Reconcile Magazine March 2019

knowing how it stung and hurt her when I had wipe down her fresh incision. It made her cry too. My brother and I
couldn't bring ourselves to eat in front of her because she couldn't have food. Denise also had to go in for a procedure
where they would vacuum out her lungs as well, which was tricky because her body was weak and it was hard for her
to recover from the anesthesia. I could go on and on about the hell of this disease, but the purpose of sharing this is to
focus on the love and kindness all around her and on one day in particular.
I was fortunate enough to have a front row seat to see love personified. I saw a community come together to love
and give to a dying young woman. On a Saturday in late April of that year, there was an Angel Poker Run, a dinner, and
an auction to honor Denise and to raise money to help with her medical expenses. Motorcyclists from all over came to
the event along with family and friends. Before we left for the venue with her, a large parade of men and women riding
motorcycles rode through the neighborhood and parked for a short while right in front of my sister's house. Every rider
gathered in the front yard and they presented her with a huge bouquet of flowers. Each one came up to give her hugs
and encouragement before heading downtown where the dinner and auction would be held. The doctors advised Denise
not to go, but if she insisted, she could only stay a few minutes, but that's not how she rolled.
When we arrived, there was a huge buffet and music for dancing. Before the event got underway, the guest of
honor, Denise, wanted to read something from her heart that I had to transcribe for her because her arms and hands had
already betrayed her. She was introduced, went up on the stage, stood before the mic and read from that piece of paper.
You could have heard a pin drop and yet no one, including those closest to her, could understand one word she said, but
everyone listened to her heart and understood it perfectly. There wasn't a dry eye in the place when she ended with “I
love you.” Those three mumbled words were obvious. What was on that page was beautiful and heartfelt, and she
spoke it so eloquently it touched every soul in that room. After that, there was thunderous applause amid tears.
The auction itself was like none I've ever seen before. Many people donated items to be auctioned off and that was a
gift in itself, but there was so much more. One man bid on some golf balls and paid a handsome price for them and
won. When the auctioneer tried to give them to the winner, he said, “I don't even golf. Let me donate those to be bid on
again”. That was the first of many items like that. People would buy items they bid on and won, pay for them and then
donate them back to give someone else a chance to win them knowing that that money would also go for the cause.
There were also a number of people that did win items and immediately took their prize and walked them directly over
my sister and laid them on the table before her. I think she ended up with maybe a third of all the items won that were
given to her to enjoy personally.
Denny didn't obey her doctor's orders and stayed most of the night so that she could be with those that showed her
so much love on that amazing day. There was a spirit of giving and love that was so thick you could feel it that started
even before the parade in front of her house and culminated long after that night was over. There is great power when a
community comes together and becomes love for someone that needs it. Denise lost her battle on June 8, 2004, merely
five months after her first symptom surfaced. Just remembering that day envelops me in that overwhelming power of
love. Love, Himself, made us and moves us to do amazing things.
By Melodie A. Moss, Author of Life After Brokenness: A Ministry Guide for Trauma Victims that Dissociate
DID – SRA – PTSD - Mind Control Programming Click Here for more information.
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