A Personal Witness that Miracles really do happen; Thank God!

Growing up as a Catholic, I was already aware that some people were blessed with the gift of healing. When I was about seven years old one of my sisters, who was 22 years older, took us to a chapel miles out of our neighborhood one night to see a priest who I remember miraculously cured my Mum of severe migraine headaches and my small niece of asthma, and they were never bothered with these illnesses again. I was a few years older before I realized that it wasn’t the priest who cured them, it was God, but this knowledge would come to play another significant part in my life later as an adult.

It was when my son Jack was five years old and just started school. He was such a handsome wee boy with blonde curly hair and big blue eyes and blessed with an easy going but caring nature, with an already developed sense of humor. He made us laugh every day. He called us by our first names and didn’t call us Mum and Dad until he was about four years old. His Dad said he took after him, but I said he took after me, and his Gran and Grandad both said the same. We knew we were blessed to have our son and reveled in everything he did. He was the very heart of me and the apple of his Dad's eye, and so when he was diagnosed with Cancer of his leg, we were devastated, to say the least. Our Life had seemed to have gone from normal, happy, taking things for granted type of life, to frightened and insecure about most, if not all things on a daily basis.

I remember when Alan, my husband, came home from the hospital to tell me the news that we had dreaded, that our beautiful wee boy had cancer in his leg. Oh My God, I fell back against the wall as if someone had physically struck a blow to my head, while Alan lay back on the bed crying. That was the defining moment from where our life would NEVER be the same again. Frantically I tried to find some kind of Hope to cling onto. He is a healthy wee boy, has a healthy appetite, loves to play, knows he is loved, on and on the thoughts were piling into my mind as I tried to search for hope, something that, for a while at leas,t would evade me and my life.

Alan got himself up and went to make a cup of tea. Me? I knelt before the picture of the Sacred Heart of Jesus that hung on the wall next to our bed and cried as if my heart was breaking. I Prayed with ALL of my Heart until I eventually shouted at the Lord;
“Why? Why him? Why our wee boy? He is only five years old; he has never done anything wrong. Why would you allow that? I have always loved you, always; have always prayed to you, and tried to keep your commandments, and yet you let this happen to our wee son, it doesn’t make sense and I don’t know why I have ever loved you”

That night we fell asleep exhausted.

With that, I decided that I had fallen out with the Lord, who had been my friend and my strength, but at that moment in time I really was angry at him, angry for not loving me or us back, for not safeguarding us, for letting us down, for putting us through this. He could have made it so different, he has the power but, to my thinking at the time, he didn’t do that.

For the next few weeks we were in turmoil as a family, visiting hospitals, watching every move of our wee boy, frightened to let him do anything and, for me, to even discipline him was too difficult and beyond my ability. I just couldn’t bring myself to do that. I kept thinking, how precious this wee boy is to me and how much I love him.

Eventually, we were spoken to by the Consultant and a treatment plan was made for our wee precious son, Jack, to get well.

That was when I went back into the bedroom and knelt before the Picture of the Sacred Heart of Jesus and cried again, as if my heart would break, only this time to say that I was so grateful that we were getting this chance for our wee boy, because unfortunately some people don’t, and I prayed for them with all my heart; but also that I knew that we couldn’t do this without him; that I wanted and needed his support and presence in my life for this mountain we had to climb and forever.

During this difficult time, I kept praying to St. Martin and St. Anthony, as I had done for many years, but even more so. The feeling grew in me that there must be a person alive these days who God could work through, as he had done with them and many more saints before, and so I set about looking for someone with the gift of healing.

The Doctors were very optimistic, saying that we had discovered this early, but I was looking for a cast iron guarantee, and this could only come from one person. I mentioned this to my Jack's teacher, who a week later wrote to me with details of a Priest, who lived 20 miles from us, who she had been told by a friend of a friend, had the gift of healing. I was overjoyed, but I phoned him and he wanted us to take Jack out to his home.But at that time, as I was suffering terrible panic attacks and agoraphobia, it would be difficult, but I knew I would do it for Jack. We set out in the car a few days later with an appointment to meet Father Michael, and it took us an hour to get there, by which time I had nail marks in my hands from clenching them with stress and panic attacks the whole way there.
It was at this meeting that I would meet the Lord in a whole new way, a way that would change our lives.
There I sat with my son Jack on my knee listening to Father Michael telling us about his life and work in Africa and the many wonders he witnessed while working there. He described events, that I would call miracles, that he had witnessed in response to his prayers on a daily basis.

Children who were crippled had got up and walked for the first time in their lives, others were cured of various different illnesses, others spoke for the first time, and others had their hearing restored. This was almost unbelievable, but I knew that our Lord could do anything, and so when Father Michael anointed us with holy oils and prayed over myself and Jack, he laid his hands on me and I felt the most Beautiful warmth that spread over my head and through my body, coupled with a Peace that I had never felt before or since. For that time, I knew in my heart and soul and very being that my Jack would be cured, that the Holy Spirit was present right then and there. Father Michael explained to us that Jack’s healing would continue to come to him through the doctors and the treatment, and through the prayers of me and Alan, his parents.
Needless to say, we came out of that meeting with a spring in our step and a whole new way of thinking. Although the road was still very difficult at times, we at least had hope. It was a while later when listening to another priest praying the sacred scriptures and he quoted Jesus saying “ I leave you peace, my peace I give you; A Peace the world cannot give” That I could put into words the feelings that I had experienced that day with Father Michael. It was definitely a Peace the world cannot give; it can only come from the Holy Spirit. Since that day we have prayed together every night for Jack and us, and have added our other Children and grandchildren to that list, as we go on.
Jack has gone on to have remedial surgery over many years and eventually decided to have the bottom half of his leg amputated and he wears an artificial limb, he has one for everyday use and one for sport.
He was advised when he was younger that due to his treatment, he might not be able to father children, but he now has a two year old daughter who he calls his miracle child, and she truly is that, just like her father. Praise be to Jesus.