A Walking Miracle

You never expect the dreaded phone call that brings earth-shattering news. But your life can change in a moment.

I was cleaning up my kitchen this past August when my friend Becky called. "Come right away to the field. Curt's been hit in the head with a softball and may need medical attention."

My mind raced as I headed across town to the field where the church league was playing. I began to pray a desperate, nonsensical plea for God's mercy on my husband that became a near-constant prayer for days.

When he was sixteen, Curt suffered a severe closedhead injury playing indoor soccer. Doctors deemed his situation hopeless and his father had started shopping for a nursing home. God had a different plan. In time, Curt was able to re-learn everything, from walking and talking to reading, writing, and feeding himself. He returned to finish high school, attend college, and marry me. I always thought of him as a walking miracle. Then, two summers ago, he had another freak knock on the head, involving a shoe that came flying off a roller coaster, of all things! That resulted in a slightly scary post-traumatic concussion requiring plenty of rest over a few weeks. Head injuries are accumulative. Curt's been told by doctors that he must avoid getting hit on the head again. On this life-changing summer day, the other team threw the ball to get him out. They got him—right in the back of the head! Curt made it to the base, then fell to his knees and crashed forward, hitting his head again. After about thirty seconds, he came to and seemed completely lucid. "Let's get back to the game. I'm fine!" Soon his team insisted he sit on the bench and ice his head. After about fifteen minutes, he seemed disconnected with his surroundings.

In the ER, the initial CT scan showed no bleeding or extreme swelling of the brain, but Curt was already in rapid decline. He was experiencing severe vision loss, his ears were ringing wildly, and he was completely mixed up. His long-term memory was locked up. He knew me as his wife; however, he had no memory of our daughter. His short-term memory was no better. Every ten seconds or so he'd ask, "What's going on? What are we doing here?" He was upset and suspicious, his insistent questioning going on and on. His agitated condition remained unchanged for 77 hours. Tuesday night, unbeknownst to me, our church held a prayer vigil. A strong sense of God's peace settled over Curt's hospital room. He calmed down immensely thereafter. Yet, the next few days only brought baby steps of progress. Confusion prevailed. Test upon inconclusive test was done. To make things worse, Curt developed blood clots in his lungs.Key medical professionals met with me explaining their concerns over Curt's lack of progress. A doctor even used the dreaded "D" word: disability. I couldn't stomach the taste of that word on my lips. Disabled? My thirty-five-year-old husband? I wanted them to be as invested in his recovery as I was. Forgive my lack of objectivity, but my husband is an exceptional person! He is a caring, godly man of integrity. God has given Curt an amazing ability to teach and preach Biblical truth in a clear, compelling manner.

"How could this happen to this man?" I was incredulous. "God, he is YOUR man. You called him here and our work has barely begun. How could this be Your plan?" We had moved to the Twin Ports area of northern Wisconsin the previous February from southeastern Wisconsin, where Curt had been a youth pastor. Now he was the pastor of North Bay Community Church in Superior. Recent months had been spent getting acclimated and established, weaving our hearts and lives into the fabric of our church families and the community, and setting ministry goals. Curt and I were currently caught up in the momentum of fall planning, ready to burst with enthusiasm about God's work. How could North Bay's long-sought pastor be taken out of the game at this crucial point? How could all this be in vain? My stubborn mind couldn't accept such a dire possibility. Yet, all I had to fall back on was God's grace and peace. "My ways are higher than your ways," the Spirit reminded my anxious heart. When we are in the lowest chasms of tragedy, I believe God works through Scripture to minister to our broken, petrified souls. He brought to my mind 2 Cor. 12:9, "My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness." He surrounded me with the outstanding support of our precious, prayerful church family. People around the globe were praying constantly for Curt.

Doctors told me to prepare for a long road ahead. Though they were baffled over the severity of Curt's condition, they saw no reason Curt shouldn't recover over time. His vision and hearing were improved. But this unexplained fainting, excruciating headache, and relentless confusion persisted. The doctors made one thing clear: this rehab would be a marathon, not a sprint. On day six, Curt was ready to move to a rehab hospital. There, the intake staff established their goal: helping Curt to function well enough to live at home again. I was appalled. My goal was complete restoration to his ministry and life as we knew it! They let me know that I needed to adjust my expectations. Later this same day Curt revealed, somewhat conspiratorially, that he figured out that when people were praying for him, he should close his eyes and be quiet. What a devastating revelation! Curt was experiencing a total disconnect from spiritual concepts. He asked me what God was, wanting an explanation. My words didn't seem to sink in at all. As his supper arrived, I left him and headed home to sleep in my own bed again. That night was one of my lowest points ever.

The next day marked one week after the softball hit. My sister, Kristi, and her mother-in-law, Cheri, accompanied me to see Curt. He did not recognize them. I felt an urging that Curt should hear Scripture and asked Cheri to read. We chose 1 Peter, since Curt had been studying that book most recently. As Cheri read, Curt's countenance and demeanor changed before our eyes. Suddenly, his expression looked "alive." I could tell he wanted to say something. "By His wounds we are healed. By His wounds we are healed." Curt continued to repeat this passage. I was filled with astonishment at Curt's attentiveness. I asked him what he knew about God. Curt replied that God was "the Creator and Sustainer of Life, the First Person of the Trinity." These theological words were astounding, coming from a man who didn't know what a shower was the day before!

"What about Jesus?" I quizzed him.

"He is the Second Person of the Trinity, the propitiation for our sins." Curt went on to perfectly quote John 1:1-4.

Cheri told Curt she had been praying that the Holy Spirit would bring back to his remembrance all that he had been taught. "The Comforter," Curt said, matter-of-factly.

We women sat wiping away tears, while Curt couldn't understand what the fuss was all about. He tells people now, "I have no memory of that week at the hospital. It's as if I was taking a long nap and just woke up." Yet, we had just witnessed the powerful living Word of God work in my husband's brain, restoring his awareness and memory. We felt like we were in a sacred place.

Curt went on to relay other facts that had previously been missing from his memory. The warmth and brightness of his personality was intact, along with his celebrated sense of humor.

After more weekend rest, Curt returned home on Monday, August 20. It was obvious to the therapists, doctors, and nurses that his recovery was abrupt and remarkable. We freely shared with them the story of reading the Bible to Curt. They listened, but seemed hesitant to own the possibility of a true miracle. They said things like, "This kind of recovery is highly unusual," and "Congratulations, we never see this!" Be assured, I lived every uncertain moment of that frightening week, and I know that Curt was touched distinctively by God's power. May God be praised for the wonders He has performed!

Each day since, we have a fresh appreciation for the blessing of being healthy and home together as a family. Through all of this, our church family has developed a strong reliance on the power of God through prayer. "That head injury was the best sermon I could have ever preached about prayer," Curt often says, laughingly. When he returned to the pulpit a couple of weeks after the hospitalization, he challenged our congregation to shift all of their focused prayer for his recovery to intense prayer for their unsaved friends, neighbors, and co-workers. Since that time, our small, struggling church has tripled in size and has experienced a great rekindling of faith.

We all go through times of trials. The miracle my family experienced was a true, clear blessing from the hand of God. However, most of the time there is no miraculous ending to life's tough stories. The important part of a trial isn't the ending itself, but the way we conduct ourselves through those painful, uncertain times. If we marinate our hearts in God's Word during normal seasons, then the Holy Spirit will bring those words of comfort to our recollection when the storm hits. In our dark, human sufferings, we experience God's strength by inviting Him to carry us and lead us. That's when faith shines!

Bottom line: God's grace is sufficient for us in every situation, no matter the duration or the conclusion.

~ By Kelly Jo Vanderstelt

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