God is the Author of Our First and Last Breath (SWC)

Two years ago, you lay dying in Cauayan Medical Specialist Hospital, and I rushed to your bedside from Hong Kong.

Along the way, memories of how you took care of me as a little girl came flooding back. How you wove baskets of straw to sell in the market, when I had no money for school. How you made sure every Christmas overflowed with joy. My brother and I never realized how poor we really were growing up -- because we were so rich in love.

My heart broke as I saw you lying unconscious, and fighting for every breath. I leaned over and whispered in your ear: “Tata, it’s Maricon, I know you can hear me. Pray with me by repeating my words in your mind.” It was a very short prayer for healing, maybe 3 minutes or even less. Then I had to go, because others were waiting to see you. And the Intensive Care Unit allowed only one visitor at a time.

Tata Anung(Grandpa) and Mama Consarat

Your next visitor was Mama Consarat. She flew back all the way from Kuwait when she heard you were sick. So of course, she was very eager to be at your bedside. But she stayed only a minute before rushing back outside. That's because she was startled to see you suddenly wide-awake and alert. And even more startled to hear you say in a clear, strong voice: “Got any food? I'm hungry.”

So, we brought you congee. A few hours later, the doctor discharged you from ICU, and moved you to a standard hospital room because he considered you were now out of danger. He was not the only one surprised by your sudden recovery. I grew up in the Roman Catholic Church, and this was hardly the first time I prayed to God. But it was the first time I ever saw Him deliver such quick and dramatic results.

Glory to the King of kings! Thank You Lord, for being the God who heals and answers prayers.

The next few days were a whirlwind. Your children, grandchildren, siblings, and extended family crowded into your room, singing your favorite Ilocano songs. They played worship music, remembered good times together, and said how much they loved you.

It was an amazing thing to witness. Love and peace flowing like a river.

I thought you were already healed, and expected you to be discharged from the hospital soon. But I was wrong. You had a devastating setback. Antibiotic-resistant pneumonia struck, and your lungs started filling up with phlegm. The doctor put you on oxygen, and tried to move you back into Intensive Care. But this time you refused, saying: "I'm so tired. I just want to die at home," and then lapsed into unconsciousness.

With heavy hearts, we prepared to honor your wishes. The doctor gave me your oxygen tank to take along, because he said it was the only thing still keeping you breathing. I asked if I could take an extra oxygen tank along for when this one was empty and had to be refilled. But the doctor said no. He was quite sure you wouldn’t live long enough to ever need more than one tank of oxygen.

While the hospital was processing your discharge, we joined in reading Psalm 23 over you: “The Lord is my shepherd I shall not want ...”

Next came a long, two-hour drive in an old, worn-out ambulance with a half-broken muffler. Inside, it didn’t even have a hook to hang your IV bottles on. So I had to manually hold them up the whole way. About half-way home, my faith started to falter. You look so pale and still. In the back of my mind, I heard a silky voice whisper: "Dozens of people have died already in this ambulance. Your grandfather is gonna be the next. And there's not a damn thing you can do about it!"

So, I leaned over, and whispered in your ear: “Tata, call on the name of Jesus. Follow His light. He alone can lead you to the Father.” You didn’t respond, but I saw tears in your eyes. We got home late at night, put you in your bed, and the vigil began.

Early the next morning, Amma Jonel came over. He went straight to your side, put his hand on your head, and prayed:

"Almighty Father, You are a God of miracles. I speak healing and restoration over Tata Anung. In the name of Jesus, I command sickness to be gone, and strength to come back into your bones."

I almost couldn’t believe what happened next. You opened your eyes. You sat up and looked around. And said: "Is there no food in this house? I'm starving.” I gave you a glass of milk. Then bananas. Then rice with mongo beans -- which I tried to feed you with a spoon. But you said: “I can do it myself. Give me the spoon.”

After that, you pulled the oxygen tube out of your nose and the IVs out of your arm.

So in the end, the doctor was right after all. You never needed a second oxygen tank. But not for the reason he thought.
The whole household woke up astonished that morning. None more so, than visitors from the village. They came to say goodbye to a dying man, only to find you wide awake, sitting up, eating, and talking like a normal person.

First chance I got, I asked you what you experienced. You said: “Jesus healed my body like a seamstress repairing a hole in an old worn-out shirt.”

Glory Alleluia. We serve an awesome God.

Tata Anung on the back of a motorbike driven by Amma Jonel(My Father)

After this, the Lord blessed you with seven more healthy months of life. And you shared your testimony of what the Lord did for you with many other people. Then, after pulling you back from the edge of death, not once but twice, the Lord finally called you home for good. You're now in heaven, praising, and rejoicing with the angels.

I love you, Tata. Someday, I know we’ll meet again.