1st Story

I was born in Johnstown, PA, in 1927.  It wasn’t an ordinary time, given that it was a time of struggle for families to provide the bare necessities of life—food and shelter. It was two years before the Great Depression of 1929, my parents lost their farm, their livelihood and had no place to go; everyone else had the same struggle.  Someone in our parish family offered their cellar as our refuge.  The cellar was one large room with concrete block walls and a cement floor.

My parents had four children, and I was number five, born in that cellar.  Aunt Lucille, Mom’s well-to-do sister, came to visit from New York City.  When she saw the appalling conditions, she went out and rented a second story apartment, bought the furnishings needed and moved my family there.  It was no small miracle.

One miracle I want to share happened in that apartment.  I was nine months old, at the crawling stage, and found my way out onto the porch and fell two stories down onto solid concrete.  An Angel, disguised as an ice man was delivering ice to the market below.  He spotted my unconscious and bruised body beneath the steps, picked me up and submerged me into the ice bin.  It was then that mother appeared to find that her greatest fear had happened, that her baby Liz had fallen.

Mom took me to her bed, lit a blessed candle, and knelt down to plead with God for my life.  Hours had gone by and my Dad got home from work at midnight.  He saw Mom on her knees and his little baby, black and blue with eyes swollen shut and thought surely I was gone.  He knelt down beside my Mom and together they prayed until morning.  By then I had regained consciousness and began to cry.  They too cried, as they thanked and praised God.  They knew God had heard and answered their prayers.

Consequently, there never was a time when I didn’t believe in the healing power of God.  I confess, though, that many years later when I was experiencing tremendous pain in my back, my faith (in my human condition) had weakened.  The pain in my back radiated down my right leg, and it was agonizing to walk.  I lived on pain relievers that gave me only temporary relief.

WCF sponsored a healing service with Fr. Barham as keynote speaker.  He is a great prayer warrior with incredible gifts of discernment and healing.  I hobbled into that service in my boots and quickly sat down in the first chair I found.  As I sat there praying in the Spirit, a peace came over me.  When everyone stood up, I continued to sit, because it was pure agony to stand.  We sang and praised God; then we sang and praised God again using the gift of tongues.

When everyone stopped and it was silent, Father began to speak out the healings that the Lord was doing: tumors shrinking, stomach ulcers healing, emotional wounds healing . . .  Then Father spoke directly to me, “Someone here is suffering with severe pain in the back and down the right leg . . .” I jumped up and claimed that healing!  I walked away from that healing service without realizing the pain was gone.  I continued to favor my right leg and gingerly got into my car.  At home, I got ready for bed and slept through the night without pain.
The next morning, my husband, Emery, said to me, “Honey, you were rolling over last night without lifting your body to turn.”  Wow!  My honey had to point out to me that God had healed me—after experiencing five years of constant pain.  I have shared this miracle with many people.  But when I didn’t share it, Emery would say, “Honey, did you tell them how God healed you in an instant?”  His faith was strengthened along with mine.

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Miracle Stories: June

2nd Story




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