Carolyn's Story

Carolyn's Story

The Master, Jesus, once said that we should boast not ourselves of tomorrow for we do not know what a day may bring forth. Oh, how well I've learned the truth of that statement!

My "Day of Destiny" began, admittedly, in a somewhat different way than usual - but there were no clues as to just how different it was going to be. It was 6:00 AM on December 31, 2000.. The Church where I minister participates every New year's Eve in an early morning service to embrace the idea of Peace, Oneness and World Healing. Afterwards, we come together to enjoy a light breakfast. This year was no different from any other, except that it was also a Sunday morning...following a rather exhaustive holiday season...and I was the "Chief Cook and Bottle Washer" that morning. Suffice it to say that I was feeling rather tired and stressed.

At 11:00 AM I was ready to conduct the regular Sunday service. I gave a normal Sunday lesson, walked off the platform, greeted people at the door as they were leaving, walked a few feet into the office area, and discovered when I tried to speak to my secretary that I was unable to do so. I had suffered a stroke - a hemorrhage in the left side of my brain.

I managed to walk home, which was only a short distance from the church, and crawl into bed. That is the last thing I remembered for several days. I do have a few hazy recollections of being in a hospital and thinking once that I surely must be dying; no one could feel that sick and stay alive.

I remember talking to some "beings" about what would happen when I "crossed over". I also remember being both sad about leaving my children and excited that at last I would see the "other side". I was told that I would go into a deep sleep, and when I awakened it would all be over; that my body would be placed in a yellow plastic bag and zipped up, and I wasn't to let that upset me when it happened. So, I trustingly let go to sink deeper into unconsciousness, never doubting that was exactly what would happen.

Some days later I opened my eyes, realized I was in a darkened room with tubes protruding from my arms, and thought, "this Isn't the other side. I'm still in the earth realm. In a body. A very sick body." "My God, they rejected me!"

It is interesting that at some level of consciousness, parts of our brain can still function while others do not. I was thinking, but was not able to formulate words. For three days I was unable to speak, nor could I understand most of what others said.

As I later learned, I wasn't expected to live. Only 20% of people survive a cerebral hemorrhage, and of that percentage most have lasting physical impairment. My sister had left this earth two years previously, paralyzed, and with the same condition.

My oldest daughter, Christy Hancock, kept assuring me that I would be all right; that I would be able to speak again. (Can you imagine - a minister who can't talk? Now that is a real definition of "Hell") Christy is also an ordained Unity minister and knows the power of belief; that it would be essential for me to "believe it in order to see it". She told me my brain was still swollen, but when the swelling went down, everything would be fine. That was not the prognosis, but I didn't know it. I just accepted it as being true because I assumed my two sweet daughters thought it to be.

How blessed I was to have such positive energy around me. Between Christy, and my youngest daughter, Melissa, I was greatly encouraged to "get well". I didn't know that medically it wasn't supposed to happen. (At least not very quickly, if at all)

I had been given a slate and pencil to play with, but was unable to direct my hand to do anything. A speech therapist had also been to see me and determined that the only sounds I could make were somewhat like a weird "oh". Yet something inside of me said, "Let's get started. You know how to do this. You know your alphabet and how it sounds. If it takes practice - then let's practice."

What a surprise to discover that I didn't know anything! I couldn't read - I couldn't write - I couldn't even draw a flower or a stick person. Neither could I remember what I struggled to accomplish for more than a minute or two.

I was in a Catholic hospital, so each morning on the breakfast tray was a little poem or inspirational saying. That particular morning was no different, and I had kept the poem with me. I didn't know what it said; only that it had words and I was determined to remember what the letters were and what they meant. So I began. I took the pencil and slate, discerned the letter "A", and worked at trying to reproduce and prononunce it. Finally it sounded more as it should, so I went to another letter in the poem. After an hour or so, I started to sound out words. They were simple ones at first, such as "to", "so", and "is". Suddenly things began to fall into place. I recognized written words and began to be able to understand them.. I don't know how; it was almost as if someone was teaching me. It happened so fast that soon I could decipher several words in each sentence. Imagine my joy when I could read one whole sentence....one I'll never forget: "Yes, God is ever with you." And that is so true.

My daughters were amazed when they came to see me later that day and I spoke to them. The neurosurgeon and the speech therapist both came in together and questioned me extensively. They determined that I did not need them anymore,and turned me over to the care of my regular physician and a neurologist. Several people came by to see for themselves. My daughter, Melissa, works at that hospital and heard what people were saying for weeks to come.

Later, my personal physcian told me, "you make me smile inside", and that I was "doing remarkably well". The sweet neurosurgeon came by the day I left the hospital and told me that in all his years of practicing medicine, I was the greatest miracle he had ever seen!

It was a dramatic healing. I still sometimes have a little trouble with brain and mouth coordination, but very seldom now. Also, my memory seems to sometimes be very selective, but both these things get better everyday. (Small price to pay for such a sweet and generous gift from a good and loving God).

It's been six years since my "wake-up call". Life's lessons didn't end with the stroke and the healing. My husband, who the year before had lost most of a lung to cancer, found that the malignancy had returned. He spent nine months in great pain, undergoing such things as chemotherapy and radiation. Eventually his soul took it's final flight "home" on Christmas Day 2001. This past few years have been full of adjustment and sadness - and finding joy again in the process of living. Every day I thank God for restoring my ability to speak and function as I continue to do lessons each Sunday, classes during the week, an email lesson, an on-line newsletter, plus extensive counseling and other miscellaneous ministerial activities.

I guess God wasn't finished with me yet!

As the poet said:

Sweet are the uses of adversity;

Which, ugly and venomous like the toad,

Yet wears a jewel in it's crown.

And this our lives exempt from public haunt,

Finds tongues in trees,

Books in the running Brooks,

Sermons in Stones - and good in everything!