Rendezvous with Victory
- January 1981 -
 
 
It's 7:15 AM. The sun is peeking over the horizon and the cold, brisk chill has frosted the windows, leaving countless traces of Jack Frost's artistic designs. But I can't seem to appreciate their beauty this morning. Nurses and orderlies have just wheeled my husband, Larry, down a long corridor of the University of Minnesota Hospital. They're disappearing into the elevator on their way to surgery for the removal of a tumor in Larry's jaw. Only 12 hours ago he'd signed consent forms for the doctors to perform whatever they felt necessary to prevent the tumor from spreading and eating away his jawbone and the facial area around it. I'm struggling to prepare myself for what I may encounter when he returns from surgery. My faith is wavering and fear is setting in. "Why Larry? He's so healthy...I can always count on him to be the healthy and strong one to lean on...this crisis happened so quickly. A week ago everything was fine." .....
 
 
We and the rest of the Lundstrom team held a Family Enrichment Seminar in Cedar Rapids, Iowa, and the Lord blessed all of the sessions. More than thirty couples rededicated their lives to Jesus Christ and renewed their marriage vows. We also had terrific seminar sessions with 50 teenagers. Nearly all of them made fresh commitments to Christ. All in all, it was a fulfilling weekend.

When the seminar ended, we boarded our bus and headed for Des Moines, Iowa. Our family had a full day of dental appointments scheduled with Dr. Boltz. We were going to have our teeth examined and the necessary work done all at once. I coaxed Larry to have his teeth checked and some bridgework done. (He had the tendency to put it off, figuring he's too busy to sit in a dentist's office.) During the general examination, Dr. Boltz found a cyst under Larry's right bottom jawbone. He encouraged him to have it taken care of as soon as possible; otherwise it would fester and cause him further trouble. Then he suggested, "Larry, you should come back in a week. I'll schedule you for surgery with an excellent oral surgeon whose office is just down the street from here." Since we had the following Monday open, Dr. Boltz scheduled the oral surgery for 11:00 AM that day.

 
 
We went on our way for a week of one-night rallies which finally took us to Kansas City for another Family Enrichment Seminar. God gave us another weekend of spiritual victory. Many couples' and teenagers' lives were renewed. The seminar closed at noon on Sunday, and we headed back to Des Moines for Larry's scheduled surgery.

On Monday morning we parked the bus near the surgeon's office. Larry went in and I waited for him in the lobby, thinking the minor surgery would take only a half-hour or so. We were in a hurry to be on our way because our family had booked church rallies for the following nights in Minnesota while the other band members would be recording sound tracks for the new Old-time Favorites record album.

I waited and waited. An hour went by, then two hours. I was beginning to wonder why the surgery was taking so long. Then a nurse came out and said, "I suppose you are wondering where your husband is." I responded, "Well, yes, I am!" She replied, "He's fine. What we'd thought was a cyst turned out to be a tumor and Dr. Edwards had quite a time trying to remove it. He didn't know what he was getting into when he started."

 
My heart sank! The word "tumor" sent chills through me. Just then Larry walked into the lobby, looking drawn and worn out. His face was puffy, and I could see pain written all over his face. Dr. Edwards came over and said, "Well, Larry, I'll have to send the tumor to a pathologist for tests and wait for the results to learn if it's malignant or not."

Relieved to hear that the tumor had been removed, I felt sure there wasn't anything to worry about. One small doubt crept into my mind and I said aloud, "I refuse that thought. I've given it to the Lord. Larry's going to be okay." I felt at peace again. Dr. Edwards called ahead for an appointment at the University of Minnesota Oral Surgery Clinic, and Larry was scheduled to be there on the following Monday. There a specialist would examine his mouth to make sure that all of the tumor cells had been removed. By that time the test results from the pathologist would also be back. We left the office and Larry drove the bus to the drugstore for his medicine. By the look on his face, I had a suspicion that I was about to inherit the position of one-and-only bus driver en route from Des Moines to Minneapolis. Sure enough, he became extremely nauseated and the pain grew increasingly worse. I fixed a bed for him in the front of the bus and prepared ice packs to help ease his pain and bleeding. About 8:00 that evening we arrived in Minneapolis and Larry seemed to be feeling better. I was relieved. Larry's face was swollen and he was in pain, but he said he'd be all right.

 

The next three evenings we held rallies in Minnesota. More than forty made decisions for Christ, some for salvation and others for rededication. On Friday night after our rally, we drove to LaCrosse, Wisconsin, where another Family Enrichment Seminar was to begin the following morning at 8:00. We were tired in body but refreshed in our souls as we entered the Convention Center on Saturday. Larry and I went to the coffee shop for breakfast. Lisa joined us and said, "Larry, Dr. Boltz has been trying to contact you for four days without success. I think he left a message with Dad. Have you seen him yet?" Larry's face looked sober as he asked, "Do you suppose something is wrong?" I replied, "Of course not. Dr. Boltz was probably just wondering how you're feeling after the surgery." Then someone interrupted, "Larry, Lowell wants to talk to you in his room." Larry's eyes flashed fear signals toward me. "Do you suppose Lowell knows something I don't know?" I responded, "No, Larry. He probably wants to talk to you about the string of upcoming one-night rallies. There's nothing to worry about. Don't even let it enter your mind." I went back to our room, and Larry went to Lowell and Connie's room.

 
I sat on the bed, preparing material for my afternoon session with the ladies. While I was praying for the Lord's guidance on whether to minister on the topic of self-acceptance or inner healing, Larry quietly entered the room. With his hands in his pockets and a completely blank expression on his face, he announced, "The tumor is malignant."

I protested, "Larry, how could it be? I prayed! I believed! I had total faith that there was nothing wrong. Now, why...why this? It can't be! Not Larry, the big 6'3" man who's hardly ever been sick! It just can't be!" I watched the fear and worry grip Larry's face. Then I knew what he said was true. I was so crushed, I couldn't even cry! I sat trying to sort out my thoughts and feelings.

Within the next few minutes, Satan began to attack me. He knew I was at my weakest point. First he hit me with the arrow of bitterness. The more the word "tumor" flashed through my mind, the more bitter I became. I flared up within and I thought, "It's not fair! I can't accept it!" Then a half-hope hit me: "Maybe Larry misunderstood Lowell. Maybe Lowell was kidding, but that's nothing to joke about! I'll find Lowell and ask him myself." I ran out of the room to the elevator. I thought it would never come, but it finally did and I walked in. As the elevator descended, my mind went into a daze. "I must be dreaming! What am I doing? Where am I going?"

The door opened into the lobby. I pushed my way through the crowd, desperate to find Lowell. As I looked for him, I thought to myself, "Surely Lowell will look at me and say, 'What are you talking about? I don't know anything about any tumor.'" I met Lowell on his way to film a sermon. I grabbed his arm and asked calmly, "Lowell, what do you know about Larry?" He repeated the story Larry had just told me.

Bitterness began to rage in my heart and spread quickly within me like weeds in a garden. Lowell could sense that I was fighting my emotions. With a tear in his eye and a crack in his voice, he strove to quiet my fears. I could tell it had been equally hard on him, knowing the news for a few days already, wishing it wasn't true and wondering how he was going to break the news to Larry and me. A deep brotherly love flowed through him. He was on a tight schedule of seminar sessions and filming, but he was so concerned that he lingered for several minutes, trying to encourage me through my struggle with bitterness.

 

When he left, I quickly headed back to the elevator. By this time, word was slipping out about Larry and people were watching for my reaction to this devastating blow. I wondered, "How do I respond? How am I supposed to act? How am I supposed to answer?" Someone walked up to me and commented, "Well, Gloria, the Lord is giving you another story to write." I flared back, "If I have to go through this to get a story, I don't want one. I'd rather not write at all." Someone else remarked, "Here's another bridge to cross," and I replied, "I'm so tired of crossing bridges that I can't face another one!"

I entered the elevator, and it was jammed with people. My mind whirled. "Where can I go? I need to get away! I need a quiet place! I can't go back to the room now-I'd go to pieces in front of Larry! But now is when I have to be strong; Larry needs me! Where's my courage? Where's my composure? Where's my faith? What is wrong with me?" The door opened to some floor, I didn't know which. I ran to the far end of the corridor and into an empty storage room. Then I broke down in tears.

When I glanced at my watch, I exclaimed, "Oh, no! I have only ten minutes before my afternoon session. I don't want to go, but I have to!" I thought apprehensively, "Now what will I do? Here I've been praying all day for the session and the Lord guided me to share biblical truth about inner healing-how we should ask Him to heal all the bad memories, hurts, guilt and bitterness that haunt us and keep us from being free and fulfilled in Christ. But how can I share any of this with them when I feel the seed of bitterness raging in my own heart?"

 

When I neared the open door of the conference room, I saw that the ladies were waiting patiently, but I could hardly muster the strength to walk into the room. Sensing that something was bothering me, our seminar coordinator, Gary Jopp, asked me, "Gloria, can I help you?" I pleaded, "Gary, please pray for strength for me so I can share with these ladies." He prayed and immediately I felt a sweet peace and a new surge of strength flow through me. I went in and the Holy Spirit was present in power throughout the session.

As the end of the session neared, the Lord whispered to me, "Gloria, you need an inner healing to release you from the bitterness you are harboring in your own heart. I cannot continue to bless other people through you unless you release your bitterness to Me." I swallowed hard and said humbly, "Ladies, I need an inner healing myself today. I have a bitterness that is only and hour an a -half old, but its deadly grip is already taking its toll on me. I need to be set free!" I told the ladies that I had just received bad news about Larry and, in all reality, had become bitter toward God though I hadn't realized it earlier. About eighty of the ladies joined in the prayer for inner healing for me and themselves. Praise God, I felt released and victorious when I left the session!

 

I returned to the room to find that Satan was one step ahead of me. Our son, Lee Donovan, lay on the bed with a 104-degree fever, his eyes half-rolled back and his chest congested. He was so sick that he couldn't even whimper...a helpless, inert little form. I knelt on my knees, put my cool hand on his forehead and started to pray that God would heal him. A disturbing thought interrupted my prayer: "How can I kneel here and pray for Lee Donovan? Where's my faith? I thought I was praying in faith for Larry, but the tests show that the tumor is malignant." What a slap in the face from Satan!

Lee Donovan became even worse, so I asked the seminar coordinator to take us to the emergency room at the nearest hospital. As soon as we arrived, doctors examined Lee Donovan and administered medication for his flu, fever and ear infection.

By the time we returned to the Convention Center, I thought I was going to collapse. I was emotionally, physically, mentally and spiritually drained. Somehow, stumbling down the long corridors, I managed to carry Lee Donovan to our room. Then, trying not to drop my precious bundle, I struggled to find the key to the door and opened it. I tucked our son into bed and sat down to recover from the day's shocks. Again I tried to pray, but my efforts were futile. I didn't even know how to approach God. "If faith is the key to victory," I argued, "Why didn't it work for Larry?" My faith crumbled and I couldn't seem to pull it back together.

Larry returned from the concert and appeared to be fatigued mentally and physically. I tried to encourage him, but I didn't succeed. That night seemed especially long and dark. I lay thinking, fruitlessly trying again and again to sort out my thoughts and feelings. Larry tossed and turned. I know he didn't sleep well either. My heart was physically pained from the emotional strain, and I began to cry out to God in sheer anguish, "O Lord, if I ever needed You to help me, it's now! You promised in Isaiah 26:3, 'Thou wilt keep him in perfect peace, whose mind is stayed on thee: because he trusteth in thee.'" I was exhausted but relieved by the knowledge that our friends, family and team were praying for Larry. Their faith was great, and they had no doubt whatsoever that God was going to undertake Larry's healing.

 

Around 8:00 on Sunday morning a billowing wave of strength rushed through me and I felt as though my body, soul and spirit were lifted upon its crest. I realized then that the news that Larry might have cancer had quickly spread and people were lifting us up through prayer. I was resting in peace through the power of prayer. It was a wonderful sensation!

Lee Donovan's fever broke at 11:00 AM. He sat up in bed and demanded, "Mom, give me chocolate milk. I'm hungry!" Those words were music to my ears. Praise God! Lee Donovan felt better. I took him down to the coffee shop for lunch and as we were waiting for the waitress to take our order, Lowell came in and said that he and Connie were praying for us. Lowell was scheduled to leave on a 5:00 PM flight to Washington, D.C. , for the National Religious Broadcasters Convention. He was torn inside because he also wanted to be with us in Minneapolis when Larry had further tests. With a renewed peace, I assured him that Larry would be fine and that all of us were praying that he wouldn't need more surgery. One way or the other, the Lord would take care of us.

 

We checked out of the hotel that Sunday afternoon en route to Minneapolis. I rode in Lowell and Connie's bus to practice the Old-time Favorites album music with Connie, Joyce Simmons, Londa and Lisa. We were scheduled to record the music at Sound 80 Recording Studios from Tuesday morning through Thursday afternoon. As we practiced the song "Sweet Hour of Prayer," these lyrics ministered to me:
 
"Sweet hour of prayer, sweet hour of prayer that calls me from a world of care and bids me at my Father's throne make all my wants and wishes known. In seasons of distress and grief, my soul has often found relief and oft escaped the tempter's snare by thy return, sweet hour of prayer."

After reaching Minneapolis, Larry, our children and I checked into a motel room. Then I called our close friends, the Orville Petersons, and asked them to come and pick up Lee Donovan. They said they'd be happy to take care of him at their farm during the clinic tests and recording. When I fell into bed, I pleaded, "Lord, I know You could completely heal Larry's jaw by tomorrow. I'm asking You to perform a miracle now so that he won't need further surgery. Lord, I'm leaving the entire situation in Your hands."

 

The next morning as I was packing Lee Donovan's bag in the bus, I heard the bus door open and one of our daughters, LaDawn, cried, "Mom, help me! Mom, help me! I can't breathe, I'm so hot!" I ran to the door. There she stood, white as a ghost, no coat on. The temperature outside was only five degrees above zero, and a strong wind was whipping the snow all around us. I pulled LaDawn into the bus and she fell on the couch. Her eyes rolled back and she almost passed out.

I said, "Okay, Satan, I see you're trying to knock her down, too!" I knelt and prayed for her. Evidently LaDawn had the flu. I stayed with her until she felt better and tucked her into bed under the supervision of Sherri, her music teacher. Then I settled our other daughter, LaShawn, in the motel room for school with her teacher, Marcie, and walked Lee Donovan to the Peterson's car to say good-bye.

After they were on their way, Bruce Schoeman, our Minneapolis office manager, drove Larry and me to the Oral Surgery Clinic. I sat in the back seat of the car, feeling that our family was being divided up and shipped off piece by piece.
 

When we got to the clinic, several x-rays were taken of Larry's mouth and then the three of us waited for the x-rays to be developed, delivered to the doctor and studied. Finally a nurse called Larry and me into the specialist's office. A double-edged excitement came over me. I hoped the tests would read "Negative" and yet felt a twinge of fear that Larry might really need more surgery. I stared at the x-rays clipped to the x-ray viewer, hoping that I could figure them out on my own, but I couldn't.

Soon Dr. Waite entered the room. He appeared to be a kind and soft-spoken man, and he smiled as he introduced himself to us. We both looked into his eyes. They were sharp but sensitive. Larry and I looked at each other and smiled as if to say, "I feel good about this doctor." Later we were to learn that he's one of the top three oral surgeons in the United States.

For the next few minutes, we carefully examined the x-rays together. Meanwhile, my mind reran statements we'd heard before we left for the clinic. One person had stressed "Whatever you do, don't let the doctors take him to surgery and cut him open again!" I reacted inwardly, "If the doctor in Des Moines is certain that he was unable to remove the entirety of the tumor cells and suggest that Larry should have more extensive surgery in order to stop the tumor from spreading, Larry should go ahead with the operation...shouldn't he?"

Then I had another contradictory thought: "Where's your faith, Gloria? You prayed and believed that God would perform a miracle so that Larry wouldn't need surgery." Oh, I was in a quandary! Yet I had prayed all night, asking God to lead us to the right doctor and give us wisdom to make the right decisions. I realized as soon as we met Dr. Waite that he clicked with both Larry and me. We felt God had led us to the best doctor. Now, what would his decision be?
 
 

After reading the x-rays and examining Larry's jaw, Dr. Waite cleared his throat and explained, "Mr. Lundstrom, part of the tumor is still in your jaw. The good news is that it's not the type to spread to other parts of the body. It will stay localized in the jaw and mouth, but if the tumor cells are not removed they will spread and eat away the jawbone, mouth and gum area." The surgeon peered over his glasses at Larry and said gravely, "You need to be scheduled for surgery right away. Some infection has already set in and that will have to be taken care of immediately. More teeth will have to be removed as well as a block of jawbone and the flesh that has been exposed to the tumor before we can be sure that the growth has been arrested."

"What's wrong with me?" I thought in bewilderment. "I've tried to rebuild my faith and believe God for a miracle. Now the doctor tells us there's an infection and without question Larry has to have surgery." Even in the midst of my turmoil, I felt the sweet inner peace that God was in control. I prayed silently, "Okay, Lord. I guess I wanted my own way again. You know what's best, so I'm putting whatever happens into Your capable hands. Larry's all Yours!"

 

Dr. Waite made the necessary arrangements for Larry to be admitted to the hospital on Tuesday for tests and scheduled the surgery for 7:30 on Wednesday morning. When Larry and I left the clinic, we felt relieved that positive steps were being taken to stop the tumor. Not wanting to go back to the motel just yet, I suggested, "Larry, let's go out to a quiet little restaurant for awhile so we can gather our thoughts before we tell the children you need more surgery."

After a leisurely meal and conversation, we headed down the freeway on our way to the motel. Then, within a few miles of our destination, Larry glanced in his left mirror and noticed a car swerving erratically from one lane to the other. Like a bullet, the car swerved toward us. Larry slammed on the brakes just as the car went completely out of control and did a U-turn in front of us, missing us by three or four inches. The car then bounced into the embankment and came to a screeching halt, facing us on our right side. Confused, the driver sat for ten seconds and then sped off through the traffic and disappeared. My heart had nearly stopped beating for fear. Larry blurted, "That was a direct attack of Satan on our lives! Praise God, we were covered with the blood of Jesus and God's Word!" Still shaken, we went on to the motel and told LaShawn and LaDawn that their daddy would have to have more surgery, not knowing what the outcome would be. LaShawn said steadily, "Don't worry, Dad and Mom. God has never let us down, so I know He won't now."

After our girls went to bed, I slipped down the hall to Connie's room to explain to her how the doctor's appointment had turned out. She tried to encourage me and help me get rid of my fears. I appreciated her love and concern. When I returned to our room, Larry was sitting on the bed, talking to Lowell. Lowell had phoned from Washington, D.C., to pray with Larry and assure him that the Lord would see us through.

 
 
Tuesday was hectic. I went to the recording studio and sang for nine hours, working on the new album. In the meantime, a pastor friend drove Larry to the hospital. He was admitted at 1:00 PM. Keeping my mind on the music was difficult.

After awhile I took a break and phoned the Petersons so I could talk to Lee Donovan. I missed him, and I'd hated to have to send him away when he wasn't feeling up to his usual mischievous, energetic self. "Grandma" Peterson said, "Lee Donovan's still congested, and he must be allergic to the medicine. He broke out in a rash and scratched himself on the chest until he bled." I said to myself, "Satan's still not about to give up. In the name of Jesus, I command you, Satan, to get your hands off of Lee Donovan and, in the name of Jesus, heal Lee Donovan!" After saying good-bye to Mrs. Peterson, I hung up and returned to the studio to finish recording.

 
 
By 6:00 PM I was emotionally and physically exhausted. More than that, I was anxious to know the test results. After arriving at the hospital, I walked to Larry's room. When I got there, the expression on Larry's face communicated, "Bad news!" "What's the matter?" I asked nervously. Larry replied, "Honey, sometimes life is difficult, and this time I think we've bitten off a piece too big to swallow."

Larry proceeded to tell me he'd just signed two consent papers. One gave the surgeons permission to take a block of bone out of his hip to rebuild the jawbone area that had to be cut out. The other paper represented a consent that if they felt the jaw would be too weak to heal on its own, they could wire Larry's mouth shut and it would have to stay that way for a month or so. More than likely, a tube would have to be inserted in his right jaw for drainage. The doctors had explained that the four teeth and flesh that had surrounded the tumor would have to be removed. Last of all, because of the surgery Larry's tongue and bottom lip would be numb for six months to a year.

Larry fretted, "Honey, if I'm unable to use my tongue and lip properly, what will I do? I won't be able to sing, teach, counsel or preach. Our future won't be very pleasant, will it?" I tried my best to encourage him, but I was hurting so much myself that I didn't do a very good job and our awkward smiles turned to tears. Before I left, Larry and I prayed, giving the Lord our hurts, doubts and fears and asking Him for added strength to face our tomorrows.

Gary Antilla, our bus driver, took me back to the motel. My empty room seemed like a tomb and the silence was more than I could bear. Then loneliness hit me. Lee Donovan was 50 miles away. LaShawn and LaDawn were across the city, an hour away, and Larry was in the hospital. I felt abandoned. "Lord," I cried, "Where are You? I need Your comfort. I need Your peace. I'm so lonely, Lord. Please help me."

 
 
I picked up the phone and called the Jerry McClure residence, where LaShawn and LaDawn were staying, to say goodnight. Jerry answered the phone. He said, "Gloria we are having a precious time of devotions with LaShawn and LaDawn. Here, I'll let you talk to them. Oh, Gloria, can I share with you the two scriptures that we were just reading?" I replied, "Please do. I could use them right now."

He read Philippians 4:6,7 to me: "Be careful for nothing; but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known unto God. And the peace of God, which passeth all understanding, shall keep your hearts and minds through Christ Jesus." That was just what I needed. After I got off the phone with LaShawn and LaDawn, I prayed, "Lord, I need to praise You in all of this, and I'm making my request for victory tomorrow. Lord, give me Your peace which passes all understanding. Goodnight, Lord!"

 
 
I didn't really need to hear the alarm clock ring the next morning because I was already awake. I hadn't slept much during the night. I had been praying that the Lord would take the fear of the unknown from Larry's mind and heart. I was also praying that God would give the doctors wisdom and carefully guide their hands in surgery. I sensed the force of my prayers in an unusual way. I knew people everywhere were praying and that God was answering their prayers, so even though my body was shaky from fatigue I felt calm and stable in the Lord.

I hurriedly dressed because I wanted to get to the hospital before Larry went to surgery at 7:30 AM. This time Bill Simmons, our steel guitarist and good friend, took me to the hospital. On the way I prayed frantically, "Lord, I'm expecting a miracle report, yet I'm a little scared. Please help me to accept Your will-whatever it is-and help me to be strong and fully trusting in You."

Bill and I were met at the elevator by Bruce Schoeman. We went up to the fifth floor and entered Larry's room, only to find it empty. He was already being prepared for surgery. A nurse escorted us to the waiting room where Bruce read uplifting passages from God's Word to encourage me and ease my spirit. (We love and appreciate both Bruce and Bill's Christian love and ministry of encouragement.)

 
 
At 10:40 AM I was walking up and down the halls, too edgy to sit quietly in the waiting room. My heart went out to all of the critically ill people in the rooms I passed. So many patients looked as though life was going to be cut short for them. A nurse wheeled a darling little baby girl by me in a crib. She was about three months old, and there were sharp needles inserted in several places on her tiny body. Oh, I felt so helpless! How I wished that I could help her!

Down the hall to the left, a young man sat quietly in a wheelchair. I was told that he was 17 years old and had been a professional hockey player until he was injured in a car accident during the Christmas holidays. Now he's paralyzed from the waist down. Trying to imagine some of the thoughts and fears that must run through his mind, I prayed, "Lord, help him to find the courage and strength he needs to start a whole new way of life. Help him to not be bitter toward You."

There were many cancer patients on that floor, and I not only sensed the nearness of death for many of them but the anxiety and pain of their loved ones who live and die with them through their ups and downs. I was reminded again to give thanks to the Lord for the good health He has given our families. I also thanked God for His presence and the renewed strength He was giving Larry and me in our trial.

 

At 11:00 AM, a nurse told Bruce, Bill and me that Larry would return from the recovery in a few minutes, but the doctor wanted to see me in his office first. My heart pounded as anxiety rose within me, yet I felt an inner peace. I knew that Lowell and all of the team members were praying, believing that God would perform a miracle. I was impressed by their faith and unity in prayer. They wouldn't let any fears or doubts make them waver in prayer.

 
 
Bill and I walked up to Dr. Waite's office, filled with mixed emotions. My great expectations made me more nervous than ever, so I breathed the prayer, "Lord, give me peace of mind!"

Forty-five minutes later I sang inwardly, "Bless the Lord, O my soul: and all that is within me, bless his holy name. Bless the Lord, O my soul, and forget not all his benefits: who forgiveth all thine iniquities; who healeth all thy diseases..."(Psalm 103:1-3). The surgery was a success! The pressure of anxiety that had even constricted my breathing was gone, and I happily breathed in whole mouthfuls of air.

Dr. Waite was called out, so the doctors who assisted him in surgery informed me, "Mrs. Lundstrom, Larry responded very well and the results of the surgery were much better than we had expected." The words "miracle" and "answered prayer" were melodic joy bells ringing in my mind. I knew the Great Physician had entered the operating room ahead of those excellent surgeons and set the stage for a miracle. The surgery was such a success that they didn't have to take any bone from Larry's hip to rebuild his jaw. Part of his jawbone was removed but not enough to necessitate rebuilding it. Dr. Waite worked around it, believing it would heal and be strong enough so that he didn't have to wire Larry's mouth shut and insert a tube for drainage.

The doctors explained that the growth in Larry's mouth was a Pinborg tumor, which is a very rare type. There's only a 25-percent chance of its growing back. I was told that Dr. Waite had to cut into two critical nerves in Larry's mouth, one near the tongue and one next to the lower lip. I was also reminded that Larry's tongue and lip would be numb for a period of six months to a year.

The doctors informed me that Larry would come out of the recovery room so heavily sedated that he probably wouldn't wake up until late in the evening and probably wouldn't respond until morning. They said he would be bleeding excessively and his face would swell to double its size. His lips would bulge, split and bleed. He would be in extreme pain because his head had literally been pulled, jerked, cut and stitched from the back of the right side of the lower jaw to the middle of the lower lip and gumline.

The doctors added that he would be in the hospital for three or four days if all went well and longer if not. He wouldn't be able to eat solids, just liquids through a straw for the first three days and then blended foods for the next several days. He wouldn't eat or talk much for a month because of the pain and discomfort.

 

Even after all of those warnings, I was relieved to know the surgical ordeal was over, the tumor was out and Larry was back on the road to health. As he was wheeled into his room, I anxiously went up to him. Larry was trying desperately to open his eyes. Finally he focused me in and held out his hand, whispering weakly, "Am I okay? What did they do?" I could tell by the grasp of his hand on mine that he feared the unknown and was fighting to remain conscious long enough to hear my reply.

I said, "Larry, the surgery went great! It's all over! The doctors are confident that they've removed all of the tumor cells and all of the area that could have been exposed to the tumor. Praise God! They didn't have to remove any bone from your hip to rebuild the jaw and, as you can tell, they didn't have to wire your mouth shut! Larry, God answered our prayers and the prayers of all our friends."

A smile broke across his face and he whispered, "Honey, I love you. I'm sure glad it's all over." With that, he closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep. He woke up about ten minutes later when a nurse brought in a beautiful plant. She smiled and said, "Mrs. Lundstrom, this is for your husband." Larry looked up and inquired, "Who's it from?" I opened the dainty card, and on it was written "Speedy recovery! We are praying for you!-Jim & Tammy Bakker and the PTL staff." This thoughtful gift lifted our hearts. We were thrilled to know that when we are hurting, Christian friends care and lift us up before the throne of God.

 
 
Only half an hour had gone by since Larry was wheeled in from the recovery room, and he was already talking. Then another miracle happened. Larry said urgently, "Gloria! Gloria!" I asked, "What's wrong, Larry?" and he exclaimed ecstatically, "I can feel my lip! I can feel it!" He was gingerly touching it with his teeth. His excitement grew and he announced, "Hey, I have feeling in my tongue! It's not numb!" He sat straight up and grinned from ear to ear.

Then, with his lips swollen twice their size, he squeaked out a line of his song, "It's great to be a Christian." He said, "Hey, I can sing, too!" The trauma of the whole ordeal was instantly released when I heard him sing that line and saw the look of relief and joy written all over his face. Bruce, Bill and I laughed and shouted, "Praise God! Larry's on the mend. He's going to be okay."

 

Concern flickered in Bruce's eyes. "Gloria," he said, "we'd better do something about that swelling right now." Larry's face was puffing up. Bruce quickly uncovered the ice water container on a nearby table and suggested, "Let's take these ice cubes and carefully massage Larry's face to cool it down and help stop the swelling." Larry had already had cortisone and other medications injected into his veins to help minimize the swelling and pain, but they weren't completely effective.

For the next hour and a half, Bruce and I cooled Larry's face with ice chips, and the swelling completely disappeared. Fifteen minutes later a nurse walked in, looked at Larry in disbelief and exclaimed, "Why you look great! You're wide awake, already talking, and your swelling has gone down. By this time your face should be twice its normal size. You're lucky!" I reflected, "God and the ice packs are working, not luck!"

 

At 2:00 PM, Dr. Waite walked into the room, put his arm around me and asked, "How are you doing, Mrs. Lundstrom?" I replied, "Great!" Then he looked at Larry and said in amazement, "You look fantastic! If I hadn't done the surgery myself, I wouldn't have believed that you've just returned from surgery."

He added, "Larry, I want to thank you for leading the other doctors, staff and myself in prayer before the surgery, asking God to impart wisdom and guide our hands. By the outcome of your surgery, I'd say your prayers were answered. You two are a very unique couple. Tell me about your lifestyle."

We gladly shared what Christ had done for us down through the years. We told Dr. Waite that the reason we travel is to help lead people to Christ, rebuild broken homes, encourage the discouraged and motivate people to find a real purpose for living. He seemed to be moved by our testimony. Then he remarked, "Larry, I hate to tell you this, but your tongue and bottom lip will be numb for at least six months." Larry quickly responded, "Hey Doc, I have feeling in my tongue and lip. Nothing's numb!" The doctor asked in astonishment, "Are you sure?" Larry said, "Of course I'm sure!"

 

Well, despite all of the earlier warnings that Larry would be flat on his back, heavily sedated and almost immobile, Larry improved so rapidly that I could hardly keep up with him. After a few minutes Larry commanded, "Gloria, get my robe." Puzzled, I replied, "What for?" He said impatiently, "Get my robe. I'm going for a walk." I said, "You can't go for a walk. You have IV's attached to your arm with needles!" He replied, "That's all right." He threw his legs over the edge of the bed, grabbed the stand supporting the bottles and walked out of the room. I stood there, almost in shock. I couldn't believe my eyes. Then I ran after him.

He was heading down the long hall toward the nurses' station where two of his doctors were standing. They turned around and stared at Larry. One of them burst out, "What on earth are you doing out of bed? You're supposed to be all laid up!" Larry laughingly replied, "I feel great, just great! When's dinner?" (He was talking plainly; even the squeak in his voice was gone.) The doctor joked, "What do you have on your hands, Mrs. Lundstrom-a superman?" I responded, "I'm beginning to wonder!" Dr. Martin interjected, "If Larry was a normal person, he'd be flat on his back for at least two days. Here he's only been out of recovery for three hours and he's talking, laughing and walking. He doesn't have any pain or swelling and he wants to eat!

Larry walked back to the room, propped himself up in bed and started teasing the nurses. Then I knew for sure that he was recovering! Two more hours passed and Larry was still asking for food to eat, but the nurses would stall him, "Sorry, our instructions specify, 'Liquids only, through a straw.'"

At 5:15 PM, Charlotte (a born-again nurse) checked to see how Larry was doing. To say the least, she was surprised by his progress. Larry asked, "Couldn't you please bring me something to eat? I'm starving to death!" She laughed and consented. "I guess you're doing so well that I could bring you a tray of soft food-maybe broth or a poached egg." Larry chimed in, "Good. How about a side order of steak?"

An hour later, when Larry lifted the cover of the food tray, he was shocked but delighted to find that he'd received the wrong tray. Under his nose was a complete turkey dinner with all the trimmings. I objected, "Larry you can't eat that!" but he shushed me and whispered, "Don't say anything."

You guessed it. He ate the whole thing. Just as he was finished, Dr. Martin walked in, caught him shoving the last forkful of turkey into his mouth and said, "Hey, now what are you doing?" Larry grinned mischievously, " I just had a full-course turkey dinner. Now, when do we really eat?" The doctor shook his head and chuckled, "I really can't believe what I'm seeing..." Larry interrupted, "Doc, I feel great! Nothing's wrong with me. I plan to leave for Denver tomorrow morning. I'm going to call my brother, Lowell, and tell him he doesn't need to get a replacement for me. We've got to get those busses rolling!" The doctor laughed and walked out of the room. This was getting to be too much for me. I looked at Larry and teased, "Larry, why don't' you get out of bed, sit in this chair and let me get into bed? You're in better shape than I am!"

 
 
Lowell called from Washington, D.C., at 7:00 PM and was surprised that Larry answered the phone. He was relieved to hear that the surgery was a success. They visited and had some good laughs together. It's always touching to see the bond of love between two brothers.

Half an hour later, Londa and several of the other team members brought flowers to Larry. They kidded, "We thought we were going to find you deathly sick. You look healthier than we do!" They exploded in laughter.

By 8:00 PM, the team and staff members had gone and I was sitting by Larry's bed, still dumbfounded by his rapid recovery and the extent of God's marvelous answer to prayer. The wife of the man who was lying in the other bed was even more bewildered. Her husband had gone in for surgery at the same time Larry had, but he hadn't even recovered from the anesthetic. "That's a miracle!" she whispered. "I can't believe my eyes. My husband isn't even awake yet!" I replied sympathetically, "Yes, Jessie. You're seeing a miracle of God. Larry and I asked God for this miracle and He's granted it."

Larry made several phone calls, arranging to get our family back together, have the bus refueled and serviced and be on the road by 1:30 the next afternoon "as scheduled".

At 8:30 PM, a doctor checked Larry and assured him, "You're as healthy as a horse. I see no reason why you can't leave tomorrow if you're careful and if you don't contract another infection. I'll call a doctor in Denver and set up an appointment for you on Monday. The packing and dressing in your mouth will have to be changed. Right now you need to get a good night's rest, and we'll talk again in the morning."

At 9:00 PM, I drove over to the McClures to tell LaShawn and LaDawn the good news and love them up. LaShawn grasped my hand and said, "See, Mom? I told you there was nothing to worry about. God always takes care of us!"

 
 
At 1:30 PM, the next day, Thursday, January 29th, I finished recording at Sound 80 Studios and drove over to the hospital. Larry was anxiously waiting to be picked up. We drove across town to our publications office where our bus was parked and picked up our girls. Then we packed our things back into the bus and were on our way.

Oops, not yet! Larry shouted, "Hey, wait a minute! I forgot to sign out of the hospital!" I panicked, "You what? You mean you just put your clothes on and walked out?" He replied, "Yeah! I was so anxious to get out of there and I was so busy talking that I forgot to sign the legal forms to be released." Spontaneous laughter broke out in the bus. Larry ran back into the office and called the hospital checkout clerk to apologize for what had happened. He explained that Bruce Schoeman would return to take care of the details. Warding off any possibility that he'd be asked to return and sign out himself, he quickly added, "I'm heading for Denver right now, nonstop!" Away we went, only lingered in St. Cloud, Minnesota, long enough to pick up Lee Donovan.

On Friday, January 30th, we were rolling down the highway en route to Denver, Colorado. We were safe and sound, snuggled in our cozy bus again. I'd slept well on Thursday night, comforted that Larry was by my side and our family was together again.

 
The Lord gave me many precious promises to hold onto during this struggle, and all of them are important. Best of all, He showed me the power and purpose of prayer. When people join their hearts in prayer, believing God's promises, He honors their faith even when the faith of His suffering children falters. He answers prayer in His own way and in His own time so that He may be lifted up and glorified.

In Hebrews 13:5, we have the Lord's promise that He will never forsake us. His grace is sufficient for us, for His strength is made perfect in our weakness (See 2 Corinthians 12:9). God knows our inner hurt, frustration, pain, fear, bitterness and whatever other problems we face.

 

My struggle only lasted two weeks, but they were two of the longest and most difficult weeks of my entire life. I'm sure this won't be my last struggle, but because of this experience my heart goes out to all of you who are going through trials of faith right now. Maybe you've been struggling for days, weeks, months or even years. I want to encourage you. Keep holding onto God's promises. You may feel that no one understand you and you're hurting or lonely, but Jesus loves you and He cares! "Cast all your cares upon him, for he careth for you" (1 Peter 5:7)

If you're going through a struggle, please write and let us join in prayer for you or your loved ones. We want to lift your burden to the throne of God in prayer, believing that God will bring victory your way. To all of you who have prayed for us over the years, I want to thank you! May God bless you richly!

 
Gloria
 
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