the amount of work left to do.
One night after Rick was asleep, she buried her head in her pillow and sobbed. Silently, drowning in the pain of losing her mother, she began to pray.
“Sweet Lord, please help me to feel that peace that I felt at first. I believe Mom is with you now, but help me to really know it in my heart. Help me feel your peace once again. And let me know everything's going to be okay.”
The next day Peg was up early as usual, preparing the children's lunches, when the phone rang. Rick had already been gone more than an hour, and she wondered if he might be calling. Just before she picked up the cordless phone, she realized that the other phone in the next room was not ringing. The sound came only from the cordless phone in the kitchen.
“Hello?” Her voice sounded tired, and despair from the night before still hung over her like a cloud.
When no one responded, Peg tried again. “Hello? Is anyone there?”
Still there was only silence. Peg shrugged and hung up the phone.
An hour later, when the children were off to school, the phone rang again. As before, only the cordless phone was ringing. Peg set down the storybook and walked into the kitchen for the phone.
“Hello?” she said.
Silence.
“Is there someone there?” Peg asked. “Say something if you're there.”
But there was no sound at all. Shrugging once more, Peg hung up the phone and returned to the sofa where Haley was waiting for her.
Nearly two hours later Peg was making lunch for Haley when once again only the cordless phone rang. This time Peg sighed loudly in frustration as she reached for the re ceiver.
“Hello?” Her tone had grown aggravated; she had nearly run out of patience. She had much to get done that day and didn't have time for prank callers.
When no one responded, Peg wasted no time. She pushed the disconnect button, waited for a dial tone, and immediately dialed the number of her friend Joe.
“Joe will know what to do about this,” she muttered.
When he answered, she told him what had happened. “The strange thing is it's only ringing on my cordless phone,” she told him. “The other phone isn't making any noise at all.”
Joe suggested she unplug the phone from the electrical outlet.
“Might be a malfunction. But it can't ring if it isn't get ting any electricity,” Joe said. “That should solve the prob lem for now, but you might want to have that phone looked at when you get a chance.”
Peg thanked him for his suggestion, and immediately unplugged the cordless phone.
“That solves that problem,” she said out loud.
Thirty minutes later, the phone rang again and Peg wrinkled her brow curiously. Once again, only the cordless phone was ringing, but it seemed impossible since there was no electricity feeding the phone's base unit.
“Hello?” she said. “Is anyone there?”
When no one answered, Peg hung up and phoned Joe once more.
“Unplug it from the phone jack,” Joe advised. “That way it won't be hooked up to anything at all. No way for it to ring after that.”
Peg hung up and followed Joe's instructions. She even pulled the phone away from the wall and bundled up the detached cording. Mentally she made a note to take the unit in for repair.
Another hour passed as Peg sifted through paperwork regarding her mother's death.
“This is hard, Lord,” she sighed, feeling tears once again gathering in her eyes. “I miss her so badly.”
Suddenly the early afternoon silence was broken by the ringing of the telephone. Peg walked into the bedroom and saw that the wall phone was not ringing. She followed the sound and felt a chill run through her body.
The cordless phone—no longer attached to either the electrical outlet or the phone jack—was ringing. Over come by a combination of fear and curiosity, Peg moved slowly toward the phone and gingerly picked up the re ceiver.
“Hello?” Peg's voice was soft, uncertain. Once again there was only silence at the other end.
Suddenly Peg remembered the date. It was December 11, her mother's birthday. In the sea of responsibilities and duties she had forgotten what day it was.
Instantly she was flooded by the same feeling of peace that had washed over her the moment her mother had died. She thought about the prayer she had said the night before and knew in that moment that God had answered her.
First by allowing her to restore her relationship with her mother. And now by letting Peg know she was loved and that even with her mother gone, everything really was going to be okay.
J
ackie Connover had driven the road a hundred times. She and her husband had spent the past seven years as full-time counselors for Mountaintop Christian Camp, a retreatlike cluster of cabins nestled 7,300 feet above sea level, in the mountains above Colorado Springs. Windy, dangerous road was part of the life she and her family had chosen.
Since taking the job and moving to their mountaintop home, Jackie, twenty-eight, and her husband, Michael, had prayed for children. But so far they had been blessed with just one: a charming, brown-haired, rough-and-tumble boy named Cody.
On the warm summer afternoon of August 10, Jackie finished organizing the details for the next group of campers and walked through tall pine trees to their cabin,adjacent to the main hall. Her face lit up as she opened the door and entered the room. Michael and Cody were cud dled on the couch inside, reading a book.
“Hey,” she announced. “Wanna come with Mommy down the mountain?”
It was a planned trip for supplies, and regardless of whether Jackie or Michael made the trek, Cody always came along. It was a special time for him and gave each of them one-on-one time with their precious son.
Michael leveled his gaze at Cody and kissed the child on the nose. “You be good for Mommy, hear?” The child nodded and Michael stood to kiss Jackie. “And you be care ful, okay?”
