The First Miracle
by Raymond Warren Bennett on 09/18/12A miracle is a phenomenon not fully explained by known laws of nature, or an act by some supernatural entity or unknown outside force. Some scientists and theologians suggest that miracles are not violations of the laws of nature but explorations of a new realm of physical experience. With divine providence, God regularly works through created nature, yet is free to work without it, above or against it as well. Miracles happen everyday, and to most, are never fully realized. A birth of a child is often considered commonplace, but in reality, the momentous occasion could be argued to be a true miracle. A driver who's car is mangled in a multi-car pileup, yet walks away unscathed, has been truly blest with a miracle, but many would brush the incident off to be nothing more than just pure luck. A person lying in a hospital bed on the brink of death, who suddenly makes an unbelievable recovery, has more than likely been blest with a miracle, though the medical industry would claim it was all due to medicine. The watchful eye and presence of God is everywhere and His gifts are abundant including the gifts of His many miracles given to us each day, both small and significant in size.
In April of 2000, my mother, Marjorie, was admitted to the hospital suffering with severe abdominal pains. She was later diagnosed with a major bowel blockage, but due to her 82 years of age and her ongoing symptoms with lung disease, the doctors thought she was too frail for an operation. A regime of large volume industrial strength citrus nitrate drinks (my words, not the doctors) were given to her on a scheduled timeframe throughout each day for a four day run. Mother was a trooper, never complaining while holding on with pure faith that this medical alternative would work. Success came shortly after consuming the twelfth cocktail of this human liquid plumber (again, my words not the doctors). She and the rest of the family thought she was now out of the woods and soon could be released back into my care.
By the evening of the very same day, mother seemed to be a little out of sorts, and at first I thought it was just signs of pure exhaustion. After all she had been through a lot for a woman of her age and one in her condition, but regardless, I brought it to the attention of the night nurses. I was told not to worry - she is just fine - a little worn out - now that the worst is behind her, she'll be much better in the morning after a good nights sleep. I knew my mother very well, and therefore stressed that her new symptoms were stemming from something more than just pure exhaustion, but once again I was assured that all was okay. Approximately around 5:20 AM the next morning I was wakened by a call from the hospital's House Doctor who informed me that my mother had taken a turn for the worse and was now dying. Unfortunately I had been correct in my earlier assumption that something was terribly wrong with her condition.
After receiving the bad news, I quickly showered, shaved and dressed for my early trip back to the hospital, but before leaving the house I knew I needed to make a few phone calls. A strong voice within instructed me to first call Monsignor Helduser, the then pastor of St. Dorothy's, my former church in Drexel Hill, Pennsylvania, and ask if he would come to the hospital and perform The Last Rights ceremony for my mom, and he graciously agreed to do so. The other calls were placed to my two brothers, informing them of the recent turn of events and the House Doctor's suggestion for the family to hurry to our mother's bedside.
Upon my arrival I soon learned that my mother's breathing had become very labored around midnight - the evening before. That situation was soon followed by a series of life threatening symptoms which were attended to by a team of specialists working arduously throughout the wee hours of the morning to try and improve her condition, but to no avail. My mother's heart had begun pumping fluids into her lungs, so much that I was told she would soon drown internally, and of course this was causing her oxygen levels to drop dangerously low. In addition, her carbon levels were so high that if she did not drown from the excess fluids, she would die from the carbon gases poisoning her blood stream. It was hard to believe at the time, in fact I was very puzzled, for you see, when as a child, I was told by the Blessed Mother that it was important to God's plan that my mother live to the age of 84, and at that moment she was two weeks away from her 82nd birthday. None of this made any sense to me.
Monsignor Helduser walked into my mother's hospital room close to 11:30 that morning with an apology for appearing so late, but due to the arrival of Easter week, Monsignor had several Masses to celebrate beforehand. My family and I were just so appreciative that he agreed to come, and so thankful that he made it in time. Monsignor performed The Last Rights ceremony as requested, then turned to the family and offered up his sympathies for reasons that were obvious. Funny thing, I watched the Monsignor as he walked towards the door to exit the room, and as he reached the passage to the hallway, he stopped as if something unseen was telling him to do so. At this point in time, my family had gathered back around my mother's bedside, unaware of what I was noticing. It appeared as though Monsignor Helduser was listening to a voice that only he could hear. He cocked his head slightly to the left and paused, then he cocked his head slightly to the right and paused again. I knew at that point that something divine was happening, but exactly what I wasn't sure.
After standing within inches of the door frame for a period of time, Monsignor turned inward towards the family and said, "I have a thought, let us all gather around Marjorie's bed, hold hands and pray to the Blessed Mother and ask Her to help Marjorie in her hour of need. The pastor then led us in prayer as each of us followed his lead. When the prayers were completed, Monsignor Helduser once again offered up his sympathies and exited the room. Perhaps it had only been five to ten minutes later when my mother's eyelids began to flutter and her lips began to form a few words. I can still remember my two brothers' reactions to be somewhat confused, but for me, I began to rejoice in my heart for I was sensing what was about to happen . . . something wonderful . . . something of God.
To make a long story short as they say, within another seven to ten minutes later and before the Monsignor had probably even reached his car in the parking garage, my mother's eyes were fully opened and she was talking clearly. I still can recall how excited I was, not only to know that my mother was fully back with us, but that she was a recipient of something divine - - a miracle. Moments later I went running out of the room and down the hallway to the nurses station trying so hard to be articulate in explaining what had just happened, but due to my mother's previous condition, and my uncontrollable excitement, I was not believed. One kind nurse placed me in a chair, while she attempted to inform me I was in a mild form of shock, followed by the offer of a sedative. I demanded for her to go to my mother's room and see for herself. "If I do that for you, would you then consider taking the sedative?, she asked. I replied with, "Yes I will". At that point I would of promised that nurse anything to get her to go to my mother's room and witness the miraculous recovery for herself.
I remained in the chair and watched as this young, slight woman casually walked down the hallway and into my mother's room, and seconds later watched with delight as she came running out of the room yelling and screaming for the other nurses and doctor's to come to the scene. Suffice it to say that I wasn't the only one who needed a sedative that day. The results of the examinations that followed boggled the minds of each physician. A woman who had been on the brink of death just one hour before was now sitting up and talking clearly. In addition, her lungs were now free of excess fluids, her heart was beating normally, and her oxygen levels, blood sugars and blood gases were all normal. She even asked what was for lunch.
The Blessed Mother told me at the tender age of seven years and eight months old that it was important to God's plan that my mother live to the the age of 84 years old . . . and so in the end she did just that, passing away on September 15, 2002 - two years and six months later. The Blessed Mother had also informed me that in my adult life She would begin to send me many signs, signs that would provide validation to the prophecy, and signs that would guide and prepare me for what would lie ahead. I believe I witnessed a true miracle that day, an event that perplexed everyone of my mother's doctors and nurses. A miracle that for me, served as the first sign of many signs to come.
