Della Edmonds

Many years ago, in the state of Kansas, Fred and Della Edmonds were comfortably situated on a wheat ranch. Things were coming their way. Della’s father, a prosperous man in the community, had given them the ranch and a new home as a wedding present. For seven years they had enjoyed their surroundings where love prevailed. Then tragedy struck! Della tells what happened:

I was fast going to the grave with tuberculosis and cancer, Della testified. I had been under the care of specialists but continued to grow worse. I had tried different climates—Southern California, New Mexico and other places—at their suggestion. They had nothing else to offer. When this failed, I returned to Kansas, wanting to die at home.

And another fear I had was that I knew I was not ready to meet God.

My sisters and brothers told me to go to the hospital in Rochester, Minnesota, to be operated on, but something in my heart said, “If you go there they will ship you back a corpse, and your three little girls will be left without a mother.” For a time I was undecided as to what to do and thought maybe I should go. I had lost 14 of my people, including my mother and father, with one of these diseases, and I dreaded them. And another fear I had was that I knew I was not ready to meet God.

Gradually I grew weaker and weaker and sometimes I would be in a coma. As my husband viewed my helpless condition, he would often go into the next room where our three babies were sleeping, and would tear his hair in grief and cry out, “Without a mother, they will never have a chance.”

My husband told a little woman of his sorrow, and this woman yearned to offer him some comfort. She told him that her sister had been writing to a church in Portland, Oregon, where there were devout people. She said, “They are a peculiar people; they pray for the sick, and the sick get well.” And she added, “Would you mind if I wrote to my sister and asked her to have those people pray for your wife?” Of course, he did not mind.

A few days later, my husband was preparing to go out to the field, when something miraculous happened to me. I walked into the kitchen and told him, “Someone has prayed for me and I am healed!” At first he thought that my suffering had caused me to lose my mind, but I persuaded him that I was feeling well.

Later that day, as he returned from the field, he saw a big washing on the line and thought some kind neighbor had come in to help me. But to his surprise he found that I had done the washing and was preparing our dinner.

I prayed, “God, You have healed my body; You have given me health that nothing in the world could have given me; and now, You save my soul!”

A few days later I meditated on the love of God: to think that He would visit our home and heal me even though we were not serving Him! I shook the dishwater from my hands and dropped on my knees in the kitchen and offered my life to Him if He would come into my heart and make me a true Christian. I prayed, “God, You have healed my body; You have given me health that nothing in the world could have given me; and now, You save my soul!” He did just that, came into my heart and gave me rest in my soul. How the joy bells rang in my heart! From that time on everything has been worthwhile. How wonderful it is to have peace with God!

When I met my husband at the door that evening, I told him what God had done for me. Bewildered with such strange news, he answered, “Well, that’s fine! I’ll never lay a straw in your way—just don’t bother me with it!”

Bother him with it? No, I did not. But each day I would kneel with my three little girls and we would pray for him. More than that, I wrote to the church in Portland, asking united prayer for him. When Holy Ghost conviction seized him, he tried to fight against the feeling that he, too, should give God his life. He even got up in the middle of the night, and took his tractor out to work in the field. When daylight came, he drove himself, working beyond his strength, wondering how it would all end.

Then one day, he gave up. On his knees in his wheat field, he cried to the Lord for mercy. And oh, the mercy and love of God that showered upon the penitent soul! He was born again, and what rejoicing was ours!

And oh, the mercy and love of God that showered upon the penitent soul!

But my story does not end in Kansas. We longed to come to Portland. Another request for prayer was sent across the mountains: “Pray that God will send us a buyer so that we can go to Oregon.” And one day a buyer came right to our door. Prayer was answered! The house and farm were sold, our belongings were auctioned, and soon we boarded a train for Portland.

I had once said, “If we could only go to Portland, I would not care if we had to live in a tent.” We arrived and with no place to live, were offered a tent on the campground of the Apostolic Faith Church. We lived there through sunshine, rain and snow for a year. But God has more than repaid us for every sacrifice we have made to be among His people.

It is a privilege to trust the Lord for the body as well as for the soul. I praise Him from the depths of my heart that He has kept me all these years and I love Him better every day. My desire is to be ready for the mighty Rapture of the Church that we are looking forward to.