Bad news travels fast. Especially in a hospital.<\/p>\n
I should know; I\u2019ve been a registered nurse working in hospitals for more than 35 years. And that morning, the bad news was mine.<\/p>\n
I\u2019d just sat down in my office at the VA Medical Center and logged on to my computer when my friend Wanda walked in.<\/p>\n
\u201cI heard,\u201d she said. \u201cOne of the other nurses told me. I drove here like greased lightning just to see you.\u201d<\/p>\n
Wanda Fay Neaves is about the cutest thing you\u2019ve ever seen: Blue-eyed and petite, with graying strawberry-blonde hair, she always wore a hat to match her outfit. I\u2019d met her 15 years earlier when she had an appointment at our medical center.<\/p>\n
We hit it off right away. She was a Vietnam-era vet\u2013she\u2019d been a hospital corpsman in the Navy, where she drove an ambulance and served as an X-ray technician. But at the VA Wanda was best known for one thing: her prayers.<\/p>\n
Whenever she had an appointment here she stopped by my department. She\u2019d lead us in a prayer of protection for the day, or ask if anyone had a special need. Or she\u2019d bring us inspiring poems she\u2019d written. I always felt closer to God when Wanda was around. That was something I needed more than ever right now.<\/p>\n
The day before, I\u2019d had my annual mammogram. The moment the radiologist walked into my room with the results, I knew something was wrong. Terribly wrong. He fiddled with his pen and stared at the floor, just like my mother\u2019s doctor eight years before when he delivered her diagnosis.<\/p>\n
Next to lung carcinoma, breast cancer is the leading cause of cancer deaths in women. It killed my mother. I\u2019d known I was at risk because of my strong family history (Mom\u2019s sister also had breast cancer). Still, the diagnosis was devastating. Especially considering what I\u2019d already been through in life.<\/p>\n
I\u2019d endured 32 surgeries due to neurofibromatosis, a genetic disorder that causes benign tumors to grow on nerves, mostly in the head and neck. Thirty-two times, I\u2019d pleaded to God for healing. And 32 times, the answer had been a resounding no.<\/p>\n
Wasn\u2019t it enough that my cranial and facial tumors had disfigured me and made me feel \u201cless than\u201d as a woman, like I wasn\u2019t worthy of love? My husband had left me because he couldn\u2019t handle my illness and now I was all alone. Did I have to suffer even more?<\/p>\n
Wanda\u2019s voice pulled me back to the present. \u201cTonight my church, Christ Temple, is having a healing service,\u201d she said. \u201cI really want you to come, Roberta. People have had their hearing restored, depression relieved…cancer healed.\u201d<\/p>\n
Healing service? Been there, done that. <\/em>Several years earlier, when a tumor in my brain returned, I went to one. The minister asked for anyone who needed healing to gather at the altar. I couldn\u2019t get there fast enough. That night, others around me proclaimed they\u2019d been touched by God and healed.<\/p>\n Me? I didn\u2019t feel a thing. Nothing. The pain, the tumor were still there. I couldn\u2019t understand it. Why were they healed and not me? If God loved me, didn\u2019t I deserve to be healed too?<\/p>\n Afterward, friends wanted to know what had happened at the service. \u201cMy tumor wasn\u2019t healed,\u201d I told them. \u201cI\u2019ll need several more surgeries. But I received a different kind of touch. I was healed of the need to be healed.\u201d I must have sounded convincing because they believed me.<\/p>\n But deep in my heart, I didn\u2019t believe it. I longed, desperately longed, to be healed. Still, if God hadn\u2019t chosen to heal my body in the past, after all my pleas, why would he heal me now?<\/p>\n <\/p>\n I couldn\u2019t confess my doubts to Wanda. She was so excited about this service.<\/p>\n \u201cOkay,\u201d I said. \u201cFor you, I\u2019ll go. I\u2019ll meet you at your church at seven.\u201d<\/p>\n After work, I stopped at my friend Sue\u2019s. She played the piano at my church and we often talked about our faith. I told her about Wanda\u2019s unwavering conviction that I would be healed.<\/p>\n \u201cThat reminds me of that story in the Bible,\u201d Sue said. \u201cThe one where the friends of a paralyzed man took him to see Jesus. Remember? They carried him on a mat but they couldn\u2019t get him to Jesus because of the crowd. So they made an opening in the roof, then lowered the man through.<\/p>\n “Jesus healed the man because of the faith of his friends. It was an active, humble faith\u2013like your friend Wanda\u2019s.\u201d<\/p>\n I thought about that all the way to Christ Temple that evening. But that was in biblical times, <\/em>I decided. Not today. <\/em>T he parking lot at Christ Temple was overflowing. I spotted Wanda in a yellow top, a long blue skirt\u2013and blue hat to match.<\/p>\n She led me to a seat on the left side of the spacious sanctuary. The choir burst out into song. Wanda held me and rocked me to the beat of the music, whispering, \u201cJesus cares, love. He wants to make you whole again.\u201d<\/p>\n The minister\u2019s message centered around healing Scriptures. Then he asked for anyone who had sickness of any kind to come forward. \u201cThis is your time, Roberta,\u201d Wanda whispered.<\/p>\n When someone cares for you, really <\/em>cares, even the way they say your name is different.<\/p>\n Wanda headed toward the front of the sanctuary. I trailed after her, walking slowly, as if I already knew the discouraging verdict. The crowd was huge! We didn\u2019t even make it close to where the minister was standing.<\/p>\n \u201cLet\u2019s just leave,\u201d I told Wanda. \u201cThere are so many people here, he\u2019ll never get to me.\u201d \u201cThat\u2019s okay, love,\u201d she said. \u201cWe don\u2019t need to be where the minister can see us. God knows where you are.\u201d She stroked my hair, then tucked a strand behind my ear with great tenderness, the way a mother does.<\/p>\n I leaned in to my friend\u2019s touch\u2013and even more, her words. I\u2019d never felt more loved. God knows where I am, <\/em>I thought. God knows who I am.<\/em><\/p>\n Wanda took my hand. \u201cOh, precious Jesus, heal my friend Roberta,\u201d she said. Just at that moment, a strange warmth surged through my body, almost like an electrical current. At first I was confused, on the verge of being frightened. It was a feeling within my body that wasn\u2019t actually me.<\/p>\n \u201cWanda!\u201d I shouted. \u201cSomething\u2019s happening…. I\u2019m burning up!\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI know, love,\u201d she said. \u201cI feel it too!\u201d<\/p>\n Another burst of heat pulsed through my chest. Fiery but not painful, no longer frightening, but comforting, warm and reassuring in a way I had never known. For a moment, I felt light-headed and weak-kneed. \u201cIt\u2019s happening again,\u201d I said to Wanda.<\/p>\n She squeezed my hand tightly and nodded.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n