Testimony by Ashley Brubaker
Pennsylvania, USA
Posted 6/ 27 /05
Please note: This was originally written for one of my school assignments, but I thought it would be a blessing if I shared it with you as a testimony of God’s greatness in our lives, in the Autumn of 2004. God’s grace and mercy sustained us through this trial. May it please the Lord to use this for His glory and the blessing of His dear saints. Amen!
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“Ashley!” Mom said, breaking the stillness of the night as she walked into my room.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, startled.
“Dad’s having trouble breathing. We’re going to take him to the emergency room right now!”
Alarmed, I clambered out of my bed. Oh, my, it must be serious, I thought, or else Dad would never have agreed to go! “I’m coming, too!” I said.
Downstairs, we scrambled to get ready. Dad was sitting in the kitchen with his eyes closed and perspiration running down his pale face. “Can I get you anything?” I asked. He just shook his head.
With a prayer in my heart, I rushed to get the van out of the garage. My hands were shaking at the wheel. I tried to push my fears aside. Ten minutes later, we were at the hospital. Dad was ushered into an empty room, while Mom explained the symptoms he was experiencing.
Nurses rushed around Dad and the doctor looked worried. It seemed like an apparent heart attack. When the tests came back, the doctor came in with the report. “Well, amazingly, the blood tests are normal. The vital signs are back where they should be and there appears to have been no heart damage. You certainly are a lucky man, Gene Brubaker!”
“No.” Mom smiled and said with full assurance, “We were praying. It was a miracle!” A smile traced my lips and thankfulness overflowed my heart in a silent prayer.
The doctor went on to say, however, that Dad might have some clogged arteries and would need to be transferred to another hospital, about fifteen miles away, to have a heart cauterization.
The next afternoon, we arrived at the other hospital. My sister, Michelle, popped in and waited with us until after Dad’s procedure. A caseworker informed us that Dad had three blocked arteries and would need open-heart surgery.
I tried to hide my shock but fear swept over me at the thought of such a dangerous surgery. I just couldn’t believe this could happen to my dad! I had to get out of the room. I excused myself and headed to the bathroom. Tears were running down my face and there was a prayer in my heart that could not even be uttered. “Lord, please help us,” I whispered, before I went back into the room. I hoped Dad wouldn’t see my tears.
The surgeon had considered performing surgery the next day, but then decided they wanted to do some more tests and let the blood thinner get out of his system.
Four days later, the day before his surgery, a caseworker came to talk with us. She was not subtle about the surgery, or his “drop dead” condition, as she called it. She could have really scared a person had they not had the Lord there beside them, comforting them, as we did. We told her how the Lord has his protective hand upon Dad—and if it weren’t for Him—Dad wouldn’t be here! She appeared to be quite uncomfortable with that idea. Dad was even suppose to have gone canoeing in the backwoods of Canada that same week but his friend decided to go alone, and so, we discovered another miracle as God interceded on our behalf.
Many prayers went heavenward as that coming day approached. We prayed for the Lord’s will to be done, whether through a miracle or surgery, that He would also strengthen us and surround us with His comfort, that we could be a witness to those around us, and that through it all, Jesus’ mighty Name would be glorified through this fiery trial.
Surgery started the next morning at 8:00. We stayed in the waiting room with my sister, Michelle, until the surgeon came out at 12:30 to give us an update. “The operation went very well,” he said. “I’m very pleased with how things turned out. Now…when you go back to see him in a couple of hours, you’re not going to be very pleased with how he looks, but we are.”
My family and I hugged each other and smiled through tears of joy as we thanked our Heavenly Father for this blessing of mercy. God is so good!
Later that afternoon, we went to see Dad. The nurse allowed us to visit for about five minutes. Dad was still asleep from the anesthesia. Every tube, wire and bandage imaginable was hooked up to him. The nurse explained the purpose for each one and said, “The next thing we have to check is to see if enough oxygen went to his brain during surgery and that it didn’t cause a stroke. We’ll know once he wakes up.” I shuddered at the thought.
We went back to the waiting room and I prayed and prayed that Dad would be okay. About an hour later, we went in again. I held my breath. Dad was awake this time and when the nurse saw us, she asked him if he knew who we were. He nodded his head.
Dad’s okay! He didn’t have a stroke! Oh, thank you, Jesus! I said silently. We went back to the waiting room again, so Dad could rest. In the corridor, I just couldn’t stop smiling and rejoicing. I was “walking and leaping and praising God,” as the saying goes. My burden was light and it felt so good! That night when we went home, we e-mailed and phoned everyone with the good news.
Over the next two days, Dad was in a lot of pain. Twice, his heart rate sped up to 200 beats per minute. The nurses rushed around him, and gave him a shot of medicine to stop the fluttering. “It’s not unusual for muscular men to have this problem,” they said. “But every time it happens, he’ll have to stay another twenty-four hours to make sure it’s gone.”
By Friday, Dad had improved. He was almost off the oxygen. That afternoon, however, he had another episode of his heart “fluttering.”
The next morning, the surgeon and caseworker came in to check-up on Dad. They were very pleased with how he looked and thought that maybe Dad could go home the next day, as long as he didn’t have another bout of fluttering. As they went out the door, the caseworker said to the doctor, “You were just looking at a miracle!”
Wow, I thought, that’s wonderful! They could see it! We praised the Lord for their response; it was just what we were praying for.
Sunday came around and we were all anticipating Dad’s release. To our disappointment, they announced that it wouldn’t be until tomorrow. “We just want to make sure his heart rate is stable,” the nurse said.
We spent some time reading the Bible and praying. That afternoon, Dad shared with us how the Lord helped him. “After my surgery,” he said, “I was in such pain, I didn’t know if I was going to make it, even during my bouts of heart fluttering, I cried out to the Lord, and I prayed through the power of the blood of Jesus…and…and the pain went away!”
All of a sudden, Dad started to weep.
Mom went over and embraced him. Tears of joy came forth on Mom’s face and I could feel my own face moistened with tears. That was the first time I ever saw my Dad really cry! Oh, the glorious power of Christ! You could just feel the presence of the Lord in that hospital room! Words couldn’t even describe the sweetness of it! Hallelujah, praise you, Jesus!
Freedom from the confines of the hospital came for Dad the next afternoon. Joyfully, I retrieved the car and Dad settled in the leather seat, taking it all in—the fresh air and blue skies.
The road to recovery would take sometime, but the healing process could begin right now—at home. God had answered our prayers, and He was there beside us—all the way. We were floating on His wings of mercy.
