Lorraine Who – Part 1?
Music consumed me from the time I was a little girl. By the age of seven, I was appearing on country music shows, singing my heart out. Later I sang with big bands. My dreams focused on my special talent. I was a “Singer”!
Even though I married and had two adorable daughters, I never gave up my lifelong dream of being a professional singer. Nothing exhilarated me more than going down to my husband’s bar and letting the spotlight shine on me as I sang. When my girls were raised, I planned to go out and step up to microphones across the country and receive the applause I felt my talent deserved.
In 1969 I was confronted with a surprising pregnancy, but thought of snuggling with a baby in my arms enticed me. When a nine-pound baby girl arrived, she immediately became the family’s darling “Buffy.”
Her two older sisters and I doted on her, and were all devastated when we learned she had physical problems. When she was ten months old, I took her to the Cleveland Clinic for tests and diagnosis.
My thoughts the night before the doctors were to tell us the results were interrupted by the jangle of the telephone. Mom’s welcome voice came through loud and clear, as if she were standing right beside me instead of calling long-distance from Florida to Ohio.
“Lorraine, you need to call on the Lord to help you through this,” she said.
I welcomed her concern, but I didn’t want to hear the implication that there might be something terribly wrong with my Buffy, so I ended the conversation with these words to my mother, “If they say my baby’s going to die, don’t even mention God to me again.”
After hanging up the phone, I pondered her words. My own father had died when I was quite young. Later mom married a Baptist preacher, and my sister had become the wife of an Assembly of God minister. They had a lot of faith, but mine was so lacking that if I tried to contact Him, the Lord would have had to say, “Lorraine?—Lorraine who?”
Before I visited the clinic the next day, I tried to steel myself for what their professionals might say. Even with the mind preparation I’d made, I was not prepared for what they had to say. “Your daughter has a rare form of Muscular Dystrophy called Werdnig-Hoffmans Disease.” After that they went on to describe the prognosis.
Come back to part 2 of this testimony next week.
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