Now this is a beautiful story about a little boy that God shone His light
upon. We will call him Caz. Caz’s mother wrote me the following story:
 
	       
	This is the truth about an awesome miracle our entire family witnessed,
as well as many people at our church.
	Althought it was a difficult birth,Caz was born a healthy looking,
beautiful baby boy. His progress seemed  normal for the first few months.
When we took Caz in for his six month needle, the doctor assured us he
would be sitting up soon. But he didn’t. That was in September, and by
January little Caz was still not sitting up. He also had one hand	that would
not open, and his Grandma called it his sunflower hand.
	 “He has a little sunflower seed in it that he doesn’t want anyone to
see!”she would say.
	Folks forget from child to child what is considered ‘normal’, and so it
was with Caz. He seemed happy and healthy enough, so it was not until the
end of January when we took him to the doctor about his hand.
	The doctor thought perhaps it was ‘Erbs Palsy’, a pinched nerve in
Caz’s neck, and so an appointment was made with a physiotherapist.
	I could tell by the the therapist’s facial expression that she was deeply
concerned, but she said nothing to me. We had known her for years, and I
knew this was a bad sign.
	my husband, Rick, was working 3 hours away from home the day I
noticed something peculiar. Caz had a strange twitch, and as I watched him,
it continued. I knew in my bones that he was having seizures! I phoned a
friend, and we rushed him to our doctor immediately. As fate would have it,
our doctor was not in, and someone else looked at Caz. I was accused of
being an over-imaginative new mother.
	Caz was then subjected to numerous brain scans and tests, and it
finally came out that he had suffered a major stroke which had destroyed
one third of his brain! 
	I shall never forget when the specialist held the MRI picture up against
the window, and told us that Caz would never walk, or talk, feed himself ,nor
be able to do anything else for that matter!  He told us that we might as well
institutionalise Caz, since he would never amount to anything. We fired him
immediately!
	Next, we took little Caz to the neurologist, who is a wonderful, caring
man. He told us that he didn’t believe Caz’s intelligence had been affected
and that he would most likely be able to walk eventually. He said Caz would
always have a pronounced limp, and that he would be unsteady on his feet
since his whole right side had been paralysed. He went on to say that Caz
would never be able to talk because that part of his brain had a lesion, and
that he would never have use of his entire right arm.
	We felt that this was somewhat more encouraging than the last
doctor’s prognosis.
	We were determined that Caz would walk and be the best that he
could be. We spent hours upon hours doing physio and occupational
therapy.By the time Caz was three, he could only toddle from one piece of
furniture to the next. As for his speech,we taught him sign language, because
he could only make three or four consonant sounds, and no words.If he
learned a new sound, he lost an old one. Three or four sounds were his limit.
	But smart? At two years of age Caz could ask for his wants in
one-handed sign language dialect. By two and a half, he could sign in small
sentences. His right arm and hand were still useless to him, and he was on
medication to prevent the 140 or more seizures that he would have daily.
	It was around this time that an old friend of Rick’s passed away, and
and I felt an incredible urge to attend the funeral. Now, I am from the city
originally, and I was not raised going to funerals like the country folk here. I
dreaded them! Even though Rick was scheduled to work that day, I couldn’t
help but feel that I had to attend the funeral.
	This particular funeral service was held at a local Pentecostal church. I
had been there on occasion, but not for many years. I abhored church, and
avoided it like the plague!This is where it starts to get a little strange. I
enjoyed the funeral service so much, that during the luncheon afterwards, I
asked the pastor (whom I had never met) if I could come to his church!
	We had only attended the church a few times after this when our
miracle came to pass...
	We were sitting in the pew, when the pastor asked the young children
to go downstairs for junior church. Caz really enjoyed going to Sunday school
with the other children, but this day he cried and and made such a fuss when
his older brother,James, tried to take him down. I finally agreed to let Caz
stay, on the condition that he sit quietly during the sermon. he nodded,”Yes.”
	Caz sat quietly through the entire sermon, not a peep out of him.
When the pastor had finished preaching, he invited folks to come forward for
healing. I was unfamiliar with this, and I was not yet comfortable with it.
I was still trying to get used to lifting my hands in the air while praising
God!Caz had never been to a healing service before.
	Imagine my surprise when Caz began pulling on my arm, insisting that
we go forward! When I asked him if he wanted to go up to the front of the
church for healing, he nodded his little blond head,”Yes!” So up we went,Caz
limping his funny little limp, me holding his tiny hand to steady him. I doubt
Caz even knew what ‘healing‘ meant at that time.
	We had barely gotten to the front of the church, when the pastor
reached out his hand to pray for Caz.Before he even touched Caz, my little
one was laying on the floor, resting quietly, smiling for the longest time. I
had never heard of ‘slain in the spirit’ before, but I am sure that this is what
had happened.
	I recall kneeling on the floor beside Caz, holding onto his ankle,
praying for his leg and his speech to be healed. I also remember hearing the
pastor praying for his leg. I felt like I was being pushed down into a kneeling
position by a warm light...it was very strange!
	And then it was over. It felt like Caz and I had been there for
hours,when in reality I believe it was only about twenty minutes. We put on
our jackets and went home.
	At this time, Caz was in physio therapy four times a week, and
occupational therapy three times a week. He attended speech therapy
bi-weekly, and had to take ‘frisium’ twice daily for seizure control. He had a
‘special services’ worker twice weekly, and an assortment of other therapists
coming and going as well. He was being monitored by two neurologists, two
general practioners, an upper extremity orthopedic surgeon, and another
orthopedic surgeon for his leg. They all kept records of Caz’s progress.
	The Monday following our ‘experience’ at the church, Caz’s special
services worker took him into physio as usual. We mentioned nothing about
what had happened in church. The thererapist commented that Caz’s leg
seemed much better that day. We thought nothing of it, since he often had
‘good days’.	
	The following day we set off for physio again, this time to a different
therapist. She, too, remarked about the improvemant in Caz’s leg, saying,”If
he keeps up like this, I won’t need to see him anymore!”
	Wednesday, we returned to the first therapist’s office, but this time
something was different; Caz was beginning to talk! Again, the therapist
remarked about the amazing improvement in Caz’s leg, but the highlight of
the day was his speech.
	It had been our practice for Caz to travel with a notebook containing
information on his daily progress. He was involved with so many different
workers that we found this to be the best way to keep abreast of the
ever-changing goals. We also kept a log in it of the signs Caz knew and was
working on, together with some notes on the dialect of his language.
	Within a week, Caz’s oral vocabulary was quite large and he had
begun speaking in sentences! Inside of a month, the task of keeping track of
his ever-increasing number of words was too much for us. After a couple of
months, we discontinued the practise, because he was progressing too
rapidly for us to keep up with him. Within two months of his visit to the front
of the church,Caz was discharged from speech therapy. I am happy and
proud to report that he is still speaking well, and within the normal level of a
child his age.
	By the end of spring, Caz had been discharged by the second
physiotherapist, but he continued to work with the other one, because his
appointments were largely based on occupational therapy. By the time
summer rolled around, Caz could run, jump, climb stairs and walk on a curb
unassisted. He has been discharged from the orthopedic surgeon who looked
after his leg!
	When Caz began to show all these improvements, I tried to get an
appointment with the neurologist, but the soonest we could get in was two
months time. So I began to reduce his medication on my own. By the end of
a month he was no longer taking any at all. When we finally got in to see the
surgeon, Caz had been medication free and seizure free for two months. The
neurologist continued to monitor Caz for another year,  and has since
discharged him from his active files. Caz has been free from seizures to this
very day!
	Interestingly, his arm has been slow to progress. His arm remains
essentially the same. It is ‘helping hand’ only. I have often wished I had
thought to pray for the healing of his arm on that Sunday...
	At present, Caz is a very healthy five year old. He is very active and
enjoys running and playing with his brothers and his peers. This past
summer, he taught himself to swim about one hundred feet without a
lifejacket or any type of support, and he can proudly swim to the bottom of
our pool to retrieve the rings we toss for him. His doctors and therapists are
all amazed at his progress.
	For me, however, the most amazing thing about all of this  happened
to Caz sometime after the healing began.
	From the moment he could talk, he would persistently ask to go to
church. “We go church today?” he would say whenever someone was getting
dressed to go out. If the answer was no, then he was disappointed.
	One Sunday, about nine months after the healing, our family
remained behind at the church visiting with another family. When it was time
to leave, I asked our older children to get the younger three boys ready to
go. It was winter, and there was a good deal of clothing to be put on. But
no-one could find Caz. He was not downstairs playing with the toys, nor
could he be found anywhere inside the building. Eventually, James found him
lying on the floor in the same place where he had been healed.
	James was amazed when he saw Caz. He was just lying there staring
up at the ceiling and smiling. He must have been there for some twenty
minutes or more, and James continued to watch him for anither five minutes
or so. He could stand the suspense no longer.
	“Hey Caz!” James called.”Watcha lookin’ at?”He had to call several
more times before he got any reaction from his little brother. James told me
he could feel something above Caz, but could see nothing. Again and again
James asked what Caz was looking at, until finally Caz  pointed to the ceiling
and said,”Man... smiling man!”
	He lay there for a few more minutes, then jumped up and ran down
the aisle.
	Since that time, Caz tells us that he saw Jesus. It is not uncommon for
Caz to talk to adult strangers, and tell them of the love that Jesus has for
them. Caz always has something a little bit different in his being when he
talks like that to others...
	I may never know exactly what happened those days when Caz was up
at the front of the church, but this I do know: Caz had some sort of an
encounter with GOD!