Christmas Miracles (11 page)

“First, they performed a miracle of healing on my legs,” she said. “Then they kept singing louder and louder until I awakened to save my mother and myself from the fire that had begun when Mama had fallen asleep and knocked over the candle. The third miracle was that although Mama's dressing gown and nightdress were burned off her body on her left side and my nightgown was scorched black, neither of us had the slightest burn on our flesh.

“Fourth, and the greatest Christmas miracle of all, I continued walking without assistance. I was a bit unsteady at first, but my parents never had to carry me anywhere again. Within a couple of months, I was once again running and skipping rope with my friends, a happy schoolgirl who would never forget the angels from on high and their beautiful song of healing.

“I know that those same angels have watched over me all of my life,” Bernadette said, concluding her story, “and from time to time, I have been very aware of their presence around me. And, oh, yes, I married when I was twenty-three years old, and I had three wonderful, healthy children, two of which have made me a grandmother four times. My Christmas miracle demolished the doctors' malediction that I would spend my life in a wheelchair.”

W
hen the doctors pronounced their solemn recommendation in March 1993 that Russell Miller should be allowed to die in peace, his family rallied and vowed that he would be up and singing Christmas carols with them in December.

There was no question that the prognosis appeared very disheartening. From the medical perspective, recovery was impossible.

The fifty-three-year-old Miller had entered a coma after an aneurysm burst in his brain, and the specialists at the Colorado hospital held out no hope of his ever regaining consciousness. Although they understood what a difficult family decision they had placed before the Millers, they solemnly offered their best advice that Russell's feeding tube should be unplugged and he be permitted to die peacefully.

Kathy Ebert, Miller's twenty-six-year-old daughter, remembered vividly the shock that their family received that snowy afternoon in early March when their longtime family physician, Dr. Roberts, grimly concurred with the specialists.

“Dad and Doc Roberts had been friends for years,” Kathy said, “and he had tears in his eyes when he said that there was little or no hope that Dad would ever come out of the coma. And if he ever did, Doc told us, he would be on the level of a vegetable—and he would probably never be able to recognize any of us ever again. As much as it gave him sorrow, Doc Roberts suggested that we strongly consider the specialists' advice to allow Dad to pass on.”

At that point, Kathy recalled, her mother, Mau-reen, put her arms around Kathy and her brother, twenty-two-year-old Randy, and with a trembling voice and tears streaming down her cheeks, told them that it had to be a family decision. She alone would not— could not—be the one to pass judgment on whether their father would live or die.

Randy wiped his eyes on a handkerchief and took a deep breath, as if to fix his resolve, before he spoke: “The specialists said there is little or no chance that Dad will ever regain consciousness. Well, if there is even the slightest chance that he can wake up and live, how can we deny him that possibility? Even if it is a million or two million to one, it's still a chance, isn't it?”

Kathy and Maureen became very still, as if mentally pondering the odds. Would it be fair to Dad—or to any of them—if he simply lay there in a coma for months and months before they finally gave in to the specialists' recommendation and allowed him to die?

But Randy wasn't finished with his argument. “We've always been a praying and a Bible-reading family,” he reminded his mother and sister. “We've always put our trust in God. I say we keep on praying until He cures Dad. I say we just keep on focusing on seeing Dad home with us celebrating Christmas! Dad has always loved Christmas so much. With the help of God, let's create a Christmas miracle!”

Kathy nodded her agreement. They made a pact at that very moment to make a prayerful and joyful noise around their father's bed, night and day.

They made a vow to have their father home and singing Christmas carols with them in eight months.

They would practice the faith that had begun with the miraculous birth of the Christ child, and they would never stop believing that they couldn't make another miracle happen.

From that moment on, there was always at least one member of the Miller family beside Russell's hospital bed. Each day, Maureen read the Bible with great feeling, just as if her beloved husband were awake and participating in their daily family devotions.

Randy prayed aloud and placed his hands on his father's head, citing the example of Jesus laying on hands during the course of his healing ministry. A sports enthusiast since his childhood, Randy also assumed the role of a compassionate but persistent coach. He would sit beside his father's bed and repeat words of encouragement over and over, until they became a kind of chant: “Okay, Dad, come on now. I know you can hear me. Come back to us now, Dad. You can do it, Dad.”

Kathy brought her guitar and accompanied herself as she sang all of her father's favorite hymns. As often as possible, she brought her ten-year-old twin daughters to sing along with her in a family trio. When her husband was able to join them, they formed a harmonious quartet that inspired the entire corridor with their joyous gospel songs.

Once a day, all the members of the Miller family— including any friends or relatives who had come to visit—would form a circle around Russell's hospital bed and clasp hands in a silent prayer for healing.

Within about ten days after the Miller family had begun their healing regimen, an amazed nurse witnessed the impossible when Russell opened one eye.

Four weeks later, he opened both eyes, and it was apparent to all those present that he was looking around the hospital room with intelligent curiosity.

The third week in April, just six weeks after an assessment of Russell Miller's burst aneurysm had led experienced medical specialists to declare that he would remain in a coma until death overtook him, he moved most of his fingers and some of his toes.

In mid-June, less than three months after he had lost consciousness, Russell Miller was responding to sounds and recognizing members of his family. He was opening his mouth and attempting to speak to his wife, children, grandchildren, relatives, and friends.

In another month, he was able to go home.

Once he was in his familiar home environment, Russell rapidly continued to improve. In a very short time, he was able to walk and speak normally. He ate meals with the family, watched television, and began to read books, magazines, and newspapers. Soon he was joining in the family's prayers for his health to be completely restored.

By that Christmas, Russell Miller was able to participate fully in his family's celebration of the holiday. His devoted wife, daughter, and son had not accepted the doctors' grim pronouncement that he was doomed to live out his remaining days in a coma. Their unyielding love, their boundless faith, and their constant prayers had petitioned the Creator to grant them a true Christmas miracle.

I
s it possible that a mere Christmas card can engender a miraculous healing?

Dr. Franklin Ruehl, a theoretical physicist who lives in a suburb of Los Angeles, recalled an incident from 1989 involving his mother, which seems to indicate that such a miracle is indeed within the realm of feasibility.

“Mother had long suffered from chronic back pain,” Dr. Ruehl said. “In fact, as long ago as 1953, an orthopedic surgeon had diagnosed her with premature arthritis of the back and predicted that it would continue to progress with an ever-increasing rate with the passage of time. As a consequence, she was always trying new exercises in an effort to combat this problem.”

In early September 1989, Mrs. Florence Ruehl saw a fitness guru on television demonstrate a supposedly ideal stretching exercise for the back. Carefully, she followed along step by step with the instructor's example—but she immediately felt a bolt of pain shoot through her lower back.

“By the time I got home, I found her lying in bed, writhing in excruciating agony,” Dr. Ruehl said. “Analgesics provided some measure of relief, but only temporarily. Because of her distrust of doctors, Mother adamantly refused to see a physician, but as the days dragged on, it was evident that she had more than a transient problem. Sitting upright was especially painful, so she would end up eating her meals standing at the kitchen counter.”

Dr. Ruehl said that he finally got his mother to agree to visit a female chiropractor, but the erstwhile healer spent most of the time espousing the doctrine of the natural health movement, giving Florence Ruehl only a brief session of ultrasound therapy, which proved completely ineffective.

In mid-November, she relented and allowed her son to take her to a traditional medical center where, after a battery of tests, an attending physician informed them that Mrs. Ruehl hadn't fractured any vertebrae or torn any ligaments, as they had feared, but had simply pulled some muscles. The doctor went on to express surprise at how she had virtually no signs of arthritis for a woman of her age. He prescribed a two-week regimen of the powerful drug prednisone.

“It worked wonders,” Dr. Ruehl recalled. “Mother got back on her feet and immediately spent as much time as possible Christmas shopping, fearing the beneficial response to the drug would wear off. It did. And the doctor refused to renew the prescription, stating his case that the potent medication could have devastating side effects if taken over a prolonged period of time. Mother once again found herself back in bed and unable to sit up as the month of December rolled around.”

Dr. Ruehl began his Christmas shopping, hunting for gifts and cards. While he purchased several items and was able to accumulate a beautiful array of cards featuring cats for his mother, an ailurophile of the first order, he continued to search for an ideal card that would somehow properly address the miserable experience she was enduring with her back problem. He had canvassed all the stores in several malls but found only the standard kind of Christmas greetings.

“Then, on Christmas Eve, I happened to chance upon a small out-of-the-way card shop,” he said. “I read one verse after another, finding them all bearing the traditional blissful greetings.

“Just as I was about to leave, I spotted a large, beautiful card, obscured by frolicking Santas. Reading it, I knew instantly that it was the card for which I had been searching—the very card meant specially for my stricken mother. It was as though Fate had guided me to that very shop and that very card.”

When he returned home, his mother apologized for not having had a chance to get any cards for him. Dr. Ruehl then invited her to take half of the cards that he had purchased.

“I spread them out, facedown, and told her to pick cards at random that she could then give to me,” he said. “Of course, I withheld that special card.”

On Christmas morning, Mrs. Ruehl came out to the living room, determined to at least sit up to read her cards and to open her gifts. When she began to read the special card that her son had found for her, they both cried.

“The card had obviously been penned by someone who appreciated that not everyone at Yuletide is happy, that serious problems may be plaguing some people in this season of joy,” Dr. Ruehl said.

“The verse in that precious card that began ‘With all my love, Mother,' stated that although it was Christmas when everyone else may be feeling happy, it can be very difficult to smile and pretend things are all right when they really haven't been. And while there may have been times when she wondered how she could carry on, the verse proclaimed that if anyone could do it, she could—because she had always had an inner strength that would never allow her to give up. Because of her determination, she was a very special woman who was very easy to love and she was wished a Merry Christmas so filled with love that she would never feel alone.”