Then you will call, and the LORD will answer; You will cry, and He will say, “Here I am.”~Isaiah 58:9


The setting was in the winter of 1948 to 1949. I had recently completed my internship at what is now known as Loma Linda University School of Medicine and had entered the Army as a way to pay back my medical education. I was living in a small rental house near Camp Breckenridge, Kentucky. I served in a station hospital, which consisted of a series of Army barracks joined by a boardwalk.

While I was on call in the emergency department one night, Sheila, a little two-year-old girl, the same age as my own little girl, was admitted, very ill. I quickly diagnosed meningitis and called the neurologist to take over her care. They soon confirmed the diagnosis of meningococcal meningitis, a very serious bacterial infection of the brain and spinal cord, and began treatment. The next day the child was comatose.

Her care consisted of an oxygen tent and antibiotic infusions. She was placed on my ward, even though I was not caring for her. This required me to be the link between the neurologists and the child’s parents. I would report to her parents every day.

Every night I would spend a period of time in prayer for her, but she continued to deteriorate. After about three days, I had to tell the parents that, barring a miracle, their little girl would not survive the night. Her vital signs were almost nonexistent-it seemed to me that the specialists had given up on her.

Thar night, I prayed continuously until 11p.m., pleading with God for her healing. Exhausted, I fell into bed. At 3 a.m., I was awakened by an audible command, “Get up; pray!” I rushed downstairs, fell on my knees in front of our coal heater, and pleaded with the Lord. “You called me. My guardian angel audibly commanded me to pray. I know You will answer my prayer!” At 3:30 a.m., my burden lifted, and I knew God had answered.

The next day I went to my ward fully expecting to find Sheila still alive in her oxygen tent-but improved. I quickly turned toward the tent. She was gone and the tent was folded up against the wall. Heartbroken, I turned to the nurses and asked, “When did Sheila die?”

“She’s not dead!” they responded. I whipped out her chart: “3 a.m.-Vital signs barely perceptible. 3:30 a.m.-Child opened her eyes and sat up in bed.” She was completely well. “Where is she now?” I asked. “Back in the pediatric room, in her crib,” they said. We fed her and observed her for another day before she was sent home.

I am forever and profoundly grateful for this miracle in answer to my prayer.

-Stanly (Jack) Wheeler, CME class of 1947, is a retired family practitioner residing in Denver, Colorado. He spent over 15 years working in Adventist medical institutions, both denominational and self-supporting ministries. He then continued a “lifestyle change” mode of practice until his retirement.