I owe my life to revelation.
My mother lay down my content three-year-old body to sleep, so that she could open the door to her visiting teachers. Little did she know it was about to be the last time she saw me alive. It was a regular afternoon in 1985, Mexico City, Mexico.
As it is custom, she kissed the cheeks of her visitors and they chit-chatted their way up the pavement stairs to the sunny living room. Suddenly, she felt a clear impression: go check on Maraly. She knew it was the spirit and could recognize it, but quickly rationalized: “I just lay her down…I do not hear her cry…” And so she decided that interrupting her visitors was unnecessary. But as the seconds tick-tocked in her head, she felt discontent with ignoring what she thought might be the Spirit, or her own thoughts, but just to be sure, she excused herself and walked down the hall, past three rooms, just to check on me. She saw me laying down, facing the wall, apparently sleeping. She tip-toed her way out of the room, and went back, excused herself again and sat to hear her lesson. Unrelenting, the spirit nudged her again to go check on me, and this time, turn me around. She listened and obeyed.
The horror she felt as she turned me and saw my face turned dark blue! She knew I was either dead or dying, and could not find my heart beat or hear me breathing. The team of ladies rushed me to the nearest hospital where I was swept off her hands. Even before the doctor talked to her, she had pure knowledge that I was on my way to my tomb. She knew it. And as she has done so often, she called on her ready recourse, her Heavenly Father. She humbly submitted her will to His, asking that if it was His will to take me, to help her to accept that, but that if it was His will that I stayed alive, to please help the doctors, and my little breathless body so that I could…..An idea came to her mind: I needed a blessing, but in Mexico no family members or doctors are admitted into the NICU or rooms. The only person allowed is the Priest, usually a catholic Father, to give the “Santos Olios,” a ceremony to anoint the body of the dying in preparation for Heaven. She just needed to find a priesthood holder and ask for the blessing….she asked the Father if he would please let me live if I received a blessing, and she received a clear sweetness that swept her body with hope and she knew that the Lord was listening to her and that I would be fine. From that moment on she was given the knowledge that I would live. Her anguish vanished and she started to comfort those around her with the knowledge that I would be fine.
The doctor came out to tell her that there was nothing they could do. Solemnly, he said I was a case of sudden infant death, and that small children sometimes just die for unknown causes. They had hooked me to oxygen machines, had tried techniques to help my almost in-existent pulse, and I was not responding. He told her to prepare for my death. She was ready for this, and asked to please allow “the priest” to come give me my blessing. With my eminent dead undeniable, he agreed.
My college student cousin Federico Soto responded in a hurry. He placed his anxious hands upon my helpless body, and under the name and authority of Jesus Christ, he spoke blessings by the inspiration and authority of the power of God. I wonder if all those New Testament stories of Christ laying his hands and with authority healing the sick ran through Federico’s head to give him faith to perform this sacred act of service, to act as a physical link of the power of God, to bring the power of life to me from the Son of God.
Shortly after, my vitals came to normal. The morning of the third day, the same doctor told my mother: “Señora, I do not believe in God. I believe in science. I feel that I must tell you, we do not know why your daughter was dying, but I am certain she was going to die. I do not know what happened. We have kept her here for observation. Nothing we did helped her. Then your priest came, and we have done nothing since. We are in awe….your daughter is alive, and well despite the lack of oxygen for a prolonged time…..It is a miracle. I cannot call it anything other than a miracle.”
The only thing I remember from this whole ordeal is opening my eyes and seeing the white linen in the white hospital room. I called for my mother, but she was not allowed. So I cried and screamed for my mother, and they finally let her take me out. I remember my mom and dad kissing me and crying and loving me so. Then we walked to our home in Moctezuma. My dad wanted to hold me, but I wanted to walk. I wanted to skip jump while holding his hand. He was a giant to me and I have always looked up to him.
I will forever be grateful for knowing and experiencing the love of my Heavenly Father. This is only one life-changing example of the power of revelation. The thoughts, the direction, the guidance, the knowledge, the comfort, the love that my Heavenly Father gave my mother, the priesthood power that effectively healed me, the renewed life that he gave me, are revelation.
Now I am a mother of my own. I would like to be a dedicated and prepared vessel so that I may be ready to receive the guidance of my father in my time of need or the time of need of those around me. I want to support other the way she was supported by others, by the Spirit, and the Lord. Today I am not in a state of emergency, but now is the time, when all is well, to prepare my vessel, to fill my faith, to build a knowledge of the proceedings of the Lord and his mercies upon those who have gone before, so that when the emergency arrives I will be willing to accept whatever His will may be, and the courage to have His light guide my path.