Testimonies of a Good God

I

was born in South Africa to amazing parents. I was the middle child, having an older brother and a younger sister. Growing up we went to church, but for me at least there was no relationship with God. Most Sundays I would pretend to sleep in as long as possible so that I did not have to go to Sunday school. One of the few memories I have of church back then is that the pastor spoke about hearing God talk to him. At the time, I remember thinking, "God doesn't still talk to people."

Our lives as young children were fairly normal I suppose. We were a middle-class family with only my Dad working, and at times, there was "more month than money." Our home environment was good, nonetheless, and both my parents loved us very much. Life however, was about to change.

When I was twelve my sister Lynda began to suffer from very frequent migraines and headaches. She was eight years old at the time and after a few doctor appointments, as well as couple of weeks of constant headaches, they decided to investigate further.

About a week later, my parents said we were going away for the weekend to the beach. That Saturday morning, my mother and sister stayed at the accommodation, and my Dad, brother and I went down to the beach.

My Dad sat us down and said he needed to tell us something. He said the doctors had done various tests and discovered that my sister had a brain tumour. It was really big, and the doctors needed to operate as soon as possible. They had scheduled her for an operation the next week. The operation would take six or seven hours and she had roughly a 30% chance of survival.

How are you supposed to respond to news like that? At the time, all I could think about was how selfish I had been with my sister, how I always made her sit in the middle seat of the car and that now she may be dying. It's funny what goes through your mind when you are in shock. My brother and I both said we understood, but who at any age can really comprehend that kind of news?

The next week we were introduced to her doctor, and he said that he would do his best.

My sister was very calm. She had believed in Jesus since she was a little child; she would never let my Mom or Dad put her to sleep unless they first prayed with her and asked Jesus to look after her.

As I recall, she went in for the operation on a Saturday. To be honest, I don't remember a lot of the day, I only remember wondering if she would die and then my parents telling us that she had pulled through. The doctors had removed as much of the tumour as possible but were concerned that if they removed all of it she would be left with permanent brain damage.

She spent a long time in the hospital and when she was released, she and my Mom moved into accommodations at the hospital in Durban, where she was receiving radiation. My Dad, brother and I stayed in Pietermaritzburg, about 60 miles from Durban, where he worked and where we went to school. But we spent the weekends with my Mom and sister in the flat in Durban.

The radiotherapy had many side effects which left my sister feeling extremely unwell. It also affected her walking and due to the cortisone treatments it caused her to retain a lot of water and she got really big. This period of time was very difficult for Lynda and my parents. Unfortunately, people can be very insensitive. Lynda was often stared at because she was large and had lost her hair due to treatment.

Despite this the radiation seemed to work, and for the next year or so things seemed to be fairly smooth. However, my sister then started experiencing a lot of complications and ended up in the hospital for many weeks. During this time she had another operation to insert shunts that would release the pressure on her brain.

After she was released, she went back home and life carried on as normal for a few months, or as normal as it could be in that situation. Looking back now, it must have taken an immense toll on my parents, but my brother and I never really saw it, as they both always put on a brave face for us.

Around two years after finding out she had cancer, Lynda began sleeping more and more. Then one day she began to have seizures. An ambulance was called and she was rushed to hospital. At the time her doctor was away on holiday, and the only other neurosurgeon in Pietermaritzburg was covering his patients. The new doctor did some tests and spoke to my parents and asked them what her doctor had told them. They said her doctor told them, considering what she had been through, she was doing okay.

The new doctor looked at my parents and said he was very sorry, but the brain tumour had grown substantially. There was nothing he could do. She was dying and would not leave the hospital alive. He didn't know how long she had, but he was certain she would die.

Nothing can prepare you for that. I suppose you just go numb. You never really think about death, or at least I didn't at the time. It can just sneak up on you.

We spent the next two days by her side 24-7 and some of our family members from around the country started to come to say goodbye. Through all of this, I don't remember my sister Lynda ever being angry, cursing God or losing faith in Him. If anything, I remember her still praying and asking Jesus to look after and protect her, as well as us.

On the second day, my brother and I had just returned home to get some rest. My Dad arrived shortly afterwards crying. He told us my sister had just passed away in my mother's arms.

We all hugged in disbelief. He then took us to the hospital so we could see Lynda and say goodbye. We lived literally across the road from the hospital, and 10 minutes later we were in her room.

I remember walking into the room and seeing my Mom still holding her. Lynda's body was there, but she had left. My Mom put her down, and we all sat in the room and cried. I remember a nurse came in to prepare the body to take to the mortuary. My Mom was furious and told her we hadn't even said goodbye yet.

The next few days were a bit of a blur, and about a week later we had the funeral. At that time, I didn't believe in Jesus or that a good God could ever let something like this happen. We had even taken Lynda to a healing meeting at a church, and they had anointed her with oil, prayed for her, and she still died. I was angry towards God.

At Lynda's funeral there were so many people that there wasn't enough room in the church. The only thing I remember clearly of that day was that we sang the hymn "The Lord is my Shepherd." To this day when I hear this song, I think of Lynda.

The next few months and years were very difficult on our whole family, especially on my parents. I think we were all disillusioned with life and didn't really know what to do or where to turn. My parents decided they could not live in Pietermaritzburg anymore as it brought back too many memories of Lynda. They decided we would move to Hillcrest, just outside Durban.

Losing their daughter was very difficult for my parents and only now being a parent myself can I begin to imagine what it must have been like for them. In the next few years that followed, we all just moved on, or tried to.

I really enjoyed school, excelled in swimming and spent most of my spare time in swimming training. I remember having a few Christian friends at school, but to be honest they really irritated me because I did not believe in this God they were telling me about. After all, why did He kill my sister and destroy my family?

My first year out of school, I worked for a transport company based in Durban. My role was to drive down to the port and make sure the company's trucks had the right documentation and were loaded correctly so they could be released from the port.

A few months into the job, I was driving in the car, and my vision disappeared. I couldn't see. I felt extremely dizzy and my vision began to blur in and out. I managed to pull over on the side of the road. By this time, I was getting really scared, and I thought perhaps I had been drugged. I had one of those original mobile phones that had a speed dial on it. I called the office and told them what was happening. They weren't sure what to do, but they called my brother and got him to come and pick me up.

My brother came and took me straight to the doctor. He examined me and said I needed to go to the hospital for observation. At the hospital they did some tests. At this stage I could now see again, but was still very dizzy.

The tests came back and showed nothing wrong. The doctors said I needed to go for a CAT (CT) scan to see what was going on in my brain. Fear gripped me. I was nineteen years old, and I wasn't ready to die. Did I also have a brain tumour like my sister?

They took me up to have the CAT scan and when I got there, one of the Christian girls I went to school with was working there, and she said she would pray that God would protect me.

The scan came back clear. I had never been so relieved in all my life! I was released from hospital a day or two later but still with constant dizziness.

The doctor said that there obviously was something wrong, but I would have to wait it out. That didn't help my nerves, because I...