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Olinda Britton's Testimony

This is the testimony of a friend who was born into a Roman Catholic home. She lived and died a Catholic. At the request of Barbara Friedman, she wrote her testimony down to be shared with others.

I have always loved Jesus, always. I have always prayed. But it wasn't until I was in my 40s that I realized just how shallow my relationship with the Trinity was at that point in my life. I had started my road toward Jesus in a Bible study with Bessie Wilson about 30 years ago. I began to realize that I needed to have an intimate relationship with God, one that made Him the center of my life and one that required me to put my faith totally in my Creator. I was to follow Him wherever He led and to accept the challenges along the way with joy amidst pain or sorrow.

About 30 years ago, my Mom came on a visit from the D.C. area. My life was a mess: my daughter in a relationship that was worrying me, my husband ill and needing care-giving, and my prayer life filled with fretting and anxiousness and so nervous that I was heading for a breakdown. On the same day my Mom was leaving for her home, there was a Catholic evangelist coming to Boise, and my Mom made me promise to go and listen to his healing biblical words. Well, being sort of leery of a CATHOLIC evangelist, I didn't want to go. I had not made a reservation, and I was sure there would be no room for me. I was wrong. They had had a cancellation at 6:00 the morning of the departure. I reluctantly got on the bus, pouting and not getting involved with the singing and fun games people play when traveling together.

We arrive on the Boise campus, enter the auditorium, and I separate myself from my group and get as far as possible from them. I am sitting in a sea of Hispanics with some other Caucasian individuals, and I feel well hidden and certainly not a part of this farce called evangelization. As I sit there, I see a man running out to the stage. It was the preacher himself. He calls for everyone to stop talking and listen. He said, “To that ITALIAN woman in the audience, I have a message for you.” He said that 2 or 3 times, and I was puzzled, as I was an Italian woman in the crowd. But why Italian, as the seats were loaded with Hispanic women? But finally I listened, and he said, “To that Italian woman in the audience, you don't need your husband, your daughter, or your son, all you need is Jesus, and you will find Him in this Book.” He continued to wave it in the air telling me to read it. At that very moment, the hot stone that had taken up residence in my heart for years and years dropped away, and my tears came as a flood. I cried and cried and felt years of burdens drop away and a peace without understanding take over my heart and spirit. The Spirit was saying hello to me. He was comforting me and inviting me to join Him and the Son and the Father for the rest of my life. I knew that the Spirit of God had opened the eyes of my spirit to see God as openly as only He could show me. I was to learn that only if the Father touched me would I be able to see the Triune God and God the Son for the Savior that He is. I felt humbled that God was there by my side; I felt unworthy of His mercy and grace. I cried for all the times I tried on my own strength to carry impossibly hard crosses, for the times I never prayed for guidance. The tears, along with reminding me of what I had missed, also started to bring me that peace that the world could not give me. This began my journey with Jesus, my brother, my Savior, my Lord.

I came home. The peace has continued from that time. No matter what crosses in my path, the Spirit is there with strength that is not from me but exactly where Paul says it comes from. It comes from grace through my faith, not anything that I DO. I plan to remain in the arms of God until I meet Him after my death on earth.

My first encounter with as truly new challenge for me was in 1982. My husband suffered a heart attack and was taken to Deaconess Hospital, where open heart surgery was performed, and in about 10 hours it failed. Having failed means the new bypasses had plugged up and that another more massive heart attack occurred. My husband's heart was functioning at 27%, and instead of coming home healthy he was coming home an invalid with 2 ½ months to live, unable to do much for himself. I spent my time praying for Leslie, and he and I spent time building his body back up. With the Lord's mercy and goodness, the 2 ½ months stretched out to 14 years. My husband needed care for 14 of those years, but he was able to enjoy life with hunting, fishing, and visiting with friends. When he died, all I could do while grieving his loss was to give glory to God for the gift of 14 years of good life. This journey only served to show me that God the Spirit was always in my heart keeping me filled with His peace and strength. His wisdom was paramount in keeping me in the right direction. I kept my eyes on giving Him the glory, for I knew that I was doing His will.

In August 1995, I was diagnosed with possible cancer of the lungs. Sacred Heart ran tests and denied that it was cancer but rather a re-occurrence of an immune system disorder that I had been diagnosed with 41 years prior which had gone into remission in 1965. So for 4 ½ years I was on a dangerous Prednisone regimen that somehow allowed whatever was wrong with my lungs to progress slowly. In 1999, the Spokane doctor decided to go into the lung and take out a slice. This caused panic in my daughter and sister, who made an immediate appointment with the Mayo Clinic in Rochester, Minnesota.

Once there, I was diagnosed with non-hodgkins Lymphoma of the lung only, stage 4, large cell T. I was a healthy 65-year-old, so Mayo mixed a special chemo cocktail for me called CHOP 6. Because I was in good health, I was not watched carefully enough and ended up with side effects that will plague me the rest of my life.

During this time, my prayers were daily and more. Whenever a treatment was given, I spent 11 days unable to pray anything, except for the words, “Help me Jesus.” To this day I simply cannot put myself in the quiet stance before the Lord and rest in His arms while my mind formed words of praise and love for Him. I fear that the chemicals of chemo that do affect the mind have stolen my closeness to Him that sustains me. I yearn for that relationship and spend time trying to reprise it never to lose it again. During the battle, I felt that Jesus the Healer was beside me. I still do, but the fervor and excited delight is no longer what it was. Although these emotions are tempered, I still feel so close to God in all His persons that I can truly say He has never left me and continues to support me in pain, in times of frustration, in times of walking through the desert alone.

Eleven years ago, I faced the trial of cancer with the Creator of the Universe beside me and even through a pulmonary/cardiac arrest, He was there. He will forever be in my heart and spirit.

Please close your eyes and envision the times you have been hit with a cross to bear and your heart is in turmoil – no place to turn, just emptiness. Turn to the biblical Jesus in the gospel of John. Find out who He is and invite Him into your life, all of it, the good and the bad. You will never regret it. He is not a magician. But He is God, and He promises us He will never leave us or forsake us. Pray and pray for the comfort of the Holy Spirit who lives within us, and always, always ask for His wisdom. Thank God the Father for the gifts of consolation and peace of heart. Never forget that the longing feeling of emptiness in your heart can only be filled by Jesus, our Savior and Brother.

Olinda S. Britton
4/28/2011

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