Recipient of a Creative Miracle

I always enjoy telling the amazing story of my experience of God’s divine intervention in my life that happened over 57 years ago, that made me a recipient of a creative miracle that was beyond belief.

I've told this story of God's healing and restoration power many, many times over the years - and I will keep telling it! There will never be anything or any anybody that will ever cause me to believe that God does not do miracles in our times.

MIRACLE = There is a supernatural alignment
between Eternity and Time when God sovereignly intervenes in the affairs of man.

I was two weeks shy of being 18 years old (before Paul and were married) when we were involved in a car accident in Baltimore, Maryland. It happened when were driving out of a Maryland State Park, and the driver of the car (a Corvair Monza Spyder)

similar to this one

we were riding in lost control of the vehicle as we were going down a mountain road. The car left the road, going over a 15 foot mountain embankment, landing in a riverbed flowing down the side of the mountain. Although the car should have rolled end-over-end down the embankment, it appeared to have grown wings and floated out over the river and sat down right side up on a boulder. The Highway Patrol on the scene of our accident told us that if the car had landed 6 feet in either direction of that boulder, we would have been in water over our heads.

Among other smaller injuries, I received a compound fracture of my left upper arm. The bone was so shattered and the arm so mangled that the doctor felt it was impossible to save it and wanted to amputate it immediately. But, due to the fact that my parents were out of state at that time and wouldn’t be able to get to me for several hours, and I was not of age yet (18 years old) to sign my own surgery release papers, the doctor had my father send a Western Union to the hospital to give him “permission to operate and do what he deemed was necessary” for me. Paul, who was at the hospital when the surgical doctor received the Telegram, said that the doctor was so disgusted when he received it because the wording only included “permission to operate” and didn’t give him the authority to “amputate” (what he deemed was necessary)....he cursed saying it wasn't worth the paper it was written on, and threw it in the trash! The doctor took me to surgery and 'patched me up' the best he could until my parents could get there. (Again, the Lord had divinely intervened in the wording of that telegram so that my arm was saved!) 

I was taken to surgery where steel plates were bolted in my arm to hold the bone together and several stitches were done to close up some of the torn flesh (although a gaping 3” hole was still left). I awoke from surgery to find myself in a body cast from my neck to my waist.  I remained this way for two weeks, when one night my arm began to hurt in a way it had not hurt before; all the while a smelly, greenish-black fluid started running down my side under the cast from the open wound in the arm. When the doctor took off the body cast, my arm was swollen to three times its normal size and the open wound was oozing a foul-smelling greenish-black substance  . . . gangrene! The doctor told my father, “I told you two weeks ago that her arm could not be saved. . . Now, we must amputate it or your daughter will die.”  

Surgery for amputation was scheduled for 8:00 AM the next morning. My parents, Paul, and the church that Paul attended (Essex Church of God) began to pray - - - and by morning, when the doctor came in to check on me before surgery, my arm had regained its natural flesh coloring, the swelling had gone down, and the stinking gangrene fluid had vanished! Needless to say, the doctor was surprised with what he saw and upon realizing that my arm was all right (except for it being broken) he elected to put a body cast back on it and 'see what happens'. There was no need to amputate! (For the third time, a divine intervention was made in my behalf and my arm was saved!)

Is this the end of the story? No! After three months no bone had grown to close up the gap where it was shattered. The only thing to do, I was told, was to take bone from my leg and graft it in my arm and see if it would start the process. Again, the saints in Paul’s church were called to pray in my behalf......and, in less than a week, X-rays showed a small “sprout” of bone starting to grow and that surgery was not needed and it was cancelled! (Another visit from the divine Hand of God!)

About a year later, after going through months of physical therapy treatments to try to get back the full use of my arm (because it had frozen at a 90 degree angle due to the ligaments and tendons shrinking over the time it was immobile in various castings, which left me unable to raise or lower it on its own or to stretch it out completely); I was in church, standing at the pulpit, singing a special song with a ladies trio... I had my 'good' arm and hand raised up in the air in praise to God....when a “voice” said very clearly to me, “Why don’t you raise the other arm and hand.?”  I don’t remember even questioning the fact that I had not been able do such a thing....but I remember simply putting down my good arm and hand and ,not only lifting my bad arm and hand, but I stretched it completely out! 

I have had full use of this arm with absolutely no limitations since that day - it has been 57 years ago! 

By all definitions, I shouldn't even have this arm or, at the least, I should've been severely handicapped with great limitations. But...

I definitely have a miracle arm, thanks to the Almighty, divine, presence and intervention of a living God!