Sometimes God Speaks Through Comas and Ice Crystals

I wanted to run and shout. Quantum physics had once again proven God’s truth. The ice crystals before me were exponentially different. One group looked like those we see on windowpanes and in snowflakes—the other like spiraling cathedrals—huge and intricate—breathtaking. The difference? The first group grew ignored, in silence. The other had words of affirmation and encouragement spoken over them daily. Words changed what they became. Our words hold the power to change things, they have creative power we cannot fathom.

In 1991 I worked in a nursing home planning recreation.  As I reviewed charts I picked up Dee’s. A tragic story unfolded. Dee was a woman struggling with rejection. Abandoned as a child, she suffered from emotional wounds daily as an adult. When she became engaged things seemed to be looking up, but a week before the wedding, her fiancé ended their relationship. It was the final straw. Dee took an overdose in an unsuccessful suicide attempt. She went home, but as Christmas approached the pain was too great, and Dee again tried to end her life. This time she was left with irreversible brain damage. Placed in this nursing home, she had remained—unresponsive and comatose—with ‘no meaningful cognitive activity’.

Any other day I’d have laid her chart aside because we didn’t provide activity for residents in comas. Science said that these women had no “meaningful cognitive activity.” But this day was different. My heart skipped a beat when I heard His voice, Read it. His invitation was irresistible.

Closing her chart, I was taken aback by a still small voice inside, I want to heal her, I felt Him say. The thought terrified me.

You want me to lay hands on her and heal her?  My soul asked.

I want to heal her, He gently prompted me. Just love her for Me.

As I handed the chart to the nurses a thought ran through my mind. One of the things that bothered me when I first saw Dee was her oily hair. “Could I wash Dee’s hair?” I asked.

“Why?” the nurse huffed.

The next day we did just that. “I know that feels better.” I beamed. I don’t know what I expected, but Dee’s eyes showed no response, merely darting meaninglessly around the room. I was disappointed. God had told me to love her, but what was the point if she wasn’t there?

The following day I visited Dee’s room with bright posters and balloons.  I fastened posters above her bed so her roving eyes had something to catch during her awake times.  Dee did nothing to indicate that she knew I was there. “Dee,’’ I whispered. ‘’These are for you. God loves you so much.’’

‘’You’re wasting your time.” The nurses disgust came back to haunt me.

Love her for me, repeated the gentle voice inside.

On Monday I returned with lotion and chatted as I massaged her flaking skin. I was growing more accustomed to the offensive smells that come from a dormant body. “Dee,” I whispered. “God loves you. He hasn’t forgotten you.”

I visited Dee each day bringing music, plants, and conversation. She never acknowledged my presence. There was eye movement, but I was told it was non-meaningful. I was beginning to wonder if I had even heard from God.

One evening, a voice in my heart interrupted my routine. Tell her I know why she did it.

What God?

Tell her I forgive her, that I love her. Lead her to Me.

My heart struggled to find its voice.  “Dee, God knows why you tried to kill yourself. He forgives you.” Gooseflesh popped up on my arms.  Was my mind playing tricks or did her eyes roam to my side of the room? My voice cracked, “ He saw you then. He sees you now. God loves you. He sent His son to earth to die in your place. He was rejected too. He understands.” Her eyes had not moved from my side of the room. I held my breath and took her hand. “You can be free. Just ask Him to forgive you, to come into your heart.”

Friends, what happened next is true. It was one of the greatest privileges of my life. Dee’s fingers tightened ever so slightly around my hand. The nurses would have called it involuntary muscle movement, but the electricity in the air spoke to something far more wonderful.

Sing to her. The Spirit whispered to my heart.

Sing?

Trust Me. Sing.

“Can I sing a song?” I asked. Her eyes darted to my face and held my eyes for a moment. I could barely breath. “Oh, how He loves you and me—He gave his life.” I sang. “Let Him in, Dee. He wants to heal you.” I prayed quietly after the songs. When I looked up her eyes had left my side of the bed, but a tear slipped down her cheek. One of those random tears, I am sure. You could feel the love of God in her room as thick as honey.

The next morning as I entered the nursing home, a coworker met me. “I’m so sorry,” she said. “Dee died last night.”

My heart squeezed, but not with sadness. The King had told me He wanted to heal her. I knew exactly what had happened. No random mistake here. The Lord had reached out to a wounded, abandoned woman and healed her heart. Then quietly, in the middle of the night, he took her home where He gave her a new body and a new life. I am sure the fatted calf roasted on a spit in the kingdom that morning, where Dee danced and bowed before the One who sought her and set her free.

Words are powerful, my friends. If words of kindness cause innate freezing water to form snowflake masterpieces—our words spoken at His bidding carry His power to change lives.

Let us dare to speak to ice crystals and comas and see what our Lord can do!