18 Months old with AML leukemia.
Printed with permission
Hello, My name is Dave; I live in Maryland in the USA. 20 years ago I
began to write down the profound experience that I had which I believe
God used to lead me to His son, Christ Jesus, and to accept His work
on Calvary as the substitute for my debt.
I was raised Catholic, and attended church regularly as a child, so I
did learn some matters concerning Jesus in my youth. However, I never
felt drawn to accept the Word of God as true. In 1991, my second son,
Greg, who was only 18 months old, was diagnosed with AML leukemia. I
was crushed, because I feared for his death, and wanted to be able to
love him for my entire life.
In this condition, God led me to read the Bible. For the first time,
I began to read the Gospel of Matthew, without doubting its authority.
I was filled with awe and the plight I was in, regarding my son’s
illness, was lightened in great measure, because I came to believe
that both my son and I would one day be together in the hereafter,
because of what Christ did on Calvary. His Gospels clearly pointed to
faith in Him alone as the path to be on. The Word was hard for me to
always understand, but when I chose to accept it as true, and not
doubt it, I was given understanding. Eventually, I accepted Christ as
my savior, after completing an assessment of my self worth, which
would always leave my wanting for merit to attain salvation.
My son endured two bone marrow transplants. After the second one, in
October of 1992, it appeared not to work. The doctors were 95% certain
that he would die from his disease, shortly. I brought him home. He
was only 2 1/2 years old. I put him on the couch in our family room.
He was, indeed, very ill. His gums were bleeding, his skin was tallow
and the whites of his eyes were yellow and bloodshot. He appeared near
death, indeed. He stared at the ceiling in our family room, which was
a plain white ceiling and said, “Not go home right now; I stay. See
the candles?” It was around Christmas time, so we thought he was
referring to the candles in the windows out front. He said, “No, see
the candles?” as he pointed to our ceiling. This happened over a
weekend, and the doctors asked us, if he survived the weekend, to
bring him back to the hospital where they would do a bone-marrow
aspirate to confirm what they expected, namely, that his platelet
cancer had fully metastasized. We brought him back to the hospital
that Monday. They did the test. To everyone’s great surprise, they
found no cancer in him at all, and his vital signs and blood counts
all indicated that he was well on his way to recovery. We were all
I turned to the Bible, as I was confused as to why the world experts
told us our child was about to die from cancer, and then days later,
he seemed to make a miraculous recovery. I began reading Revelations
for the first time. I got to Revelation 1:20 and gasped . . . John the
Apostle had a vision of heaven, which indwelt the cosmic Christ, who
walked among the candlesticks in heaven which corresponded to churches
here on Earth. Remember Greg’s comments? He was dying. He said “I not
go home right now; I stay. See the candles?” He saw heaven as it
really exists, called it home, and was somehow spared for a time from
going to the place he was caused to call home.
Greg lived another nine months, until his cancer once again
metastasized and ended his life on September 12, 1993. However, as his
mother and I provided his home-based hospice, we were regaled with
further astounding events. Before Greg died, he went into a coma. Just
before he passed, he came out of his coma. He looked at us through
far-away eyes, and said, “Everything is green” (see Revelation 4:3 ).
He said, “The men are here now; I have to go. I love you Mom, I love
you, Dad.” He closed his eyes, never to reopen them. Several days
later, his heart stopped, and he was pronounced dead by the
home-health nurse. The pain I felt at that moment, in spite of my
faith, was excruciating. It was as if my healthy, happy 3 1/2 year old
was just hit by a car and killed. As I carried his cold,
heavy-in-my-arms body out to the funeral director’s van, and handed
the shell of my son to the director, I realized why my pain was so
great. I realized that I could never be his father again.
My solace, though, was in believing that he now had a much greater
father than I could ever hope to be. A heavenly and eternal father.