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When Jesus Comes to Visit

One of the most profound whispers that I heard from the Holy Spirit, after a miraculous healing I received, was when He said, “I am going to heal you first before I heal your son.”



I wept.


I grew up believing miracles were possible. I had seen the Lord’s hand so tangibly protect my mom’s life multiple times when she was on the brink of death. Some of my earliest memories revolve around my dad needing to leave for work and my job was to make sure my mom woke up. This taught me early on that waking up and breathing is a precious gift. My mom had type 1 diabetes and her sugars were volatile. She would be fine, and the next moment passed out. One time when I was 8 years old, my mom passed out in a diabetic coma in front of our local Albertsons. Not quite sure what to do as the oldest and in charge of 3 younger siblings, I frantically honked the horn to get someone’s attention. After many people ignored the sound, one man passed by and circled back. He called 911. Red flashes of light along with loud sirens arrived shortly after.


Another time, my mom went low driving us home from school and veered off the side of the road into a ditch, but somehow we never fell in. Terrified, I was praying in the back seat making sure my salvation was secure. My mom miraculously pressed on the gas when she was passing out and pulled over. The only other two people on the road, a woman and her daughter saw the whole thing and drove us home safely. Angels in disguise.


One morning as I was talking to my mom as she laid on the couch, she froze. An unexpected blood clot alerted us to another autoimmune disease, Thrombotic Thrombocytopenic Purpura, also known as TTP. She was taken to Kenneth Norris Cancer Center by helicopter with 10 platelets left in her body, failing kidneys, and no bed available. All the doctors who were trained to perform the catheter procedure she needed done were unavailable. She needed a procedure called plasmapheresis, a process where the plasma is separated from the blood cells to be “cleaned” and then returned into the body. My mom was dying, but just like He always had, God saved her in a miraculous way. Ten minutes before she arrived at the hospital, a bed that was not supposed to be available for another couple weeks, opened up. When she arrived in the elevator, a resident asked what was wrong. The medical team filled him in. He had never performed the procedure she needed, however he had just finished learning about it in a medical journal. He was willing to try to save her life. He did the procedure and it worked. My mom was in critical condition, her kidneys failing, no platelets, and a diabetic. Her body was attacking itself. Jesus came and brought life. She remained in the hospital for many months, but she was alive with a smile on her face and a contagious laugh that could be heard down the hospital hallways. That smile hardly left my mom’s face even though she remained ill for the majority of her life.



I always admired my mom’s devotion to the Lord and her joy. I saw His love for her in a tangible way and it helped me build a foundation of knowing God was real in the midst of extreme heartache and hardship. I believed in miracles. I believed they were possible...Despite my mom’s love for the Lord, her devotion, her faith...disease continued to infect her body. Another two autoimmune diseases were diagnosed. A daily fear of my mom dying crept in, it started to overwhelm me. It opened a door to the enemy. This door opened others and strongholds were formed. My already broken heart started to hold onto the hurt, which then turned into hidden anger disguised as bitterness, even a jealousy of others who seemed to have better and easier lives. Rebellion crept in along with doubt that God would ever fully heal my mom. My senior year of high school became a turning point for me where I decided to walk the dangerous fence of lukewarm Christianity. I believed God was real and I believed He was my Savior, but I was far from a true relationship with Him. I was tired of the “rules” that I was supposed to follow as a Christian, especially as my belief that good things would happen in my life dwindled. I came up with my own set of prescriptions of addiction, promiscuity, and codependency to ease my pain. I thought I could still claim Jesus as my Savior as I walked farther and farther away from Him.




The farther I walked away, the more immersed and lost I became in the world. I feel that it is important to note that I was still among many Christians and I went to church occasionally, however my heart was far from God. I was looking for a tangible love in the world that only God could give me, and in the process I became more and more damaged. When looking for a relationship, I found myself drawn to people who weren't too religious or went to church regularly. There was an underlying fear I would be held accountable for what I was doing, but I still wanted them to believe in God because I knew He was real. Ironic, and full of hypocrisy. At the time, I liked to hide all my pain in alcohol, smoking weed, snorting cocaine, and having sex. I found someone who liked to do the same. This man would become my husband. I met him at a friend’s birthday party. We had a one night stand, after drinking sangria, snorting cocaine in the bathroom, taking a pill of ecstasy he offered, and smoking weed in a weird basement with scooter parts everywhere. Sounds so romantic. He didn’t ask for my number, but bought me a bagel and coffee after we stayed in a hotel across the street. I thought I wouldn’t see him again. But he found me somehow. Where? At another party. I told him I loved him a month later. Six months later, I drank 2 bottles of champagne with my best friend on the way to the bars downtown San Diego. That night I made out with a French guy who looked like my Algerian fiance I had broken up with a month before my one night stand. The next morning I was driven to the train station surrounded in an atmosphere of silent rage and sent back home to my parents by my understandably, furious ex-boyfriend. I didn’t realize at the time, but this was the one of the last times I would spend quality time with my mom before she passed. She just listened to me with a saddened expression on her face… she knew she had thrown enough of her pearls to the swine… her own daughter who was so oppressed by jezebelic demons and who didn’t have ears to hear.


Instead of listening to the advice of my mom and my dad, I begged and cried my way back into a relationship with this man I thought I Ioved. I was going to change, but not for God, for this man. A man who became my idol, my false god. Our toxic romance was rekindled, fueled by control, manipulation, fear, and guilt. I was constantly reminded of my past infidelity and how horrible I was to him. I would make it up to him. I would be the most loyal partner ever. I would do anything he wanted. And that I did. I became even more insecure, broken, guilty, and ashamed of my very existence. I somehow miraculously graduated college in the midst of all this chaos… I got pregnant after celebrating getting my Bachelors degree from Point Loma Nazarene University. My dad told this man if he didn’t marry me in 2 weeks he would make him his enemy, my mom sobbed over Skype, and his mom didn’t want him to marry me. My mom died a couple months later. It was a complete mess. I was a complete mess.





Flash forward to hospitals, doctors, prescriptions, and appointments... a monotonous cycle I didn’t like, but I was accustomed to. When my youngest son, General, was diagnosed with Spinal Muscular Atrophy at 8 months old, I naturally settled back into this not-so-fun routine at an advanced level. I now had multiple machines across my living room floor, oxygen tanks in the closet, and alarms going off every hour. I became a ‘medical mama’ overnight. When my son was diagnosed with the most severe type of Spinal Muscular Atrophy, type 1, I was informed that 95% of children with SMA type 1 did not live past 18 months old. I learned that day that my son might not ever walk, he might not ever talk, he might not even live past 2 years old. I could no longer ignore the God I had seen save someone I loved so many times before, even if she went to heaven early. I needed Him. I desperately needed a miracle. I needed Him to come and save me from this life, a life that felt more like death.


I cried out and He came. It was that simple. After I took that one important step in His direction, my life felt like a whirlwind, everything started changing. A complete turnaround. I started to hear His still quiet voice, a whisper I heard so many times as a little girl. I started dreaming again. He sent people around me to help me and give me accountability. The accountability that I used to fear, but I now desperately desired. He filled me with His Holy Spirit and gave me a new prayer language. He started to give me clues. He told me He loved me and I was beautiful. He delivered me. I literally coughed up demons in my car while my girls were at cheer practice. I started waking up in the middle of the night praying in the Spirit. I saw incredible visions of how God was removing nettles from my heart and wrapping them around the cross. I learned how to dance for my King and started dancing with worship flags. I picked up a guitar I hadn’t played in 15 years and He gave me a song from heaven. I sang in the Spirit which I wasn’t even sure if anyone did, but I just sang for Him. I even learned to how to clean my home, decorate, and do yard work in worship of the Lord. The Holy Spirit led me to get rid of everything I had from my past. He was showing me what He was doing to me on the inside, by letting it manifest on the outside. Chain after chain was being broken. I traded the chains that the devil used to imprison me for the armor of God. I was being trained to fight.


So when He whispered to me, “I am going to heal you before I heal your son,” I felt a depth of His love wash over me that I had never felt before. He loved me too. He saw me too. He didn’t forget about me. He was there for me all the same times He was there for my mom. He wanted to heal me. This whisper was not just an empty promise. It came with miraculous healing of my body. He had already replaced 7 amalgam fillings in my mouth with brand new heavenly silver fillings a few months before. This was my first encounter seeing and experiencing a tangible, creative miracle. And in this heavenly encounter, He healed my spine and grew out my leg. I had fallen down a flight of cement stairs in South Carolina in 2015 which landed me in the hospital during a family trip. He knew and He didn’t forget.



WAIT…. WHAT?! Real miracles!! In MY OWN BODY!


I don’t think I would have believed the types of miracles that happened to me were even possible unless I saw them and felt them myself. I started to realize along this walk Jesus could easily heal any physical ailment I had, however healing my heart and restoring my soul would require a choice from me. He wanted to heal me deeply and completely, not just on the outside but on the inside too. In order for this healing to take place, I needed to say yes to completely dying to myself so He could fully live in me.


His love for me rekindled the child-like faith deep inside my broken heart. He was so patiently waiting at the door, knocking, and I allowed Him back in. He wanted to restore my mind, He wanted to make me feel confident. He wanted me to not fear man, but fear Him instead. He wanted me to be one with Him, spirit, soul, and body. As I became closer with Jesus, my true bridegroom, my marriage became worse. The narcissistic abuse that had always been a part of my life, even growing up, was now visible to me. And it became worse.


In November 2019, I made the incredibly hard decision of leaving my marriage. I was left with the task of moving out of our shared apartment with all of our kids, alone with no keys to our family van. I did not have the support of most of my family, thankfully my cousin and my sister helped me get a hotel room for a night as I had spent the rest of my money getting a key made for the van so I could move. I was also so incredibly thankful to have my friend and her family along my side for this part of my journey. The next day, a door opened at a confidential women’s DV shelter at the busiest time of year. I moved into a little studio with my 3 kids and all of our medical equipment, waiting on the Lord, knowing He wouldn’t lead me here without providing for me.




A day after Christmas, more miracles occurred. I was accepted into an Oceanside apartment priced at $1675, with only $1,475 provable income. A rapid-rehousing program covered my entire rent for the first few months and continued to help as I navigated my way through the unknown. I was so excited and overwhelmed with God’s goodness and even my address of ‘555’ humbly acknowledged His grace. Little did I know, this would be my garden of Gethsemane and God would use this apartment to show me where I was spiritually and how He was healing me.


The outside of the apartment looked decent and came with a huge backyard and a fruit tree that was an answer to prayer. I soon realized that there were many details I had missed. To start, there was broken glass hidden in the carpet and the apartment was filthy. The landlord seemed so surprised, yet didn’t send help. I was so happy to have a home, I didn’t worry too much about it and I started cleaning the best I could. It wasn’t until a few days later that I smelled something horrible and disgusting coming from my kitchen. Every time I passed by the sink I was revolted at the smell. I reluctantly peeked in the cupboards under the sink. The smell was worse. There were two holes in the back of the cupboard. I was terrified to know what was in that deep, dark cavern. In scavenger hunts before, the Holy Spirit started off by showing me the nettles in my yard, my outside environment, the people I was hanging out with and the worldly activities I was participating in. Then He showed me my foundation and the importance of being secured in the Rock of Jesus Christ. And in this one, it seemed He was showing me the inside of my temple. Apparently, there were a lot of ugly and gross things hidden inside that I was not aware of. And the Lord knew I was ready for some deeper revelation of what was hidden in the deep, dark secret rooms of my heart.




With gloves and a mask on I started to tear down the wall on the side of the cabinet... a prophetic picture of the wall I had built in my heart to protect it. The smell was the most revolting smell, the smell of rotting flesh. It took me the rest of the night to tear out the front boards of the cabinet and discover that there was a huge rat's nest under both sides of my kitchen cabinets along with five dead mice. Underneath the laminate floor, I found leftovers of a cockroach infestation, some alive, some dead and some egg sacs ready to hatch if I hadn't made their discovery. Even though I called the landlord, no help was given. This was work I had to do alone. I scrubbed every wall, floor to ceiling. Over the next year, with each deep clean and every repair the Holy Spirit spoke to me about a room in my heart I was allowing Him to clean. Through dreams, memories, scriptures, sermons, He started revealing the lies I believed about myself. Through Christian trauma counseling I discovered that my personality wasn’t even my own, rather a combination of trauma responses and reactions to triggers. After seeing different health practitioners, I learned my body was in overdrive from being in flight or fight mode for years. My hair started falling out in clumps over the next few months, another physical response to trauma. This was not what I expected when the Holy Spirit said He was going to heal me, but this part of the healing process was necessary. I allowed God to clean out the ugly disgusting places of my heart and I learned that He loved me right in the middle of what felt like a horribly embarrassing and painful process.


This place, as much work as it took to clean, was a place where I felt safe. God started to teach me who I really was. I had become so numb from all the heartache, the rejection, and the recurring trauma starting from childhood that it was hard to figure out how to feel and process.

I learned to cope with complex trauma by suppressing raw and real emotions. Once I learned what emotions I was suppressing, I learned how to acknowledge them. Once I acknowledged them I could be real and authentic with Jesus and let Him take the burden I was carrying. This process of coming to Him as my true self, allowed Him to restore my soul.


Once we did some deep cleaning, Jesus told me He was coming to visit. Then a couple weeks later, someone at church prayed over me and said, “Jesus said He is coming to visit you, and He is so excited! He has been waiting to come!” I do know that the Holy Spirit lives inside of me, however this encounter with Jesus was different than what I had ever experienced. A few weeks before this holy visitation, I heard the Holy Spirit say, "Breathe Me in until you feel My Joy pulsing through your veins." I did and I felt a new sense of His Presence. This sweet exuberant presence overtook me a few weeks later, not for a moment or an hour, but for an entire 3 days I felt this incredible joy I had never felt before. I had this amazing ability to accomplish everything I set my mind to do. I couldn’t contain it. It was surreal!!! I had my first vision of Jesus' face. And then the last day, I heard the words in my spirit, “He came. It was Him.” That feeling I felt...the dripping oil of gladness within every part of me, the feeling that every room in my temple was being filled with heavenly treasure, it was Jesus. He came to visit. He brought me gifts: Joy, wisdom, a parable, a sign, a miracle, a wonder-- all within my soul.




When Jesus came to His people after He had been baptized and filled with the Holy Spirit after spending 40 days in the wilderness, He shared the Word of God unlike anyone had before. He made demons flee, He walked in miracles, signs, and wonders. He encompassed a new authentic pure love that people had never felt before. He carried a new boldness, a new authority. He carried the Glory of God. As I continue to let God heal me, the more I am able to see, feel, and carry His Glory. He is making me more like Him. He is replacing lies with truth. His Presence within me makes demons flee. He is teaching me to love like Him. He is giving me new boldness and authority and He is teaching me to share His gospel in a way people may have not heard before. This is my testimony of how God is healing me first before He heals my son.




"Faith opened Noah’s heart to receive revelation and warnings from God about what was coming, even things that had never been seen. But he stepped out in reverent obedience to God and built an ark that would save him and his family. By his faith the world was condemned, but Noah received God’s gift of righteousness that comes by believing."

Hebrews 11:7

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