‘I Was Dying Until God Spoke and Healing Came’ How to Activate Your Miracle

Excerpted from Unlocking Heaven’s Truth.

Sometimes in life, we face impossible situations—places where we either give up or hang on by a thread.

My story is a mix of miracles and healing, two very different experiences that have shaped my journey through illness, faith, and trust in God. In this chapter, I share my moments of supernatural intervention and the daily challenges of simply staying alive.

Looking back on my experiences in the supernatural, I see my story fall into two categories: the miraculous and the healing process. The miraculous part includes moments like dying and seeing the Lord—powerful, immediate encounters with His presence. But there’s also the day-in, day-out healing process where I had to trust God, not just once but repeatedly.

I told you about being in the middle of a dialysis session when I heard the Holy Spirit speak to me. I was hooked on the machine and knew it was God. I knew it was time to go.

I had been in that chair for less than 30 minutes, feeling the adrenaline rush that always comes at the start of treatment. That first rush would spike for about 45 minutes, and I would eventually fall asleep from exhaustion. But this time, something felt different.

God’s Voice

People often ask me, “How did you know it was God’s voice? Was it like a booming voice from heaven?” Honestly, it wasn’t anything like that.

God’s voice was so clear. That’s not something you imagine or tell yourself lightly. It was an inner knowing, and I had learned to recognize it through years of trusting Him. It wasn’t an audible voice, but it felt as clear as someone speaking to me. Over time, I learned to discern His voice through the scriptures and quiet moments of prayer. That knowing developed after a year of intentionally filling myself with God’s promises, especially what the Bible says about healing.

I wasn’t just sitting at home with all the time in the world to soak in the Word of God. Life continued around me—I needed to take care of kids and get them to school, and daily tasks demanded my attention. It was exhausting. I constantly had to choose between being a mother and a patient, and there were so many days when I just wanted to give up.

I had dialysis runs starting at 5 a.m. that lasted almost four hours, which meant rushing to get my kids to school right afterward, often resulting in them arriving late. I remember the parent-teacher conferences about their tardiness and how I struggled to balance everything.

Sometimes I’d switch to the second shift but often arrive late, cutting into my treatment time, which I could never get back. The staff told me, “You can’t keep cutting your sessions short.” It was a constant battle between survival and living.

Life didn’t pause because of my health. Despite the chaos, I made time for God’s Word because I had to—it was a matter of life and death. I needed to hear God’s voice to survive.

I’ve said this, but it bears repeating—healing doesn’t always happen instantly. Sometimes, it’s a process that requires patience, resilience, and trust in God’s timing. While we often pray for miracles, we should also learn to value the slower, daily work of healing God does in our lives. Both are expressions of His love, requiring us to lean on Him.

Learning to hear God’s voice takes effort, time, practice, and intimacy with Him. Immersing myself in God’s Word allowed me to discern His voice in critical moments. Building trust with God is an investment, just like any relationship. If you want to hear Him in the big moments, you must start by listening in the small ones.

Even when we are facing our crises, life’s responsibilities don’t stop. In these moments God’s grace becomes most evident. I learned His strength was sufficient for me, helping me do what I couldn’t do alone. If you’re feeling overwhelmed by everything you have to carry, you don’t have to do it all perfectly. God will carry you through. While hearing God’s voice guided me spiritually, there were practical challenges I faced every day.

God’s Prompting

Dialysis itself was brutal. After the adrenaline rush I mentioned that comes in the first 45 minutes, my body gave in to exhaustion. I sat in a chair for almost four hours, with strangers next to me lined up against the wall with no privacy—nothing but chairs, machines, and people sharing this strange, painful journey.

The more experienced patients would offer tips to the new ones. “Bring your favorite blanket and socks,” they’d say. “You’ll get cold.” It wasn’t the nurses; we were helping each other get through it. We were all in the same boat, facing the same struggles, and that built a strange sense of community. I met people I never would have known otherwise, like the man from India who sat next to me. He had a strong accent, and we often talked about God. He believed there were many ways to God, but I was firm. I would tell him, “No, there’s only one way.” It was so important to share what I knew with him because, in the end, if he didn’t know Jesus, he wouldn’t make it to heaven. Many deep conversations stayed with me even after he was gone.

Suffering has a way of bringing people together and creating unexpected bonds. The room was lined with chairs, each paired with a machine, and we faced each other. I remember watching people next to me—some swollen with fluid, others who had lost limbs to diabetes. For the new patients, it was hard, and we all knew it.

The process was taxing, and it was clear how much it took from everyone. In those dialysis chairs, we weren’t just patients— we became advocates for one another, forming a community that sustained us in the hardest moments. We were all in it together, facing our battles. We supported each other, and that sense of community was a lifeline. It reminded me that we’re not meant to go through hardships alone—God designed us to lean on each other. When we choose to share our heartaches, we find strength and hope.

I lost friends during that time—people whose lives ended while I was still there. It was hard because we were sharing our fears and stories every day, and then, suddenly, they just weren’t there anymore.

I’ll never forget the day I came in, and my friend from India wasn’t there. I immediately noticed the flowers at the nurses’ station. His family had sent them to thank the staff for caring for him, and it broke my heart. In that room, we didn’t just share our struggles—we also shared our losses. It taught me how important it is to cherish every moment with the people God brings into my life because we never know how much time we have.

Life and Death Decisions

When it was my turn to face a critical decision, I had to rely on the Holy Spirit for guidance. After my kidney transplant, I felt my body failing again, and at a follow-up appointment, the doctors told me I had half the amount of blood I needed.

In the middle of a snowstorm—not long after they gave me that news—Joseph had to rush me to the Heart Health Center. I remember slumping over in the car, feeling myself fading. Joseph pushed me through the snow in a wheelchair, yelling, “Hang on, Heather! Just a little longer.”

I was barely conscious. Thank God he had a new truck because the snowbank at the end of our driveway stood taller than my desk. He was able to drive up and over it. It took every- thing I had to stay awake and hold on to his voice!

When we got there, they checked my blood. My hemoglobin was at five. I had half the blood I needed in my body, and they told me, “If we have to operate, you’ll die. You don’t have enough blood to survive a surgery.”

They wanted to give me a blood transfusion, and all I could think of was the warning I’d been given. My friend from India had warned, “If they offer you a blood transfusion, don’t take it. It could change your blood and make you ineligible for a trans- plant.” He spoke from experience—he’d had a kidney transplant, and after a transfusion, his body rejected it. He ended up back in that chair for life. That thought terrified me, and I wasn’t ready to make the decision lightly.

I was weak, had no color in my face, and my body was barely holding on. The doctors explained that if my organs started to shut down, there was nothing they could do to save me. They brought in specialists, and I asked the doctors every question I could think of. I needed to know if this was the right choice.

Joseph and I prayed, considered our options, and asked God for wisdom. After two days of praying, we decided I should have the transfusion. I felt peace about it and knew that was God’s answer. It was still terrifying. I ended up receiving multiple bags of blood, and I had to be my own advocate the whole time.

This was the time they had placed a blood pressure cuff over my IV needle, and every time it squeezed, it felt like my arm was on fire. I begged them to move it to my leg. When you’re desperate, you get creative. You learn to speak up for yourself, and I did. Eventually, they moved it, and I finally got some relief.

Advocating for yourself is crucial, especially when you’re vulnerable. No one knows your body like you do, and God gives us the wisdom to speak up when needed. In times of hardship, it’s vital to trust the instincts God has placed in you and fight for the care you need.

I could only trust God’s guidance in those moments of life and death. I knew that my life depended on making the right decision; the only way I could do that was by depending on God’s wisdom.

Faith isn’t just about trusting God in the abstract—it’s about bringing every choice, fear, and question to Him.