Seized By God

By Jeannette Balluff

 

"A man in the crowd answered, "Teacher, I brought you my son, who is possessed by a spirit that has robbed him of speech. Whenever it seizes him, it throws him to the ground. He foams at the mouth, grinds his teeth and becomes rigid."

 

This is the anxious statement of a father, concerned for his son, half-believing that this Teacher may be able to provide the solution that will release his son from this mysterious prison. If we read further into the account, related to us by St. Mark in his gospel we find that the Teacher, who is Jesus, does have the solution. Even the partial unbelief of the father does not limit the grace of the Lord. The boy is freed from his prison. NO longer prone to seizures, mysterious in nature, he is seized by God, transformed and given Life. The touch of Jesus as always, brings forth a resurrection power from within the human organism. The Word who became flesh again becomes flesh within another and will continue to do so until the end of time. This is no obsolete fairy tale. The same touch from the Living Word Incarnate brings Life to those imprisoned by the mysterious force that causes epilepsy to this day.

 

I speak as one who has experienced this touch.

Existing in the dark world of fears and seizures for fifteen years, I can sympathize with the more than four million known epileptics in this country today.

 

Scientific knowledge has thrown some light on the problem. By the grace of God, men of untiring zeal, such as Dr. Tracey Putnam, have worked feverishly to bring about the first real break-through for the control of seizures. In his experiments in 1939 Dr. Putnam induced seizures into rabbits, then injecting them with various chemical compounds, he came upon the first anti-convulsant to ever control seizures, diphenyl-hydantion, (known to many as dilantin). Since that time many derivatives have been developed. However, no one has been able to determine why this particular compound brings about control. My own interpretation is that it is by the grace of God. God does care for the epileptic. If the afflicted do not come to Him directly, at least the Lord will provide a mean of grace.

 

We have also learned from the research of many that seizures are symptoms of some underlying cause. There are many causes, some symptomatic, some idiopathic. Those symptomatic in nature can often be treated medically or surgically. Those idiopathic in nature are far more difficult to treat and are often uncontrollable despite large doses of medication. The causes are manifold, anywhere from hypoglycemia to scar tissue on the brain. Therefore, there is no one specific method for treatment. However, the seizure itself is in no way as harmful as the stigma that too often accompanies it. This is what I refer to as the demonic force. It mysteriously convinces the victim, very often through the indifferent and apathetic, as well as the victim himself, that he is less than human. As this force gains increasingly more ground the victim is conditioned to a feeling of unworthiness. He is soon faced with the attitude that life for him is not worth living. Hopelessness overcomes his inner self. He is convinced that it is better to die than to continue in this state of depression, anxiety and fear. The seizures are now a way out, a temporary relief from a world in which he can have no part socially or otherwise, for society has stamped him with the label - REJECT. Similar to the production line, where quality control determines what is fit for the market, society has determined by its own type of quality control that the epileptic is unfit for the job market. As if second-rate citizenship is not demeaning enough, he must also join the many who find themselves on the welfare rolls. He wants to be self-sufficient, frustration sets in and seizures increase. It is a vicious cycle, anxiety, fear, depression -- seizure -- depression, fear, anxiety, etc.

 

This was the story of my life until I received the touch of Jesus. Living in this world of insecurity and fear I attempted to find the security I needed in a home and family. I married very young. The young man I married was kind to me and he loved me in spite of the seizures. But the years took their toll on him and he too found that he could not cope with the insecurity. He worried about me, having to be away much of the time. He found that he had no answers either.

 

Despite the admonition of a well-meaning neighbor who told me that I had no right to be married or to have children, I had had three children by the time I reached my 28th birthday. Contrary to the theories of many in that day, the children were beautiful and they were healthy. They were not even foaming at the mouth. Praise the Lord!

 

Nevertheless, I could not go on. Fear welled up within me. How could I possibly raise these children adequately? I cried to God one day as I was in the basement doing the family wash. Ironically, in the basement of my home I cried from the basement of my soul, "God help me, I cannot help myself!"

 

Minutes later I heard the telephone ring -- loud and clear. Do you know - God answered my call immediately! Frances Gardner Hunter was so right when she said we have a "hot line to Heaven." I rang and He answered.

 

The party on the line was a girl named Gloria. Gloria had been trying to convince me that I should attend the Bible classes in her home. This was in a day when Bible classes were unheard of, especially in private homes. After all I did attend a very sophisticated Episcopal church in downtown Albany, with Queen Anne Silver, St. Gauden's altar, and all the pomp and ceremony to awaken any god - if He was there. I told her there really wasn't anything she could do to help me. I hung up. But Gloria was not one to give up easily. It was only a matter of minutes when she called again. She insisted that I go into Albany that evening to see a Mrs. Traver, a doctor's wife. She assured me that this woman could help me. Besides she was a very busy woman and I should not keep her waiting, for she was staying home tonight just to meet me. How obligated I felt! I promised that I would go in but only if my children went to bed early and only if my husband decided to go to bed early. (He was on a 12 to 8 shift and often retired after dinner). Do you know - my children went to bed early? But that was not all. My husband decided he too would retire immediately after dinner. I really had no choice. I had no excuse not to go. Besides it seemed that an irresistible force was driving me. I could not refuse to heed this force.

 

When I arrived at this beautiful old brownstone house across from Washington Park I anticipated all sorts of things. I think the fact that this woman was a doctor's wife prompted me to ring the doorbell. Who knows, I thought to myself, she may know of a new medication that will help me.

 

A very beautiful woman answered the door. Her hair was white. She was well dressed and she had a radiancy I had never beheld in anyone before. I loved her immediately. She was everything I had dreamed, in a young girl's dream, of being. She was beautiful, well poised and well educated. She was everything I was not.

 

She took me to her library on the second floor. The home was elaborate. I felt as if I had stepped into a queen's palace. In a sense I was to find that I had, because this very lovely woman would always be a queen to me from that day forth.

 

As we entered the library and were seated she said, "Well, dearie, what can I do for you?"

 

Didn't she know why I had come? I told her that I had seizures. I could not go on. I did not feel I could be the mother to my children that they needed and furthermore, I was told that she could help me.

 

"Dearie," she replied, "I cannot help you but someone already has."

I thought to myself, what is she talking about? Who has ever helped me? Whatever helped me? Whatever did I get myself into?

 

"Yes," she went on, "You could not reach God so God had to come to you and He came in the Person of Jesus Christ. He took your burden of epilepsy on the cross with Him."

 

"Do you mean that Jesus was God?" I replied.

I had attended church all of my life but I never realized this.

"But," I said, "how could something done almost 2000 years ago do me any good today?"

 

She then explained that it was as if she had put money in the bank in my name. It really would do me no good unless I claimed it.

 

Suddenly-- the lights were on! Something happened within me. I cannot explain it - who can? It is one of the great mysteries. I had entered another dimension - the kingdom of God. How new I felt. It was as if I had been born for a second time. Yes, I was born again that night -- but -- "Oh, no," I cried, "I am not good enough." Then she opened the scriptures to me and showed me the words of Paul to the Romans. "God is no respecter of persons."

 

I believed! There was no doubt in my mind. Yes, God loved the epileptic! The Lord touched me. The Christ of Faith had quickened my mortal body and I arose. I threw off the grave clothes, the fears, the anxieties, and the sense of worthlessness. No matter what others thought - I was now a child of God. He loved me. Did it really matter if anyone else loved me?

 

I went out of that house singing. I was a new person! Wouldn't my husband be happy to meet the new me! I was so new that he did not know me. He felt threatened. My new life began but it was to be lived on a turbulent sea. There were giants in my land but the giant of epilepsy was defeated.

 

Another giant was awakened in my land as a result of my conversation. I was so happy now, a really new person. Surely, I thought, my husband will be happy, too. I did not realize that often people have a need to be needed and my husband was threatened by the possibility that I might no longer need him, which certainly was not true. Soon his fears and frustrations were manifested in anger and hostility. He refused to participate in anything that was not Episcopalian. For that matter, up until this time, he found little or no time to attend the Episcopal Church in which we had our membership. Since we had long since moved from the vicinity of this particular church, I decided to attend the Episcopal Church in our community. I found the Lord could work through me there as well as anywhere else. I was so amazed at the reply of the pastor, the day I asked if I might teach Sunday School. "What," he said in amazement, "you're volunteering to teach Sunday School? Why, no one ever volunteers here!" He was glad to have me and I felt so privileged to do it. I was given a class of fifth grade girls. It was a delightful experience, since two of the girls died before reaching age twenty. I knew they were with our Lord, and I was able to share this with their parents.

 

In time my husband began to attend church again on a regular basis. He could not understand my zeal, however, for the Lord. He had never known a Lord beyond the sacramental altar. Nor could he understand anyone who read the Bible. The Book of Common Prayer, yes, but the Bible -- never. Only fanatics and Baptists read the Bible. Nevertheless, he could not deny the change in me, nor the love of life I now had. As the word became flesh in me I was able to see beyond the momentary cross I had to bear. I knew that my husband, too, would come to know the Lord. I just had to wait, to love him and in time, the Lord's time, which was eight years later, he experienced the new birth.

 

A few years after I met my Lord, He opened the door for me, along with Marilyn, an epileptic girl, and Alice, the mother of an epileptic boy, to begin a work we called the Epilepsy League of the Tri-Cities.

 

I met Marilyn in June 1960. It was the end of the school year and I was scheduled for brain surgery. The neurosurgeon, whom I had been seeing, confirmed that my seizures were a result of an aneurysm on the right frontal lobe of the brain. I had had an angiogram and pneumoencephalagram in 1955 when this was discovered but he was reluctant to operate at this time. Five years later, after I had had prayers for healing at my new found church, I experienced a bad seizure. The doctor felt surgery was necessary. I was scheduled to enter the hospital the last week in June. On Friday afternoon, a week before the scheduled admission, at 4:45 p.m., I received a call from the doctor. There was a bed available for me. Would I consider going in a week earlier?

 

The time had come. Was I willing to be healed? I had had prayers for healing, laying on of hands, anointing with oil. It seemed to me that the Lord was saying, "Do you really mean business?" I said "Yes" and entered the Albany Medical Center Hospital a week earlier than scheduled.

 

When I arrived at the hospital I was ushered into a four bed ward. I had requested a semi-private room, however, I was assured that one would be available to me in a day or two. There were three woman in the room besides myself. I met two of the women but the third woman, a young girl, was still anesthetized. I asked the woman to my left what was wrong with the young girl. The woman's son, who was visiting her, said, without thought or hesitation, "O, she has fits!" I knew why I was there.

 

The following day I introduced myself to Marilyn. She did not tell me she was an epileptic but I knew, in time, that she would. I confessed to her the fact that I had epilepsy and I told her of the wonderful change that had come into my life since I met Jesus. Before the week was over she told me that she too had seizures all her life. She felt badly that there were organizations for everything but no one was doing anything to help epileptics. I told her that I had tried for a long time to meet people who had the problem by selling Advent calendars for the National Epilepsy League in Chicago but I had reached the conclusion that I was the only epileptic in the Capitol District.

 

"Well," she replied, "now you've met me. Let's do something about it!"

I told her I would have to pray about it because I did not know if it was the Lord's will for me.

 

I was discharged from the hospital the end of that week. The doctor told me that for some reason what was there before was no longer there. There would be no surgery. I left the hospital with the promise from Marilyn that she would keep in touch.

 

When I arrived home I was told that a woman had called me while I was in the hospital, and she desperately needed to talk to me. She had a son who was both epileptic and retarded and she had heard about me through a mutual friend. I called Alice. I told her of my experience in the hospital and the coincidence of meeting Marilyn (or was it a coincidence)? She, too, was eager to do something to help other epileptics.

 

After much prayer, I found the doors opening for a work to begin. The way it all happened it was much too obvious to be other than the Lord's will.

We had a meeting place offered to us, a neurologist offered to be the speaker at our first meeting and a young lawyer who later became a New York State Congressman offered his services, with the reply, "I'll be glad to help, Mrs. Balluff. I had epilepsy too, when I was a child."

 

The evening of the first meeting was one of uncertainty. We really did not know if the receptions would be good or bad. An announcement was made in the local newspaper for all interested persons, with time and place specified. Much to our amazement seventy-five interested people attended. I never realized there were that many epileptics in the Capitol District area. In the years ahead I was to learn there were 150 times that number.

 

It never occurred to me then when that meeting took place, that I would be more deeply involved than I had anticipated. I had never considered myself capable of doing anymore than housework. As a matter of fact, I was quite contented doing just that. I learned from this experience that being contented was not necessarily taking up the cross. There was a job to be done and the Lord had chosen me to do it, at least for a time. How many times I prayed "Lord, I am available-- please-- make me able!"

 

I now found myself not only the instigator of the organization but the interim president. The following year I was unanimously elected president. I continued in that office for two m ore years and was about to be elected for the fourth year when I refused because I felt it was not right for one person to be in the place of authority for so long a time. However, this did not seem to make much different. When public speaking engagements were scheduled I was asked to speak. No one will ever realize the uncertainty I felt when asked to do these things. After all, wasn't I the girl who once had to be practically dragged to a PTA meeting by her neighbor and after arriving would hope no one would talk to her because she would not know what to say? Now, here I was speaking before PTA groups, at faculty meetings, rotary clubs, business and professional women's groups and not least of all on radio and TV. It had to be the Lord!

 

Nevertheless, I met with some opposition. Marilyn was warned by one of the other members to be careful because I was trying to convert her. Alice did not like me. I was "too religious," she said.

 

Since we left the hospital, Marilyn made it a point to visit me once a week. We would have a short Bible study, which she desired and enjoyed. Then one day she came as usual but emphatically declared, "If you're going to teach me, you'll do so only with this Bible," as she handed me a copy of the Duoy version. It seems that one of the other members of the league, who was also a Roman Catholic, warned her that I was out to make a Protestant of her. How far from the truth this was. I proved to her that this was not my intent as we proceeded to study the Gospel according to St. John from her preferred source.

 

In time Marilyn realized I had no desire to proselytize but only to lead her to a personal awareness of a living Lord and this Lord could be worshipped anywhere. Marilyn has come a long way since that day. She is an evangelist in her own right, long since receiving Christ, a living witness to the glory of God among the handicapped at the Sheltered Workshop in Menands, N. Y. Marilyn was not only the first person to be baptized in the baptistery at the Loudonville Community Church in Loudonville, N.Y. but was the bride at the most beautiful wedding that has taken place there. It was beautiful in the sense that it was unique. Most of her guests were from the Sheltered Workshop, many on crutches and in wheelchairs. I thought, as I sat there that day, surely, there should be more of these people into his church -- why weren't they? Where was the ministry of the church to the handicapped?

 

It was always a sense of grief to me to find that very few of my Christian friends were interested in the less physically endowed. How I dreamed of a Bethel for the suffering here...This is still very much on my heart, and in my prayers.

 

Nevertheless, I was able to shed some of the light of our Lord in our league meetings and to share His saving grace to those who came to me or called the league number, another one of the responsibilities assigned to me. At that time I was the only league member not committed to another job, therefore, it was decided that the official telephone would be placed in my home, with the consent of both my husband and myself, of course. As a result of this I was able to become acquainted with various agencies in our area. I was able to learn techniques of counseling but always with a love for the person I was counseling. I learned to see each person, not as he or she appeared but rather as she or she would be in Christ.

 

Perhaps, one of the most interesting cases I had was that of a girl whom I shall call Gloria. Gloria called me one day, stating that she had been trying for six months to get up the courage to call me. She had had brain surgery one year previous and had not left her house since that time. She was afraid to go outside and particularly where there were many people. I asked her where she lived, assuring her that I would be over to see her as soon as possible.

 

Gloria was a frightened, fearful girl. I shared with her my own experience. I told her I knew how she felt because I had been there but I assured her that there was Someone who would be with her, who would deliver her from these fears. We prayed together and I claimed the Lord's healing for her. Then I suggested we go out for a hamburger. She was reluctant at first. I assured her that I was with her, but what was more important -- the Lord was with her.

 

When I brought Gloria home, after a lengthy session of real heart to heart homespun therapy over a hamburger and coke, I invited her to a special program which the college and career group was sponsoring in our church the following Sunday. I told her that I would accompany her. She said she would have to think it over.

 

Sunday arrived; Gloria was ready to go, so much so that she phoned me earlier than the scheduled time to be sure I would be there to pick her up. She really, really wanted to go and I had no doubt that the Lord wanted her there.

 

Scott Ross was the speaker that evening and if for no one else, he was the Lord's instrument to teach her. Jame asked him to pray for her. She wanted to claim her healing. The Holy Spirit was there that night. Fourteen college students were converted, after a message was given in tongues and the prophetic utterance interpreted. The message- "Ask and you shall receive, seek and you shall find, knock and it shall be opened unto you." That evening the Lord added to the church such as should be saved.

 

A total healing took place in this girl. She not only came to some meetings after this but also allowed me to arrange an interview for her with the Department of Vocational Rehabilitation.

 

She had never had another seizure, which has been at least ten years, and is now fully employed. She made a special effort to call me once she was allowed to attain a driver's permit, and then upon receiving her driver's license, made an equal effort to drive to my home in a car, which she had purchased, with her well-deserved earnings.

 

There are so many accounts I could relate of transformed lives. The Lord still works in strange ways his wonders to perform. Perhaps one of the most rewarding experiences was the time when Alice, the mother of the retarded epileptic boy came to the Lord. She called one day, very distraught and in tears. Her boy, Rick, was hospitalized. The doctor did not give her any hope for his survival. He was status epilepticus and there was no way to bring him out of the seizures. What could she do? I told her I could suggest something but it was her decision to make. I told her that I had had prayers for healing and the Lord had cured me. Was she willing to have someone pray for Rick? She said yes, anything to help her boy.

 

At that time I did not realize I, too, could pray for someone. This was prior to my experience with Gloria. Therefore, I asked a Pentecostal minister with whom I was acquainted, if he would go into the hospital to minister to him. He consented, on the condition that I too would pray, along with the faithful prayer warriors in his church.

 

The following day this minister walked into that hospital room, and since I was not present, I am not sure whether he even laid a hand upon the boy, before Rick opened his eyes exclaiming, "Go home-home". Rick was spared. Alice was converted.

 

Today Rick is with Jesus. He lived for 15 years after that experience. He lived to be a testimony to many others, that Jesus is as much a Savior and Lord to the mentally handicapped as well as those who have all their faculties. Rick's faith was real and it was simple and it was child-like. I can recall the evening he stood in the pulpit of the Pineview Community Church giving a brief testimony of praise to the living Savior. In a few simple words he said, "I love Jesus and Jesus loves me, and Jesus healed me." As far as Rick was concerned he was healed because he had an abiding relationship with the Lord.

 

The Lord chose to take him last summer as he was sitting beside the pond in his parents' backyard. Rick had just eaten his dinner, a seizure took him and he fell into the pond. He was alone at the time. At first it was believed that he drowned but an autopsy revealed food lodged in his throat resulting in asphyxiation due to the seizure.

 

Some may ask why didn't the Lord heal him completely? Rick had a healing of the spirit that very few have. The epileptic body is gone; the seizures are no longer with him in his heavenly body. He is healed; more so than he would even have been upon this earth. The mortal had put upon immortality and I expect I shall see him in all his glory -- the Rick God intended him to be. He, too, had been seized by God!

 

For twelve years I was privileged to counsel many more with epilepsy, to see countless others seized by God. Those who had no hope found their hope in Him. He has given purpose and meaning to lives of those once considered by society as second-class citizens.

 

I left the epilepsy league after it merged with the Epilepsy Foundation of America. I did not have the academic qualifications to continue in the counseling capacity once the work became more structured. I remained on the board until my term ran out, however, I still receive calls from people who have been referred to me or those who are seeking assistance for someone with the problem.

 

A turning point came in my life after this. I had hoped to start a work for the handicapped in a nearby Christian camp. Another woman and myself were given the last week in August 1973 in which to begin a pilot program with the mentally handicapped. I was making last minute preparations the week previous to the scheduled date when I was privileged to meet Dr. C. Aiken Taylor. We became good friends at this time and he became my confidante. Dr. Taylor suggested I do something for myself. I told him I was happy doing for others, however, I knew I was lacking in academia but I also believed I was incapable of learning or retaining any knowledge. How often this same suggestion had been made to me by the Vocational Rehabilitation counselor to whom I had taken so many others. Was it possible I could learn?

 

One evening at the camp Dr. Taylor preached a sermon and the Lord spoke to me through it. I did not realize its full meaning until the following day. Dr. Taylor said, "When the Lord closes a door it is because he has a better one opening for you."

 

The following day at lunch the director of the camp came over to our table to tell me that the camp for the handicapped would be cancelled. I said, "I know it because the Lord told me in Dr. Taylor's sermon last night that he had a better door opening for me." What could it be?

 

The following day was Sunday. Since I would not be in camp I returned to my home church for the morning service. Lloyd Jonas was preaching on the Holy Spirit. At the close of the service, as he was shaking my hand he exclaimed, "You were lit up like a light bulb, Jeannette. I thought you would be up in the pulpit any minute. However, there is someone in the fellowship hall who did not like what I had to say. Maybe, you'd better go in to see what you can do."

 

I went in, as suggested. There was a girl in seizure, convulsing on the floor. Several people were holding her down. I went over to them, exclaiming that one in seizure should never be held down. Suddenly, I was saying, "Lord Jesus, control her brain waves." She came out of it and stood up. There was a woman there who stated she did not intend to come to that church but the Lord had put it upon her heart to do so and now she knew the reason why. She said that every year she would send someone to Agnes Sandford's School on Pastoral Care. She believed this year the Lord wanted her to send me. However, she said she could not assure me that they would accept me since I was not a professional. We could pray about it.

 

While I awaited an answer I decided to take Dr. Taylor's advice to do something to help myself. Therefore, I made an appointment with the Department of Vocational Rehabilitation and was scheduled to have the aptitude tests and various psychological examinations. Perhaps, I thought, I could at least learn to operate a keypunch.

 

Meanwhile, as I awaited the results of these tests, I received notice of my acceptance in the Agnes Sanford School of Pastoral Care, located in Whitinsville, Mass.

 

This was one of the most rewarding mountaintop experiences of my life. I received, with the many others enrolled, teaching in depth of the work of the Holy Spirit both in apostolic times and today. We shared together, prayed together, and received any necessary counseling. The priest who ministered to me was Skip Vilas, at that time a pastor in an Episcopal church in New England. He prayed for the healing of my memories. Then he asked if I was willing to allow the Holy Spirit to have His way with me. He warned me that it would not be easy. I told him that I was aware of this, however, I must be all in Christ or not at all. As far as I was concerned there was no other way. How little I realized at that time how much of self was still in control.

 

Then the Lord began to do some unfinished work within me. The refining process of the Holy Spirit began.

 

Upon my return to Albany, I received notice from the Department of Vocational Rehabilitation that my test results were in. I went to the office at the time appointed. As I sat across the desk from my counselor, I heard her say, "Dr. A says you are college material." I looked her straight in the eye, "You are crazy!" I replied. I was amazed at my own retort. There was a spirit in me that was doubtful. She assured me that I was capable of academia. It did not seem possible that I could handle this. After all, I was approaching the forty eighth year of my life. Besides how did I know this was the Lord's will for my life?

 

I went to a dear friend, pastor of a near-by church. "Russ," I said, "how do I know this is the Lord's will for me?" He told me to weigh the pros and cons, plus my husband's opinion was to be considered. As it was, much to my amazement, my husband was all for it. He actually encouraged me to register at the State University of New York at Albany, for at least two courses, just to see if I could handle it. But that was not enough. I really had to be sure. As I drove home from Russ's parsonage I prayed. I asked for a word. In my mind the words came-- read John 6:6. How ridiculous, I thought! Nevertheless, I looked it up. Was I surprised to read-- "and this He said to test him. For He knew what he was going to do." It could not have been more obvious. The only obstacle in the way of my attending college was my will.

 

I enrolled at State University of New York in Albany in January 1973 with the full intention of showing everyone that I was incapable of learning. The only one I fooled was myself. But this was only the beginning!

 

During this semester at SUNYA I received an invitation to lunch with a friend at the College of St. Rose in Albany. While at lunch I met Sister Pauline McCormack who was very interested in what I was doing. She suggested I allow her to arrange an interview with the director of the Degree Program for Experienced Adults (DPEA). She told me that I could receive college credits for my years of work with the Epilepsy League. I told her I did not think I would continue college but she was a most persistent woman, the result being my consent, at least, for an initial interview with Sister Catherine Daley.

 

The evening of the interview was encouraging. Sister Catherine was a very pleasant person with a whimsical manner. She received a telephone call in the midst of our interview. I do not know who the other party was but I was surprised at the comment Sister Catherine made. She said, in her spirited manner, "I'll be over in about a half hour, I'm being converted now." There was no doubt in my mind that Sister Catherine did not need converting. She is a lovely saint of the church and a definite source of encouragement to me. She informed me that I would have to go before the board of directors for a personal evaluation and an autobiographical sketch would be required of me.

 

I completed the autobiographical sketch, received letters of recommendation from those who knew me over the years, and presented them to the board. As usual I was frightened and insecure but the Lord was with me. As we left the board room, Sister Catherine embraced me. I said, "Even if I don't get accepted at St. Rose, it has been a privilege to meet you, Sister Catherine."

 

"Oh, you'll get accepted," she replied, "and when you do promise me one thing. Please, keep talking about Jesus the way you do."

 

I did get accepted and I did keep talking about Jesus. The experiences I had at St. Rose were equally as precious as those years in the Epilepsy League. It was my privilege to witness of the saving grace of our Lord the two and one half years I was there. I graduated with honors in May 1975, a BA in Theology. However, that has not severed my contact with the college. Recently, my former advisor and dear friend, Sister Jeanne Mittnight called to invite me to help form a prayer cell at the college. What a joy it is to Praise the Lord with all our brethren, be they Protestant or Catholic. The Lord is the same yesterday, today and forevermore.

 

In December of 1975, my husband was hospitalized with a myocardial infarction. Two weeks later I received a call from the Albany Medical Center Hospital. Would I be interested in coming in for an interview? They needed a medical clinic coordinator. It was not really what I had hoped to do but it was an answer to prayer. I took the job.

 

Since I have been at the Medical College another door has opened to me. It is in the field of alcohol and drug abuse counseling. I am now in the fourth of six courses required to be certified by the state of New York. The rate of addictions has increased to tremendous heights within a few short years. The needs of numerous individuals are not being met in our Dionysian society. The answer is Christ but there are few counselors in this field to impart this truth. These are souls for whom Christ died and Christ living in and through his church, his body can bring saving grace to those without hope. I know what the Lord has done for me He can do for them and I have much to share with those who are less fortunate. Whether epileptic, retarded, alcoholic or addicted to drugs, the Lord Jesus Christ is still the answer to all who will receive.

 

The opportunities are endless. The Lord has commissioned us to weep with them that weep, to be a light where there is little or no hope, to take the gospel to the needy people of this world, of whom there are multitudes. They are in need of the great Physician. They, too, need the touch of his hand.

 

I learned in the years of mountains and valleys that I just-- to be. Wherever He leads me, that is His mission field for me. How blessed is the one who is seized by the Living Lord! He never ceases to amaze me!

 

Where will we go from here, Lord? Dare I ask? No matter where, I know that He is with me. He is with me-- always. For He has promised that He will never-- no never-- forsake me. I look forward to that day when the one who touched me, seized me, shall say to me-- "Well done thou true and faithful servant." By His grace and only by His grace I have overcome the demons of the collective unconscious, the archetypes of the past, I overcome in the present - the now, and I shall overcome in the eternity He has prepared for me -- for all those who have felt the touch of His hand, all who have been seized by God!