Have you ever experienced so much pain on one day that you never wanted to face that date on the calendar again?
I know I have.
And I’m sure you have too.
April 17th, 2007 marked an unexpected blow that could have ended it all, but God had other plans.
As a 20-year-old junior at Oral Roberts University, I could never have imagined what was about to unfold in my life.
This is my story.
An Easter Sunday I’ll Never Forget
On Easter Sunday, April 8, 2007, I woke out of my sleep coughing up blood. I had no idea what was wrong, and honestly, I went back to sleep without thinking much of it. When I woke up later that morning, I still wasn’t feeling my best — but it was Easter Sunday, so I pressed on to church.
During the service, the pastor said, “Turn to your neighbor and tell them what you’re thankful for!”
I smiled, turned to my neighbor, and said, “I’m thankful to be healthy and not in the hospital!”
Little did I know, everything was about to unravel.
Throughout that day, I noticed small traces of blood in my hands each time I coughed. I called my parents, and they encouraged me to see a nurse. As the days passed and the cough grew worse, a friend drove me to a nearby hospital. We waited through the night in the ER — exhausted, uncertain, and hoping for answers.
The next morning, I finally saw a doctor and got a CT scan. When he returned to my room, his expression told me everything before his words did. He said I had a mass in my lung that needed to be removed immediately — and that I needed to call my parents right away.
My eyes filled with tears. My voice quivered as I dialed my mom’s number.
I’m very sick. I need to come home.
That was the most difficult phone call I had ever made. I felt sad. I felt sorry. I felt broken. My parents rushed from Texas to Tulsa that same day and took me home to Plano for surgery.
“I Promise to Take Care of You the Way I’d Take Care of Her”
Once in Texas, further examination confirmed the worst — the mass was large and serious. Surgery had to happen immediately. But in the midst of that uncertainty, something unexpected settled over me: peace. A deep, overwhelming, peace from God. In the months before my diagnosis, I had walked through a quiet but grueling season of pruning and restoration. I hadn’t known why at the time. Now I understood — I was being spiritually prepared for this battle.
Before surgery, I asked my doctor if I’d be able to go home soon. I’ll never forget what happened next. He sat on the edge of my bed, took off his glasses, and looked at me intently.
“No, Emonne. You won’t be going home next week. You’re going to need time to recover. Tomorrow, I will do my best to make sure you come out just fine. I have a daughter of my own, and I promise to take care of you the way I would take care of her. I promise to make your incision in a place where it won’t show through your bathing suit in the summer.”
That’s when I knew Dr. Quinn — affectionately nicknamed “DQ” — was my guy.
And sure enough, he kept his word.
Cut Where it Won’t Show
I've got to pause right here and say this— I feel the weight of “cut where it won’t show.”
Don’t we all have scars like that? God has a way of causing us not to look like all that we’ve been through.
The Morning of Surgery
The next morning was surgery day.
As I watched the news, images from the Virginia Tech shooting filled the screen. What is the world coming to? I thought, as they wheeled me away from my parents and through the operating room doors. In that moment, I had no other choice but to trust God completely.
I held my small leather Bible close by. A Christian nurse who was assigned to my care noticed it resting on my lap and leaned in close. “Everything is going to be just fine,” she said. “God is going to take care of you.” It was her last day at the hospital. I have always believed God kept her there just for me.
On the operating table, surrounded by cold white walls and gleaming silver instruments, I asked the doctor to place my Bible beside me. He agreed. I said a prayer as the anesthesia flowed through my veins, and I drifted off to sleep.
When I woke up, there were breathing tubes in my nose and I was desperately thirsty. The moment I tried to move to get a nurse’s attention, the pain hit me like a wall of bricks — sudden and overwhelming. The nurse appeared almost immediately and brought me a small cup of ice chips. I’d never tasted something more refreshing.
Learning to Walk Again
Over the next week, I had to relearn everything — how to walk, talk, eat, and drink. For the first few days, I lay in the hospital bed with a drainage tube in my side, a catheter, and large compression boots on my legs to keep my circulation moving. Every few hours, I breathed into a small machine to help rebuild my lung capacity, one slow breath at a time.
My parents never stopped believing God for my healing. My dad would hold my arm and walk me down the hospital hallway, steadying me as I worked to get my strength back. I had no way of knowing then that two years later, he would walk me down another hallway — this one lined with flowers and the faces of people who loved us — to the man who would walk beside me as my husband and the father of my children.
The nurses had a goal for me: walk down the hall to the windows and back, and I could go home. I was determined, even when progress felt agonizingly slow.
The day I finally walked out of that hospital and heard birds singing in the spring air, tears rolled down my face.
I was alive.
I was deeply aware — in a way you can only understand if you’ve stood in that place — that many people don’t make it through this. But God’s mercy kept me.
The Attack on My Voice
Recovery stretched on for months. I walked bent to one side, my body compensating for the pain of the incision. Standing fully upright was too much. And as a result of a bronchoscopy procedure before the surgery, my vocal cords had been slightly damaged. For nearly seven months, I could only speak in a faint whisper. I would open my mouth and almost nothing would come out. It was humbling. It was uncomfortable. And at times, it felt like the enemy was taking his best shots to silence me.
But God was for me.
I stayed in constant prayer. I guarded what I allowed into my heart and spirit — choosing only what would strengthen my faith and protect my peace. I was guarding my gates.
Everything in me was tested that season. My faith. My health. My trust. My hope. And so much more.
Looking back now, I believe the attack on my voice was never intentional. It was an indicator of the power my voice would one day carry and the purpose God had placed inside me.
Without the test, there is no testimony.
From Mourning Into Dancing
In time, my voice was fully restored. My body healed. And what had begun as the most painful chapter of my life bloomed into one of the most beautiful.
Only God can take your worst day on the calendar and turn it into the first day of your annual season of celebration.
From that day forward, God began to show up for me in April in the most intentional ways — as if writing love notes into the very calendar month I once dreaded. The sweetest reminders of His resurrection power at work.
On April 26th, just two years after my lung surgery, my father walked me down the aisle to marry my husband Stephan. I wore a white lace dress with pearls hand sewn by my grandmothers, my mother’s pearl-scalloped wedding veil, and my grandmother’s pearl necklace. As I’m writing this, I see the significance of the pearls — beauty produced in the process of time and irritation.
On April 25th, two years after my wedding, I was in the hospital again, but this time to give birth to our firstborn child, Grace, the day after Easter Sunday.
The same month that almost took everything became the month where everything began.
So every year on April 17th, I give God praise and honor and glory for giving me life — and for turning my April from mourning into dancing.
I bless God every chance I get; my lungs expand with His praise. — Psalm 34:1 MSG
Three Words of Encouragement for You
As I’ve shared my story today, I pray your faith is encouraged and your endurance through whatever season you’re in is strengthened. Before we go, I want to leave you with three things I know to be true:
1. Whatever has been under direct attack in your life may be an indication of an area of divine purpose.
2. Weapons will be formed, but God has the final say. It’s not over until God says it’s over.
3. God will make ALL things work together for your good. Even your worst day can one day become a testimony.
And we know that God causes everything to work together for the good of those who love God and are called according to his purpose for them. — Romans 8:28 NIV
God will never start something in your life and leave you incomplete. He will finish what He started in you (see Philippians 1:6).
And if you’re wondering — yes, I returned to school that August and graduated alongside my class of 2008, by God’s grace. 🎓
Know the Healer
Today, more than anything, I am grateful to have a relationship with God. I’ve come to know Him as my Healer, my Deliverer, my Peace, my Lord, and my Friend.
If you don’t know Him, I’d love to introduce you to Jesus. He’s better than you can ever imagine.
He doesn’t promise a perfect, trouble-free life — but He does promise to be present with you every single step of the way.
The Bible gives us a promise that if you confess with your mouth the Lord Jesus and believe in your heart that God has raised Him from the dead, you will be saved (Romans 10:9).
You can pray this prayer today to begin your relationship with Him:
“ God,
I know that I need you. I realize that I’ve been living away from your will and want to give you my life today. I repent of my sins and ask for your forgiveness. I confess Jesus as Savior and Lord. I believe that He died for my sins and rose again for me. From this day forward, my heart belongs to you. Lead me and show me the way to know you more each day. I receive your free gift of salvation.
In Jesus’ Name, Amen.”
If you prayed that prayer today, all of heaven is rejoicing! I’d love to connect with you, hear your story, and send you some freebies. Message me or leave a comment below!
Thank you for reading my story today.
I’m honored you would take the time to read what God has done in my life, and pray that you’re encouraged.
No matter what you’re facing — God is still working.
With gratitude and joy,
Emonne