The miracle of my brother being instantly healed of meningitis
In my last blog I told you the story of how my finger was instantly healed after being chopped off by a guillotine, if you missed it, you can read it here. This story is about my older brother Roland who at the age of 9 was healed instantly of meningitis.
It was the night before Christmas in 1974, we were living in KwaZulu Natal in a town called Pietermaritzburg. I was 6 years old, Tyrone was 5 and Roland was 9. My cousin Sharon, who was also 9 was visiting for the holidays and we had spent the day at home making Christmas trimmings using crinkle paper, streamers and other bits and bobs and hanging them all up around the house. We also hung up all the Christmas cards on that thin red string with those little red pegs, that was so fashionable in that era. By the end of the day our house looked like a Christmas tree had thrown up in it, but we thought it looked amazing and we had great fun doing it.
In our house we had a lovely Christmas tradition where on Christmas eve we would all sit around the Christmas tree and sing carols. No excuse was needed to sing in our house as my mom loved music, her and my dad used to sing duets together and she was always getting us kids to sing. Wherever we were, there would be singing, in the car, at home, at church, at school, camping, as I said anywhere, anytime. So, after belting out some Christmas carols and leaving some milk and cookies for Father Christmas and carrots for his reindeers, Tyrone and I were tucked into bed. Because of the difference in our ages, we had different privileges and Roland got to go to bed a bit later. Soon after Tyrone and I were asleep while Roland and Sharon still pottered about and had a snack before they went off to bed. The next morning Tyrone and I woke up to a very strange atmosphere in the house. I can still ‘feel it’ right now thinking about it. There was no excitement, no rush nor encouragement to open our presents, instead the house was quiet and filled with a sense of dread, my mom looked distressed and very sad and my dad looked very worried. We were told that during the night Roland had become very ill and had been rushed to the hospital. We soon discovered that, after having a lumbar puncture, that he had meningitis and not knowing which strain of meningitis it was, our house was placed under quarantine in case it was the viral type. That year Christmas was ‘cancelled’ as no one felt like eating or celebrating and I can’t remember us opening presents either, everyone was just too worried.
That night my brother slipped into a coma, the doctors were not holding out any hope, they told my parents to prepare for the worse, that there was nothing that they could do for him and that it was now ‘up to God’. I cannot remember how long he was in that coma for, but what I do remember very clearly was how it all ended. A man from the church came to our house, his name was Mr Ashworth, I can still remember what he looked like. My dad answered the door and told him that he could not come in as we were under quarantine and it was too risky. Mr Ashworth was insistent, he said that he did not care, that he wanted to come in and pray for Roland. He walked into our lounge, kneeled down in the middle of the room and started to pray, he prayed that God would heal my brother. Before he even finished his prayer with an ‘amen’, the telephone rang which my dad ran to answer. It was the hospital saying that they don’t know what happened but that suddenly my brother woke up, sat up and said ‘where am I?’ To which the nurse replied, ‘you are in the hospital and have been a very sick little boy.’ My brother, bless his little heart said, ‘my daddy told me not to eat that peanut butter sandwich so late at night as it would make me sick’ (he no longer eats peanut butter because of that and the association he attached to it).
The doctors told my parents that they believed a miracle had happened, that they had no way of explaining my brother’s instantaneous healing. My brother had to stay in the hospital for a little while for observation but in no time he was discharged and made a full recovery where he was back to his old self again, playing sport and running around as per normal. In the next blog I will tell you a story about a different kind of miracle, a miracle that involved no prayer and no doctors.
Here is a pic of my brother Roland, such a handsome man!