Our family joined Emmanuel Baptist Church the last Sunday of 1979 at the very real prompting of the Holy Spirit. Through the years we have had our ups and downs with the church--seeing things we've not always been happy with--but ultimately, we have lived through one of the greatest evidences of God at work and using the people, the body of believers who make up this church.

Tuesday, May 8, 1990. Our oldest son, Greg (a high-school senior) had been complaining of a sore throat for several days, but kept insisting it was not bad enough to go see the doctor. Therefore, we'd sent him back to school on that Tuesday morning never suspecting what that sore throat meant. Halfway through the day Greg could take the pain no longer. The school nurse contacted his father and after being rejected by all the doctors when they initially called to try to get Greg looked at, the ear/nose/throat specialist had a "sudden" cancellation so they said to bring Greg on in. Greg had barely opened his mouth for the doctor when his abscessed tonsil ruptured and he had to be rushed to the hospital--if he aspirated any of the pus into his lungs it could potentially kill him. Greg was severely dehydrated and they had great difficulty starting the I.V., but by the time I arrived on the scene (I was busy attending school where they had not been able to locate me), things were under control. The doctor assured us the crisis was past and that as soon as they got Greg's fluid levels back up and antibiotics in his system he would be able to go home. We marvelled at the "sudden" cancellation that had put Greg under a doctor's supervision at the critical moment.

Being a well-trained church member and choir member, I called Dan Heath to inform him of Greg's hospitalization. I reached the answering machine and left a message telling him that although it could have been potentially life threatening, it was no big deal, etc. Later Dan returned my call and while we were visiting he scheduled me to sing about six to seven weeks in the future, a highly unusual advance notice for me to sing. Little did either one of us understand why the scheduling was so different this one time.

Wednesday, May 9, 1990. My husband had to go out of town on business. I was busy trying to get the other three kids situated in school (two different ones), get to the hospital to be there when the doctor made rounds, still try to make it to class, and go to the high school to pick up Greg's graduation announcements and any homework. Greg was concerned about the absentee policy at school and I told him I would personally visit with the principal to make sure there would be no problem, that the school certainly would understand the difference between being sick in the hospital and just not feeling good so you decided not to go to school. When the doctor came by that morning, I asked about Greg's blood work since we knew that was a routine part of a hospital admission and Greg had recently tried to donate blood and they'd turned him down because he was anemic. We thought we might as well follow up on that now. The doctor said he really hadn't looked at the test results, but said he'd check on them. He went down the hall and just moments later returned to say that not only was Greg anemic, but his counts were so low that had he required surgery they would have had to totally transfuse him. The doctor then said this was out of his field and that he would need to call in another doctor.

I went on to school and periodically called trying to find out if the new doctor had been in and we apparently kept missing each other. Later that afternoon I returned to the hospital with Greg's graduation announcements and was told that the doctor wanted me to call his office since we'd missed connections all day. I called and amazingly was put straight through to the doctor. He asked the typical background medical questions and family medical history questions and then asked when we could meet. I told him that I would arrange my schedule to meet whenever would work best for him explaining that my husband was out of town. When the doctor found out Willi would not be back until very late that night, he set the meeting for somewhere around 6:30 p.m. Normally, I would have headed to church, but I figured if it didn't take long I would go up after I'd met with the doctor and just be late for choir.

Shortly after 5:00 p.m., the original specialist came by. Greg was asleep. The doctor asked if I had visited with the other doctor yet. I said that we were to meet shortly. The doctor then asked me out into the hall and said that he felt I ought to know what he was going to tell me -- Greg had acute myelogenous leukemia. The doctor said he really didn't know anything about it, that he'd have to look it up, but he thought I ought to know.

Words really cannot express the stunned numbness that invaded my being. I went back into the room fighting tears, not wanting to disturb Greg, not wanting to have to tell him anything, not able to handle the news I'd just been given. In desperation I finally decided that I could pull myself together long enough to call the church and ask for Clif (Cummings, the youth minister) or Dan. Surely I could hold together long enough to do that. Unless you've ever tried to get someone to answer the phone at the church after hours you don't know how long you can have to wait for some passer-by to finally answer. On the second ring, Clif answered the phone. I guess God knew that I really couldn't hold together long enough to ask for him. I told Clif what the doctor had said and explained that the diagnosing doctor was due at the hospital in less than an hour to tell Greg. Clif reminded me that it was Wednesday night and he had youth group, but he said he'd see what he could do.

The doctor was delayed. I ended up in the hallway as the tears became more and more difficult to contain and I knew I couldn't wait in the room without giving things away. Before the doctor arrived, Clif was there in the hall with me along with our pastor's wife, Sandy Smith. As we entered the room together with the doctor, Greg knew instantly that something was terribly wrong. It was so wonderful to have the support of a minister who knew Greg and that Greg knew cared about him right there at that moment. The doctor told us of arrangements to transfer Greg to a hospital in Oklahoma City the next morning. With acute leukemia there was no time to delay.

In the numbness, Sandy drove me home to get the girls. They had been home planning a surprise birthday party for me--but the surprise ended up being on all of us. Sandy gathered the girls and their things up and took them home with her so that we wouldn't need to worry about them on top of everything else. When I spoke with Dan that evening I asked if he could take our youngest son home with him, and he agreed instantly.

We were asked if we wanted to keep this private and I said no, so that very evening word went out to the youth and choir and others at church and that very evening the prayers and support of Christians began to bathe us with God's presence.

That night we began to glimpse what we would see more of over the coming weeks and months. We found ourselves crying buckets of tears, but laughing till our sides hurt as different people came and gathered around Greg and he and his friends would start relating funny experiences.

I made the decision that nothing should be said to my husband until he got back into town because I didn't want him on the road driving under the additional emotional pressure the news would bring. He suspected though. The ministers from the church all came up to the hospital in the early hours of the morning to be there when Willi arrived and to share their support with him as well.

Thursday, May 10, 1990. While waiting for the ambulance, I picked up the phone to call the school that my girls attended and let them know what had happened so they could be understanding if the girls became emotional. Our youngest son attended the Christian school at church, but the girls were in public school. They had a teachers' meeting that morning and my girls told tales later of how amazed they were (since they didn't know about my call). One of the men from the church (David Stogsdill) was my oldest daughter's science teacher and he'd sat down and talked with her about the scientific ends of everything. Other teachers were exceptionally kind throughout the day.

Early that morning we set out to Oklahoma City by ambulance since Greg was on I.V. antibiotics that they did not wish to discontinue. In the emptiness of my mind the words kept time with the thump of the tires over the tar strips on the road--just like a broken record, "In my weakness, He is made strong" followed by the very clear thought, "O.K., God, you're on, cause I'm certainly weak." Over and over and over again those words echoed through the recesses of my mind.

The doctor in Oklahoma City was there to meet us when we arrived. He assured us that things were not as bleak as we thought, that Greg had an excellent chance of coming through all that lay ahead--after all, Greg was a very healthy 18 year old, who just happened to have leukemia. Because of the severe infection they would not begin the actual cancer treatment until the following Monday since chemo would destroy his body's ability to fight infection and they had to be sure he was free of infection before they did that. The doctor explained that Greg would be hospitalized for approximately a month, then he'd get a month out, and then the process would repeat itself several times.

A young lady who had grown up in the youth program at Emmanuel had called me before we left Enid to tell me that she lived very close to the hospital and that she would bring me a key and that I would stay there. She and her roommate believed God had recently led them to this particular apartment so they could share it with others. First thing, she came by the hospital, gave me the key and instructions on how to find the apartment.

The Smith's and the Heath's each continued to keep one of our children while the youngest daughter went to stay with another family in the church (the Jerome Jenkins' family) who had a daughter in her grade at school--who had lost her mother to leukemia years earlier. Support groups were formed around us everywhere.

While Greg awaited the onset of chemo, his friends gathered round coming to visit and stay with him in the hospital. The routine was established that I would stay in the city during the week but on the weekend my husband and I would change places. It also gave me an opportunity to be with the other kids who continued to live with the different families who had taken them in during the week.

That first Sunday after diagnosis was Mother's Day. I'll never forget singing with the choir, "Jesus Loves Me this I Know" as our anthem. Tears streamed, but the truth echoed loud and clear. It never occurred to me to not sing. The reason I sing was the same as ever, and the need was probably greater than ever.

On Monday, chemo began in earnest. There can be nothing more difficult for a parent than to watch them connect a bag of what is in essence a poison to feed into your child's veins. To try and provide as much comfort as possible, we had put up posters on the walls and ceilings, brought up the Nintendo and CD player. Around the clock, the CD player poured forth the various contemporary Christian artists singing assurances that we needed desperately to hear-- Steve Green singing "He Who Began a Good Work In Me." Unconsciously, we were allowing God's word to permeate our minds and bodies and help us keep a focus and hope. I cannot fathom the non-Christian in the same situation who must face these dark moments without the hope that only Christ can give.

On Tuesday, Tom Martens, one of the single young men in the church who had befriended Greg, was working in Oklahoma City and came to the hospital to stay the night so I went to Sarah's apartment and flopped across the bed trying to relax. I put on a CD to listen to some music that was more to my taste than some of Greg's music. I selected an album I had at home and that I had listened to many times before. But as I lay stretched out on that bed, I heard a set of words for the first time. I had to get up and start the song over to make sure I hadn't been mistaken -- "I don't always understand what Your perfect will demands" -- God had led me to "my" song. This was the testimony God wanted me to share. This was why Dan had scheduled me to sing so many weeks ahead of time. He would never have asked after the diagnosis was made, but God had a message for me and for everyone else. God also knew I would need those weeks to reach a point where I could sing those words.

Throughout the month, the cards, the prayers, the visits and support of God's people were such that our finite minds could not fully comprehend them. Clif brought down a group of high school seniors in cap and gown and they played a tape of "Pomp and Circumstance" while they processed into Greg's room for his very own private graduation ceremony. It was a tough month, but God was there. Even the nurse's remarked that they'd never seen anything like it. Greg's room was like a magnet drawing doctors and nurses alike. The walls and ceiling were completely covered. You would never have guessed it was a hospital room.

During the month of June, Greg went to Super Summer where Clif arranged for him to work (in a non-taxing capacity). It was the spiritual shot-in-the-arm, Greg needed. He was devastated when he became ill and had to spend three precious days of his month of freedom in the hospital, but other than that he was constantly on the go cramming as much into that month as he could. It was also during this month that I had the privilege to stand before the church and share the song "In His Presence" as a testimony of the heart and not just pretty words and music. I didn't make it through without crying, but the tears could not take away from the truth to be found in trusting God even when I didn't understand.

In July, we returned to the doctor in Oklahoma City. As we met with him prior to Greg's admission for his second treatment, the doctor shared how excited he was about the prognosis for the treatment he was using with Greg. He'd just checked the latest research and there was a 50% survival at three years. 50%? That was exciting? That meant our son had a 50-50 chance to live to be 21!

The treatment in July was even more intense than the one in May. The first week and half, Greg sailed through amazingly well. Then his white count zeroed out. It was supposed to do that. But it wasn't coming back. While he lay there defenseless, infection ran rampant through his body. They diagnosed seven different blood stream infections and pneumonia. Despite the seven different I.V. antibiotics, nothing seemed to be helping. They placed Greg on a cooling blanket hoping to bring down the fever, but nothing was working. Late one night as I dozed in the chair by Greg's bedside, I had a dream so vivid that its reality stunned me. I found myself praying in desperation to God not to take my son, he was so young, I needed him. I will never forget God's voice asking if I thought I loved Greg more than He did. God then asked me if I were so selfish that I would truly ask Him to leave Greg here on earth if it were not God's will for Greg's life. He followed that question with a "vision" where I watched my son grow to an advanced age all the while knowing that he was never in God's perfect will because I had been too selfish to turn loose. In that moment, I learned to pray "not my will, but Thine."

The following Sunday morning as I stood with the choir, I heard Gary Smith mention the need to pray for Greg and another church member. Then he said he felt led to have a special time of prayer at 5:30 that afternoon just before the evening worship service. Because Greg was so ill, I returned to the hospital that afternoon. I had the privilege of seeing the power of prayer as between 5:30 and 6:00 p.m. that Sunday evening Greg's fever totally broke and did not return! From that moment of concentrated prayer, Greg's recovery was swift and again he made it out of the hospital after a month stay even though he'd been so critical for that short period of time.

In August, there was a special emphasis on the prayer ministry at church. I had the privilege of sharing this testimony with the church at the early morning service. Then at the second worship service, we had the privilege of listening as Greg shared and told others he was thankful for the leukemia and how God had used it in his life.

The treatment in July took its toll on Greg's immune system and his white count never fully recovered. Although the doctor tried to do the additional treatments, ultimately they were dismissed as no longer being therapeutic.

Throughout this time we saw God's church functioning in all its fullness. We saw the ministerial staff and other families in the church put action to their words by taking our children into their homes and including them in their family's lives while meeting each child's special needs. Tom Marten's opened his home to Greg allowing him to move in during that first school year when all his friends had gone away to college so that Greg wouldn't feel completely left out by being forced to stay at home with his parents. I look back now and I can see how God prepared each home, each step. The Smith's had lost their son who would have been Greg's age. Their daughter Kathy and our daughter Alana were able to talk and share feelings and concerns about brothers that would not have normally been possible. The Jenkins' had lost their mother to leukemia and their step-mom had lost a brother to cancer. They knew what was taking place, they knew the fears and they could help Carrie cope in a way we could not have done ourselves. The Heath's son Andrew had been Toby's best friend almost from birth. There was security there for him as well. Tom provided Greg with the opportunity to feel the independence a young man needs. But these weren't just random homes, these were God-appointed places where God prepared our church to meet our needs. Additionally, many in the church sent money to help offset the additional costs of living away from home. But most of all, we felt and saw the power of prayer as not just this group of people, but people around the world joined together to pray for our son. Truly, we saw the church at its very best.

Fall of 1991, Greg set out for college a year behind his friends, but ready to go. Before he left, we had the opportunity to sing a duet, "I Will Serve the Lord" -- ". . . though my foe may slay me, I will serve the Lord." That was Greg's testimony as he left for school.

On Wednesday, March 17, 1993, we received word that Greg had relapsed. Ironically, the word came on a Wednesday night while we were at church and once again people immediately began to lift us up in prayer. Because of the depressed white count, Greg had no other option than a bone marrow transplant.

That experience has to be among the worst anyone can go through, but God was good and is good. Now Greg is over 4 years out from the transplant. As of April 1998 (at 5 years) the doctors say there will only be a 1% chance of a recurrence of cancer. He has graduated from college and has a good job.

We glory in God's grace and goodness and the privilege we have had to see Him at work not just in our lives but in the corporate life of our church and the lives of Christians around the world.

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