I was born April 6th, 1959 in Riddle, Oregon. My mother and father gave all their six children first names that came from the Bible. I was the first girl and the third child. Dad prayed many hours on what to name me. They both decided on the name Lois, taken after Timothy’s grandmother. She was esteemed for her unfeigned faith. That name has had a great bearing on my life especially in my adult life.
The year was 1964. We were living in Santa Barbara, California. My parents were missionaries for the Christian Alliance Church. Five of their six children were born along the west coast including California, Oregon, Washington and one in Calgary, Canada. My parents traveled wherever the church sent them. They were eager to do what they could for the Lord.
While living in California, we played much in the Pacific coast beaches. It was in the spring of 1964 in which an unfortunate, yet God ordained, incident happened. I was bitten by a sand flea that carried a disease to my body and settled in my kidneys. It was not too long before signs of kidney failure had overtaken my small body. The doctors told my parents that I would soon have to go on dialysis and eventually have a kidney transplant. My father, in his words, said,
The healing ministry attracted my father, as he was desperate for a miracle for me. He wrote and requested a prayer cloth. I wore it constant for a year. My parents told me that during that year my condition stabilized and didn’t get worse. Yet, I still continued to have problems that had already begun.
It was spring of 1965 my parents decided to sell and move to Jeffersonville, IN for the sole purpose of meeting this man of God. My father wanted me to stand in front of him. Dad built a trailer that pulled behind our station wagon. In July 1965, we arrived in southern Indiana, coming down the hills at the knobs, which were the main roads then. I remember the view I saw and the excitement and anticipation I felt from my parents.
My father found the Branham Tabernacle right away. He began talking with a black man, Bro. Willy Nash, who was standing across the street from the church. Upon leaving we headed south on Penn St. and turned westward on Court St. Driving slowly we saw a woman walking up the street. My father stopped and talked with her asking about rentals in the area. The Lord was leading us as this woman was Mrs. Muncie, who owned many properties in the Jeffersonville area.
Right away she directed us to drive over to the 600 block of E. Maple St. where Meigs Ave. intersects and wait for her. When we arrived there, she took my entire family into a two story home where we all went upstairs. The house is still standing today. It is the 2nd house on the right, facing east, on E. Maple St., where Meigs Ave. crosses.
After a time of meeting one another, my parents learned that this lady knew this man of God and where he lived. She was very respectful as she referred to him as Bro. Bill. She had attended many services yet was not a member there. Our visit was God ordained, and she had a rental for us right away. Mrs. Muncie turned to me and said, “I’d like to take you home with me to play with my granddaughter.” She sympathized with us children for having to sit so long during the drive. I looked at my mother, and she told me to go to the car and get my shoes. I was always running barefoot.
I dashed out of the room and down the long stairs, coming to the porch and more stairs. I remember looking both ways and attempted to cross the street. A Volkswagen car came from a stop sign southbound at Meigs Ave. and turning left, hit me.
It seemed forever lying there. I remember my mother’s voice and assurance that all would be well. My father was frantically looking for a place to call an ambulance. He told my mother to check next door. My mom came to the door of the third house on the right side of the street. It was a single story home. She walked up to the porch, and she could see the door was open with a screen door separating her and a woman inside. My mother knocked hard while the woman was vacuuming. While standing there knocking, a voice spoke to mom and said, “Don’t worry, your little girl is going to be alright.” A great peace and assurance came over my mother as she turned around and went back to me. She told my father what had happened. He was nearly beside himself and could only think of getting an ambulance. They came and found that my head had broken out the headlight and dented the fender. My head was swelling from the impact, and upon arrival at Clark County Memorial Hospital, they urgently wanted to operate to relieve the swelling. They told my parents that my heart was also swelling. My father replied and said,
The surgeon agreed to grant my parents only one hour before they had to operate.
They recalled the location of Brother Branham’s home from meeting Mrs. Muncie just moments before. Immediately they drove to his house and were told by Sister Branham that Brother Branham was next door at Brother Banks Woods home. They walked over to the house and were greeted at the door by a young, newly engaged Rebekah Branham. She asked if she could take a message to her father as she replied, “He is in the backyard with his shirt off, mowing the lawn.” My parents quickly told Rebekah what had happened, and she ran back to her father to tell him. Returning she said, “Daddy said to tell you, “Don’t worry, your little girl is going to be alright.” My mother would often tell me this story, always putting emphasis on how exact the message came back to them. It was just as the Lord had spoken to her heart back on the porch earlier.
With much assurance and exactly what they needed to hear they returned back to the hospital. The doctors told my parents that they didn’t understand the changes made so quickly.
They said the surgeon was scratching his head in amazement. My father gave God the glory and shared with the hospital staff about this great man of God. He always, from that time, shared this end time Message with many, many people. He never was ashamed of this Gospel, and he loved the prophet, his family, and the fellowship of God’s children. I was discharged from the hospital in three days. That in itself was so much to be thankful for as I reflect back.
A short time later my family attended the services held at the Branham Tabernacle. The date was July 25th 1965 and Brother Branham preached the morning service, “Anointed Ones at the End Time.” It was in the evening service when the message, “What is the Attraction on the Mountain?” was preached. At the evening service, my parents took me up to be prayed for concerning the kidney failure I had. Brother Branham spoke to my parents, explaining that they shouldn’t lose faith as that demon was going to die. He said I would appear to get sicker, but I would be well. Prayer was made, and that night I had my last kidney attack. It was the worst attack as my mother told me, but after that, I quickly recovered and never had another problem. The doctors soon gave me a clean bill of health. Praise the Lord!