For a good number of years my family has been urging me to commit to paper a record of my experience of paralysis. There is both sorrow and joy. It is all true, to the best of my memory. It occurred in August-September, 1977 when I was 41 years old. My wife, Darlene, and I lived in southwestern Michigan with six children. Our first born, Steve, was going off to college. Our youngest, Ruthie, was nearly seven. I was pastoring a church when the problem arose. I was out of the pulpit until November when I could stand long ...
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For a good number of years my family has been urging me to commit to paper a record of my experience of paralysis. There is both sorrow and joy. It is all true, to the best of my memory. It occurred in August-September, 1977 when I was 41 years old. My wife, Darlene, and I lived in southwestern Michigan with six children. Our first born, Steve, was going off to college. Our youngest, Ruthie, was nearly seven. I was pastoring a church when the problem arose. I was out of the pulpit until November when I could stand long enough to preach a message. I give thanks to my wife for her faithful encouragement and substitution for my responsibilities in our home. I also want to express my great appreciation to my second son, Daniel, for his repeated driving to transport me to the hospitals and stay with his mother to protect and comfort her during those early days of my illness. Becky, my daughter, made a big contribution in editing my manuscript. I am aware that possibly hundreds of people across the country, especially in Michigan and Iowa, took my name before the Lord. And, finally, I give praise to God for His mercy and grace in restoring my health when He allows so many others to go through similar problems for a lifetime without relief.
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