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by Virginia ThompsonIt was Christmas Eve morning 1998 and everything was almost in order.
"Hi, my name is Virginia and I called this morning," I said. I was so ready for it all to be over. I had no idea what was about to happen.
"Hi, Virginia, my name is Cheryl," the funeral director replied. "I will be helping you today."
I had no idea at that time just how much she would be helping me. This attractive, little forty-something-year-old lady was about to take part in a miracle, my miracle.
"I want to take care of my final arrangements," I said. "My husband and parents have already been through so much," I said, holding back tears. "I want you to know how much I appreciate you coming in this morning. I am only in town for a short time and wanted to get this taken care of while I still can. I know you must have been busy getting ready for the holiday."
"It's no problem, Virginia. I am glad to be here for you," Cheryl sweetly replied.
For the next hour we went over my choices. I chose the pink one, nothing fancy, just your basic casket. Then the dreaded question came, "May I ask what your terminal illness is, Virginia?"
"Cancer," I immediately responded.
Now comes the part I still have a hard time grasping. If you were a funeral director and a lady walked in claiming to be terminally ill with cancer, could you look into her eyes and say, "I want you to know you aren't going to need this, but I will write it up for you if you wish?" Cheryl did.
I was in complete shock. After a few moments I said, "What do you mean I am not going to need this?"
Meanwhile, I thought to myself, I am dying, and this is what dying people do. The only difference is my disease is depression instead of cancer. Everything was set for me to kill myself. I had been planning and storing up pills for months.
Cheryl looked down for a brief moment as if to prepare herself for the statement she was about to make, "When the secretary called me at home this morning and said someone was coming in to make their final arrangements I knew it was not necessary for me to come in; one of the others here could have helped you. But as I went on preparing for the holiday, the Lord was speaking to my heart. He let me know that I was to tell you that Jesus loves you, Virginia. He isn't through with you yet. You are not going to need this right now, but if you want, I will write it up for you. And I want you to know that I will be praying for you everyday."
For a moment I was paralyzed. When I left the funeral home, I felt as if I were floating to my car, barely able to feel my own legs moving. The rest of the day I was just numb.
Christmas passed and I went back home to Orlando, Florida, with my family none the wiser. Back at work, I found myself constantly going over what happened back home in Indiana over the holiday.
I returned to church and wept uncontrollably as I listened to the sermons that seemed to be written just for me. I believe in God and I have been saved since the age of 11, but I still couldn't believe what had happened to me at the funeral home. Stories like this are always third-party tales that happened to Sally's uncle's best friend back in Oregon or somewhere. You know what I mean? And more importantly, why me? I didn't ask for a miracle.
"You are getting your wires crossed up there, because I prayed for my pain to end, not for a miracle," I said aloud to God. "I am no one special. I didn't ask for a miracle and if my brother couldn't get one, then I don't want one." If my brother would have gotten a miracle I was sure he would not have pulled his truck into my parents' garage and sealed it shut to kill his pain.
I was full of guilt, not understanding why I was sent this angel to remind me of Jesus' love for me when my brother didn't receive the same. Then, one day while praying and crying, trying to figure it all out, peace fell upon me. I felt the Lord speak to me so clearly, "You do not know that your brother was not given a miracle. I love all of my children. Maybe he didn't accept his miracle; it is not for you to know. Trust in Me, follow Me for I am the giver of the Light you seek." I decided that day to accept that I was given a miracle.
I had to call Cheryl to thank her and tell her just what my plans had been that day. "Cheryl," I said, "the day I came in to make my funeral arrangements I was..."
She stopped me and said, "You were going to kill yourself. I know what you were going to do."
"But how could you have known?" I cried.
Her reply was so confident and full of faith, "The Lord spoke to me that morning as I was preparing for the holidays. He told me you were coming to make your final arrangements because you were going to kill yourself. He told me I was to tell you of His love for you and that He wasn't done with you yet and that He would take care of the rest."
I had suffered with clinical depression my entire life, never getting the medical attention I needed. Today, after my church lead me to professional help, I am greatly recovered. I still experience bouts of depression, but they are few and far between and are much less severe.
I still get weak inside when I remember just how close I came to death by my own hands. I thank the Lord continuously for the miracle I received.
The first step of a miracle is for the children of the Lord to be obedient to Him. If Cheryl would have not obeyed the Lord that Christmas Eve morning two years ago, I am sure my parents would have buried their only remaining child, my children would be without a mother, and my husband without a wife. We must always stay close to the Lord so the Holy Spirit can direct our paths. We must be aware that we may be on either end of a miracle at any moment.
Maybe you've never experienced the Holy Spirit speaking to you in such a direct way as He did in this story. Perhaps He seems like a mystery to you.
The Holy Spirit is our helper. Each day, every moment, He can enable you to follow God's plan for your life. You can pray to be filled with the Holy Spirit right now. Here's a suggested prayer:
Dear Father, I need you. I acknowledge that I have sinned against you by directing my own life. I thank You that You have forgiven my sins through Christ's death on the cross for me. I now invite Christ to again take His place on the throne of my life. Fill me with the Holy Spirit as You commanded me to be filled, and as You promised in Your Word that You would do if I asked in faith. I pray this in the name of Jesus. As an expression of my faith, I thank You for directing my life and for filling me with the Holy Spirit. Amen.
Today, Virginia Thompson is an activist and educator on depression and suicide. She is available for speaking engagments. Email her here.
If you or any one you know is experiencing symptoms of depression for two weeks or longer, please take it seriously. See our health article on depression for more information.
