“Joanna, come with us!  Gloria has been pulled from a Jacuzzi and is in critical condition!  She has been life-flighted to Children’s
Hospital.”

It was the afternoon of April 16th, 2004.  I was just leaving my car to attend a business meeting in San Diego when my two friends
had come running up to me.  It was one of those accidents that defies explanation.  All of the adults present at the Jacuzzi were
responsible and loving people, who remain good friends and family to me.  Gloria was good about staying away from deep water.  
Yet somehow it happened.

One of my friends gave Gloria CPR until a policeman arrived on the scene and took over.  When the ambulance came she was
taken to Palomar Hospital. The trauma team there had already lost a child to drowning a few hours earlier.  They not only worked
feverishly over Gloria, but prayed for her as well.

She was transferred to Children's Hospital San Diego where the best facilities for drowning victims are located.  It was some two
hours later that my friends found and told me what had happened.

All I knew to do as we rode to “Children’s” was to pray for my precious child.  I reached the hospital in a state of controlled panic.  
My father was already there and I fell crying into his strong arms.  We found our way to Gloria’s room where I saw my husband
Jeremy.  The look in his eyes betrayed his deep grief.  His princess was badly hurt and he couldn't fix her.  He hugged me and
told me not to cry in her room.  Little Gloria needed us to be strong for her.  I made my way to her bedside, not sure what I would
see or how I would respond.

There lay my little lady--my Glo-Bug--my second child, in a drug induced coma, hooked up to a maze of wires and machines.  Her
skin was ashen and pale.  Hundreds of little broken blood vessels covered her face.   She smelled of chlorine and vomit.  I
gasped, struggled for composure, and prayed to Jesus, harder than I knew I could pray.  "Please don't let my child die!”  

Then I spoke softly into her little ear, "Mommy is here.  Be brave.  We’re in this together and I love you.  Hold on baby.  Please
hold on."

When I left her room my composure deserted me and the tears broke loose and cascaded like a water fall.  The hours that
followed were a foggy daze.  All I remember is the disbelief and the wrenching pain.

Since my younger sister Jessica lived only ten minutes from the hospital, I went home with her that night.  I fell into her easy chair
with a splitting headache competing with my heartache.  The doctors had told us it was bad.   We were cautioned not get our
hopes too high.

Jessica was exhausted from being eight months pregnant with her first child, but still asked what she could do.  I requested some
Christian music.  Though I can't remember the song, I will never forget the sense of peace it brought me.  My thoughts turned to
my God whom I had been praying to--the One who loved me enough to die for me.  He had brought me out of my dark, sad teen
years and blessed me with a wonderful husband and three beautiful children.  "God, you really are with me!"

The truth of that eternal fact comforted me more than any words can express.  I got up and made my way to the bedroom my
sister had prepared for her unborn child.  There I flopped on to the guest bed in cried-out, exhausted grief.

When I closed my eyes I saw a man, a very good man standing by my bedside.  I could see Him in my head and had no need to
open my eyes.  The pain was still present, but the peace He brought me exceeded the pain.  It enveloped me--so close it
penetrated my being--so powerful it exceeded my imagination.  He spoke deeply to my heart, not in audible words but in
something stronger.  
"I am here."
“Please don’t leave me,” I cried.  
"I have promised to never leave or forsake you, why would I leave you now, when you need me the most?"
"If you are here with me, then who is with Gloria?"
I almost heard the humor in His gentle Voice as He replied, "Well, dear heart--that's part of being God, I can be wherever I need
to be."

A picture flashed into my mind of me in my bed with Him standing near, my hand in His--and my beautiful baby lying helpless in a
hospital bed, away from my reach, but not from His.  He stood over her, holding her little hand.   I could see the love and
compassion in His eyes.  He was not weary as mortals can be.  He stood vigil while I rested, with His presence burning into my
mind all that night.  I slept in a motionless peace, the tears silently flowing from the corners of my eyes, peacefully aware of His
strength and love.

I awoke in the morning to a whisper from heaven "I am with you.  I will be with you today.  Now go to your daughter.  She needs
you."

I made it to the hospital, feeling the harsh reality of loss and fear in anticipation of what the experts would tell my husband and me
regarding our precious baby.  They ran tests and told us to wait and see.

My older sister Joy flew in from Oklahoma with her husband Seth to help with my son Daniel (then 5), and with baby Grace (then
6 months).  My two precious sisters, Joy and Jessica, were like angels from heaven to me.

The days that followed were exhausting.  Sleep at night was seldom as restful as the first night.  One night I lay in bed late,
aching, numb, and out of tears, when He came again.  This time He pressed His healing, nail-scarred hand into my heart.  I asked
Him what He was doing.  “I am giving you strength for the long-haul," He replied.

He pressed and molded my heart until the comfort put me to sleep.  I re-discover daily what He lovingly planted in  my heart that
night.  “So this is going to be a long haul,” I realized.  “But by His comfort and strength I will make it.”

As for the tests, one MRI showed little damage to an untrained tech who told us he saw little to be concerned with.  He cautioned
that he wasn’t the expert, but that he thought she would recover nicely with rehab.  I floated home on a cloud of hope.  But the
cloud turned to rain of despair the next day when the neuro doctors and other experts, looking at the same MRI painted a grim
picture.  She would only have a fraction of brain capacity--enough to keep her alive in a vegetative state, but that was all.  I was
crushed and angry about the false hope I had been given the night before.

The news continued to worsen.  One day I was helping the nurses bathe her when I suddenly had an impulse to ask them to
check Gloria’s eyes.  Where there had been some response before, they discovered that her pupils were fixed, dilated, and
blank. They immediately wheeled her from the room to do an emergency MRI.  The results came at a meeting the next day.

"Devastation" was the doctor’s descriptive word.  “There is no hope.  It’s time to let go.  This is my expert opinion.  If she were my
child, I would let go.  We can probably keep her alive with surgery, but she will never recover cognitive function.  I’m sorry, but
that’s all we can do.  Make a decision.”

Every fiber of my being screamed out “No! no! no!  You don't know my child.  She will fight.  She wants to live!”

I had had a waking dream the day before with Gloria inside a small, but strong, well built house.  She told me, "Mommy, don't be
scared.  I’m not scared.  Jesus is here holding my hand.  Mommy, I want to live."

As I pondered it later, I heard Jesus whispering to me, “The little house was her own precious faith in Me.  We are in constant
communication.”  

I couldn't let go of a girl who wanted to live!  Neither could my husband or any other member of our family.  We cried out again to
the Lord our maker.  "Our Father, our Savior, our Healer--we need our Gloria!"  I stomped my foot as I prayed, "She wants to live!
Please have mercy!"

We reluctantly scheduled the surgery, asking for three days to pray and fast before the operation.  Perhaps God would do a
miracle.  No mother wants her child opened up unless she knows it is absolutely necessary.

The surgery was performed three days after my twenty-fourth birthday.  I told Jesus that morning, "If You don't want this You’ll
have to do something soon.”  Only the reassurance that He was there got me through that day.

Nobody warned me what she would look like after surgery for a trach, g-tube and fundo.  It was “struggle for composure time”
again.  Gloria was gray and puffy, but the tape which had hidden most of her face was gone and I kissed her sweet cheek for the
first time.

After the surgery we began to see improvement.  She kept bucking the respirator until they weaned her off it.  Her eyes began to
flutter and then to open.  At first they appeared blank, as if she saw nothing.  Then little movements came, side to side, up and
down.  Soon she was blinking on her own!  She began to make little whimpering noises as she emerged from her coma!

I began spending nights at home, with my other children in their own beds.  Our home seemed horribly empty without her and my
husband, who never left her side unless another family member was there to watch over his sweet princess.  I prayed we could
soon all live together again.

A few days later our prayers were answered when our insurance company announced that since she had her trach and G-tube,
she no longer needed hospitalization.  Caught unprepared, we somehow rose to the occasion.  We got all the equipment we
needed at the hospital and learned to use it in one day.

Finally we were all together at home again, but it was rough.  We are still getting used to a life very different than before, with my
faith constantly being tested.  Some days go well.  Others I just survive.  When I get depressed and begin to wonder if our
heavenly Father has forsaken us, I watch my husband lean over our daughter and observe his compassion and concern.  And
then I hear God whispering to my heart, "Who do you think taught Jeremy how to love like that?  I am the author of Fatherhood.  I
would not leave you any more than he would.   Even if human love fails, I will never fail you!"

Gloria can now stretch and yawn.  She is learning to blink fast as a way of saying "yes and hello."  We are still hopeful of her full
recovery.  Like any mother, I want the immediate miracle.  But Jesus has told me it will be a long haul.  I still pray He will shorten
her recovery time.  God is able to do immeasurably more than we ask or imagine--and I can imagine a lot!

Now remain these three, FAITH, HOPE, and LOVE, but the greatest of these is LOVE.  I have yielded my life to Christ.  He alone
sustains me through this tempest.

Be sure to check out the next page, A Look Back to get an overview of the past three years.
Gloria's Story
If you cannot view the video, please
read the text below:
On April 16, 2004 tragedy struck a very
special little girl, Gloria.
On that painful day, Gloria fell into a
jacuzzi and didn't take a breath for 15
minutes. Doctors said the damage to
her brain was so severe she would
never open her eyes or know her own
family.
But after 2 months in the hospital
Gloria was strong enough to go home.
Today, her life and the lives of her
family are much different than before.
Gloria is currently in a semi-vegetative
state and requires around the clock
nursing care.
Gloria is not defeated!
Her family believes in the healing
power of Jesus Christ. Already she has
come much farther than doctors
expected. Please pray for Gloria's
continued healing and for the
Endermann family.
"Remember to turn your speakers on!"
Gloria's Story as told by Joanna Endermann (mother)
Gloria Delphine Endermann