She came to us in the fall of 1976, not long before Christmas. It was wonderful to have a baby girl! We already had a little boy, Michael, who at one and a half was the joy of our hearts. But now, a little girl too! It seemed like things couldn't get any better. The Lord was truly blessing our lives!

My husband Bill and I are Christian volunteers with The Family. Shortly before our daughter was born we had set out on our first overseas mission. We had moved from our native U.S. to the eastern coast of Australia, to the small city of Newcastle. Things were about to become very difficult for us. Perhaps the Lord was testing our level of commitment to His service. Perhaps He wanted to draw us closer to Him. Perhaps He wanted to teach us about His miraculous ways. Perhaps all three.

Our small flock of believers was a motley crew, including a middle-aged poet, a drag queen who was drawn to the message of Jesus, and a 16-year-old girl named Dale, who became one of our dearest helpers and closest friends.

Dale had come to us one night, desperate and in tears. She was pregnant. Her father was demanding that she have an abortion, and had thrown her out of the house. We took her in, and while she was with us Dale came to know Jesus and His love for her. She decided to keep her baby, and soon her father had a change of heart and accepted her back home.

Then our daughter was born. We thanked God for how good He had been to us to bless us with such a beautiful family.

Several months earlier, the Lord had told us, "Through this baby you are going to learn how real My promises are!" We were to give her that name--Promise. Little did we know how dramatically or how quickly the Lord would keep His word.

The other missionaries we had been living, working, and sharing expenses with had to leave unexpectedly, and it soon became clear that we couldn't continue on our own. We would need to close our fledgling missionary work. As we faced this large task alone, sickness struck. Michael came down with such a high fever that he was constantly on the verge of seizures. Then Promise and I became ill. I was too weak to lift a hand to help Bill with the children or anything else that needed to get done.

Eventually Michael and I began to recover, but Promise got worse. We took her to the hospital for a checkup, but after an examination and hearing about what Michael and I had been through, the doctor concluded that Promise had simply caught the flu that was going around and was going to be fine.

"Admit this baby right now, or she'll be dead in the morning!"

We took her home, but her illness worsened. A couple of nights later a red rash appeared on her neck and moved slowly down her back as her fever rose to 103° F (39.5° C). Our six-week-old baby was in excruciating pain. Something was very, very wrong! We rushed her back to the hospital.

The doctor on duty in the ER took one look at Promise and summoned two other doctors for their opinions. Through the medical screen that separated us from the doctors, Bill and I made out one terrifying word: meningitis.

The first doctor appeared from behind the screen and callously ordered us to admit Promise to the hospital immediately. We asked him to explain the diagnosis, but he refused. We were young and inexperienced, yes, but we weren't prepared for the harsh treatment we received from that particular doctor.

"Admit this baby right now," he ordered, "or she'll be dead in the morning!"

"Dead in the morning!" The words rang in my ears. My body went limp as I released my baby into the doctor's arms and she was whisked away.

Bill and I waited outside on the hospital steps for the test results, staring at each other in shock and disbelief. Our six-week-old Promise's life hung in the balance.

As we held hands and cried out to the Lord together for His merciful intervention, His words came back to us: He would use her to teach us how real His promises are. We claimed every Bible verse we had memorized about divine healing, and begged the Lord to keep each promise.

We went home and anxiously awaited news from the hospital. Over the phone another doctor told us that Promise had all the symptoms of bacterial meningitis, and that a spinal tap had confirmed it. There are two types of meningitis, and the type that Promise had was incurable. The doctors had ordered further tests, including a second spinal tap. Devastated and heartbroken, we could only await the results with prayer.

An hour later the doctors said the results from the second round of tests were "confusing and possibly contradictory." Suddenly we felt a small ray of hope: Perhaps the Lord was already starting to heal her.

Because the last tests had been inconclusive, baby Promise needed a third extremely painful spinal tap. We prayed all the more desperately for a miracle.

Back at the hospital, the doctors told us they were positive she had bacterial meningitis, but the test results kept coming back "vague, cloudy, and distorted." They couldn't explain it, but we could. The minute we had prayed, God had begun a miracle of healing inside her little body. He was fulfilling His promise to us. He was teaching us how real His promises are.

I will never forget that Christmas when our little family was held up by the hands of God, protected by His love, and touched by His angels.

For the next three weeks I stayed in the hospital with Promise, who was kept in an incubator and fed intravenously. There I read The Hem of His Garment, a short autobiographical book by Virginia Brandt Berg, one of America's first woman evangelists, who had experienced a miraculous healing herself that led to a healing ministry to others. I clung to every word, every promise.

Meanwhile, Bill was busy at home caring for our son and packing our belongings. Because we were closing our missionary outpost, we had given notice on our rented house and needed to move as soon as Promise and I could leave the hospital. Christmas was approaching, and I hadn't even had time to think about it. I hadn't even been home for three weeks. Our troubles had pushed aside the usual joys of Christmas, but God was about to give us the sweetest Christmas present we could have asked for.

On Christmas Eve our miracle came. God's promise to us was complete. Promise was released from the hospital. It was official: She was healed! Our hearts overflowed with thankfulness and joy!

Even while we rejoiced over this wonderful news, our situation was still quite desperate. Bill had phoned a friend in Sydney who said he could take us in. Bill would pick us up at the hospital and we would need to go straight to the train station--the four of us and all of our belongings. We wished we didn't have to travel with Promise still in delicate condition, but we had no choice. We were solely at the mercy of God.

When Bill arrived for us, he only had some of our things--as much as he could bring by himself--but told me not to worry.

We arrived at the station just as our train pulled in, and there, walking down the platform was our dear friend, Dale--tiny Dale hauling with her the rest of our belongings! I will never forget that sight. She was our Christmas angel!

I hugged my little boy all the way to Sydney, while Promise slept peacefully. As Bill and I looked into each others' eyes, we knew exactly what the other was thinking: We had just witnessed a miracle.

And it wasn't over yet. As we arrived in Sydney that Christmas Eve, one of our dear brothers in Christ was waiting to receive us with open arms. Yes, we felt the love of Jesus that Christmas. We had been like Joseph and Mary on that night long ago, with no home for our little family, but this dear man made a place for us, as the innkeeper had for Joseph and Mary.

Michael and Promise and our other children are now grown, but I will never forget that Christmas when our little family was held up by the hands of God, protected by His love, and touched by His angels--some of which were actually ordinary people who the Lord used as instruments of His love. That Christmas and every Christmas since, my prayer has been that I may be there for others, as others were there for us. God promises are real!

Terri Moore is a full-time volunteer with The Family in the USA.