A few months ago at church, Desiree took my hand and told me that she wanted to get baptized again and wanted me to join her. I was touched but I wasn't sure. It had been such a hard two years. It stuck in my mind and then a few weeks ago, she brought it up again and taking my hand, she said it was a new year, a new start for us, a new commitment to God. Tears welled up in my eyes as I thought about her words. I learned so much these past two years and I have grown in my faith. Every experience became part of this unshakable belief that God is there watching over us and that He has a plan that is so much bigger than we can understand. So, this is my testimony that I want to share with you as I re-commit my life to God this Sunday.
My parents gave me a strong Christian foundation. As kids, I remember we sat around the kitchen table taking turns reading the Upper Room during breakfast. It gave us a few quiet minutes in the busy rush of school mornings. There was youth group, church camp, and memories of my mom tucking us into bed and saying our prayers. These experiences were a foundation for me as I grew up, went off to college, traveled and experienced life. The strength of my faith ebbed and flowed during the years, but it was always there; a constant glow in my life. But I had no understanding of how important my faith would be one day.
That day was June 15, 2007 when my husband, Hamid, was lying in the hospital on a ventilator, swollen from extensive emergency surgery, and receiving multiple blood transfusions. They told me that it might be cancer and that they had removed 2/3s of his stomach. I had waited 10 years to marry Hamid, and our 2 years of marriage had been wonderful. And there I was, wondering if he was going to live. I was 8 weeks pregnant with Afshin, and Ariyana was just 14 months old.
I turned to God and was blessed with the people He surrounded us with. Hamid did come home, and we had a new perspective on life. We enjoyed every moment, and our relationship grew even stronger as we faced the realization that he was going to die within months. We had many beautiful moments that year, but many heartbreaking ones as well. On December 6, 2007 Hamid had surgery in San Diego to try to alleviate a bowel obstruction. Due to complications he was in the hospital for 3 ½ months. During that time he had several close calls with death but he somehow always pulled through. I think God was giving Hamid time to finish things and come home to Him.
From December through April, I left my children with my parents and stayed by his side. As I look back on that time I don’t know how I survived. It broke my heart to watch mom and dad drive away with the kids as I waved good bye and slowly walked back into the hospital trying to keep up a strong front for Hamid. I was so torn. I was supposed to be home caring for Afshin and watching Ariyana hold her little brother, but I also knew I belonged by Hamid’s side. He needed me there. At times I could feel the Hamid I knew and loved slipping away with the pain, the tubes, and the gray walls of the hospital room. Eating dinner in the cafeteria for nearly 3 months, I saw many families come and go. I envied them. I often cried myself to sleep listening to the buzz of the IVs, the ding of Hamid’s pain pump, and the soft chatter from the nurses station. Somehow, I always found a way to smile the next morning as I walked over to Hamid’s bed, ready to face the day. I think about the poem, Footprints in the Sand by Carolyn Joyce Carty. My mom loved this poem and I even memorized it for school when I was young. I know these words are true…"My precious, precious child. I love you and I would never leave you. During your times of trial and suffering when you saw only one set of footprints...That was when I carried you.” I know that God carried me during that time; I could not have endured that alone.
In April, Hamid came home on hospice. He believed in God and recognized Jesus as a great man. He actually liked to talk about religion and beliefs but he wasn’t a Christian. Hamid came to church with me occasionally and we prayed during meals. After his diagnosis he tried to come to church more, but it was hard as the cancer progressed. I struggled with where he was in his beliefs. Would he go to meet God? One day my friend Mara asked Hamid if she could read the Bible to him as she prayed and anointed him with oil. He let her do it and the experience really touched him. Later I told Hamid about the stories I had read about the tree of life in Heaven. I asked him if he would meet me there. Crying, he promised to meet me there. Hamid died on July 9, 2008. I lay beside him, with my hand on his chest, and felt his heart beat for the last time. My entire being ached for him and for our children who didn’t get the chance to really know what an incredible man he was. But I also knew Hamid had moved on to a much better place, a place where I will meet him one day. I miss Hamid everyday but have been blessed with signs and gifts that reaffirm God’s presence and plan for my life. So, with this baptism I start a new day, and I recommit my life to God and will continue to trust in Him.
My parents gave me a strong Christian foundation. As kids, I remember we sat around the kitchen table taking turns reading the Upper Room during breakfast. It gave us a few quiet minutes in the busy rush of school mornings. There was youth group, church camp, and memories of my mom tucking us into bed and saying our prayers. These experiences were a foundation for me as I grew up, went off to college, traveled and experienced life. The strength of my faith ebbed and flowed during the years, but it was always there; a constant glow in my life. But I had no understanding of how important my faith would be one day.
That day was June 15, 2007 when my husband, Hamid, was lying in the hospital on a ventilator, swollen from extensive emergency surgery, and receiving multiple blood transfusions. They told me that it might be cancer and that they had removed 2/3s of his stomach. I had waited 10 years to marry Hamid, and our 2 years of marriage had been wonderful. And there I was, wondering if he was going to live. I was 8 weeks pregnant with Afshin, and Ariyana was just 14 months old.
I turned to God and was blessed with the people He surrounded us with. Hamid did come home, and we had a new perspective on life. We enjoyed every moment, and our relationship grew even stronger as we faced the realization that he was going to die within months. We had many beautiful moments that year, but many heartbreaking ones as well. On December 6, 2007 Hamid had surgery in San Diego to try to alleviate a bowel obstruction. Due to complications he was in the hospital for 3 ½ months. During that time he had several close calls with death but he somehow always pulled through. I think God was giving Hamid time to finish things and come home to Him.
From December through April, I left my children with my parents and stayed by his side. As I look back on that time I don’t know how I survived. It broke my heart to watch mom and dad drive away with the kids as I waved good bye and slowly walked back into the hospital trying to keep up a strong front for Hamid. I was so torn. I was supposed to be home caring for Afshin and watching Ariyana hold her little brother, but I also knew I belonged by Hamid’s side. He needed me there. At times I could feel the Hamid I knew and loved slipping away with the pain, the tubes, and the gray walls of the hospital room. Eating dinner in the cafeteria for nearly 3 months, I saw many families come and go. I envied them. I often cried myself to sleep listening to the buzz of the IVs, the ding of Hamid’s pain pump, and the soft chatter from the nurses station. Somehow, I always found a way to smile the next morning as I walked over to Hamid’s bed, ready to face the day. I think about the poem, Footprints in the Sand by Carolyn Joyce Carty. My mom loved this poem and I even memorized it for school when I was young. I know these words are true…"My precious, precious child. I love you and I would never leave you. During your times of trial and suffering when you saw only one set of footprints...That was when I carried you.” I know that God carried me during that time; I could not have endured that alone.
In April, Hamid came home on hospice. He believed in God and recognized Jesus as a great man. He actually liked to talk about religion and beliefs but he wasn’t a Christian. Hamid came to church with me occasionally and we prayed during meals. After his diagnosis he tried to come to church more, but it was hard as the cancer progressed. I struggled with where he was in his beliefs. Would he go to meet God? One day my friend Mara asked Hamid if she could read the Bible to him as she prayed and anointed him with oil. He let her do it and the experience really touched him. Later I told Hamid about the stories I had read about the tree of life in Heaven. I asked him if he would meet me there. Crying, he promised to meet me there. Hamid died on July 9, 2008. I lay beside him, with my hand on his chest, and felt his heart beat for the last time. My entire being ached for him and for our children who didn’t get the chance to really know what an incredible man he was. But I also knew Hamid had moved on to a much better place, a place where I will meet him one day. I miss Hamid everyday but have been blessed with signs and gifts that reaffirm God’s presence and plan for my life. So, with this baptism I start a new day, and I recommit my life to God and will continue to trust in Him.
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