Testimony

My Journey...by Cristy Burnett

I would like to begin my testimony by telling you a little about myself. The
most important thing I want you to know about me is that I am a sinner. But
by the grace of God, I am saved.

Now that I’ve gotten that off my chest, I can begin to share my journey. For
those of you that don’t know me or my story, it’s not always been an easy
path. I knew one day, though, when He thought I was ready, He would
present an opportunity for me to talk.

I want to give you a brief look at my life. I was blessed with wonderful
parents. I am the youngest of three children. I have a brother that is three
years older than me and a sister that is six years older.   My parents divorced
when I was in high school.   As I’ve gotten older, I realize that that divorce
did not come without a price, both good and bad. I had to learn to accept
things in life that didn’t go the way I thought they were supposed to and how
to make the best of what I was dealt.

My mother has been a constant in my life. She has always made me feel
important and special, even during the most difficult times. As most of you
know that know me, I think I became the boss somewhere along the way, or
at least I like to think so. Of course, as I look back now, God was preparing
me all along for the path that my life was going to take.

My mother was the person that taught me about the Lord. She was raised in
a Christian home and attended Cove Baptist Church. Her mother and father
made sure their children went to church on Sundays. And believe me when I
tell you, that was not always easy for them, being that she is the baby of 13
kids. But they did it. It was that important.

My mother had a problem that a lot of women have today; it was difficult for
my dad to go to church. And although I don’t want to make excuses for him,
he was not raised in a loving, Christian environment. It was a struggle for
him. The reason I tell you this is because there came a time when he did come
to church with us. I was in junior high. He came to church, professed Jesus
Christ as his Lord and Savior, and was baptized. That lead to me, my brother,
my sister and her husband, and a handful of other relatives professing Jesus
as their Lord and Savior and being baptized, also.

That was when I was 12 years old. I always loved the Lord; but it seems I
always kept straddling that fence, afraid of what would happen if I jumped all
the way over. So, I grew up, graduated from high school in 1984, the same
year I met my husband and the love of my life; got married in ‘87 and had
three beautiful children; Corbin in ‘91, Colby in ‘93, and Bailee in ‘96.

It was not always an easy journey; but as I look back, it is what I would call
life. My husband accepted Jesus as His Lord and Savior and was baptized in
1990, and we went about living through the ups and downs of what life would
give us. But I always felt something was missing. I stayed on that fence. And
in 1999 we changed churches and became members of North Orange Baptist
Church.

That is when things began to change for me. I rededicated myself to the
Lord. I started attending evening bible studies, attending Sunday School
regularly, and began learning how to live for what God thought of me and no
one else. I learned that I could control the insecurities I had with God’s help
and that I needed to concentrate on MY relationship with God and everything
else would just fall into place. It was a wonderful feeling. I felt like a heavy
load had been lifted.

And so, life went on. And then in June of 2001, Corbin, the oldest of my three
children, attended church camp at East Texas Baptist Encampment. He
called us on the phone the last night he was here and he said, “Mom, guess
what?” And I said, “What, Honey?” And he said, “I was saved.” I could
hear the excitement in his voice. It brings chills for me now just to think
about it. I had no idea how much this would come to mean to me.

Corbin came home from church camp and in July, went and talked with the
preacher. And one Sunday, without any warning, couldn’t get past his daddy
and I fast enough to go down the aisle to profess Jesus Christ as his Lord and
Savior. On July 15, 2001, Corbin was baptized. I would crawl in bed with him
at night to tuck him in and after he “confessed all his sins of the day to me”,
he would say, “Good night, mom; I love you, sweet dreams, don’t forget to
say your prayers.”

Life was sweet. Corbin was in the 5th grade, Colby was in 3rd, and Bailee
was in Pre-K. Corbin was a straight A student. He loved to play baseball,
stealing bases every chance he got; playing hide and go seek; jumping on the
trampoline; and loved to ride his dirt bike that he and his brother and best
friend had all received for their birthdays.

And then in September of 2001, 12 days after the twin towers came down in
New York, in the blink of an eye, it all changed. Out of the blue Corbin
started complaining of having trouble reading. I took him to the eye doctor
twice that week, he received glasses; and by Saturday I realized there was
something else wrong. I called his pediatrician and told him my concerns and
he volunteered to meet me at the emergency room on Sunday, since I had to
work on Monday. Deon, my husband, was out of town on a hunting trip; so
after discussing it with him on the phone, I dropped the other two kids off at
Sunday School with my mom and I took Corbin to the hospital, fully expecting
to meet my mom for lunch after church.

After a brief exam and me voicing my concerns to the doctor, he agreed to do
a CAT scan on Corbin’s brain just to make sure. He told me he was sure
things were just fine. After the test the emergency room doctor came in to
inform me he had to do a more detailed CAT scan because the scan was
abnormal. I thought “Abnormal.” I was there alone, and Corbin was sitting
right across from me. I followed the doctor out of the room and asked him,
“What do you mean, abnormal?” And he looked at me and said, “I’m afraid
your son has a brain tumor.” And life as we knew it was over.

Deon made it to the emergency room just in time to get on an ambulance with
Corbin and me and go to Texas Children’s Hospital. Just as we were about to
leave the hospital, a lady came up to me and handed me a small magnet that
had praying hands on it. It said, “One day at a time.”   I didn’t realize how
important those five words would come to mean to me.

It was a long night, more tests were run the next day, and that next evening is
when we had the conversation with his team of doctors that I will never
forget. They brought us in a room and basically told us our son was going to
die. There was no cure for this tumor and he could not live with it. I don’t
remember it all; but I do remember asking, “How long?” And she said,
“Maybe two years.”

I have never felt so alone in all my life.   As I sat outside Corbin’s room that
night, I felt like I had been hit in the stomach and I
couldn’t catch my breath. I felt utterly and completely hopeless. It’s a
feeling I wish no parent would ever have to feel. One of my dear friends said
that week, “You can’t imagine the things that everyone in the community is
doing for you.” And I remember saying, “It doesn’t matter.” “It just doesn’t
matter.” None of it mattered. Life did not matter at that point. I did not
think I could face another day. As I lay next to Corbin in the hospital bed that
night, I put my hands on his precious little head while he slept and I prayed
that God would take it away. I didn’t think we could face this. I didn’t want
to have to face this. But then, as I crawled back on the foldout couch with
Deon, he said something to me that gave me the strength to get up the next
day. He said, “Cristy, God did not do this to Corbin. But if He chooses, He
can take it away. But if He doesn’t, it’s not because of anything Corbin did or
anything we did. And he will be in a much better place than we are.”   I knew
at that point that God was my only source of hope, the only way I was going
to make it through what I was facing. No money could change it. No person
could make it better. My husband couldn’t change it. No doctor could help
him. God was my only hope. Not only the hope for a miracle of Corbin’s life,
but my strength to be able to do what would be required of me. I knew that
everything in my life that had happened up until this point had been preparing
me for this very moment. I knew that it was time for me to walk the walk. I
asked God to give me the strength.

  About two or three weeks after Corbin’s diagnosis, a friend from First
Baptist Church asked if I would go with her and other members to a Christian
women’s conference called Women of Faith.    I had never heard of it; but
after discussing it with my husband, I reluctantly decided to go, not wanting to
leave Corbin, even for a night. I knew as soon as I got there, God brought me
to that very place. One of the speakers of Women of Faith had been
diagnosed with a brain tumor.   In that arena filled with 15,000 women, we
prayed specifically for children with brain tumors. I listened to her life story
that had been filled with tragedies and of losing two of her own children and
knew if she could continue on, so could I. A song was sung called “Standing in
the Gap”. I was so broken, and I have never felt more love and support in my
life as I did at that moment. As she sang, I had many, many hands on me
“standing in the gap”, so to speak, when I didn’t have the strength to do it on
my own.

So, I watched my first-born son, the first person that made me feel more love
in my heart than I could ever imagine, endure surgery, countless trips to
Houston for radiation treatments, chemotherapy, and needle after needle
after needle. I couldn’t find it in my heart to give up hope for him or to make
him feel as though there was no hope. All I could offer him was the peace
that only comes with knowing and trusting God with your whole being.

Corbin, along with everyone that knew him (and even those who didn’t)
fought his battle with this tumor for ten and a half months. I prayed as I knew
I needed to, that God’s will be done. I can’t say that was easy. I wanted MY
will to be done. I wanted my son to be spared. I wanted to watch him go to
junior high and play baseball and fall in love and have children. I wanted him
to continue to bless our family with his presence. I wanted his younger
brother and sister to continue to have him a part of their everyday lives. I
wanted him and his daddy to continue deer hunting together. But the truth of
the matter was, and I knew it, I had to want God’s will, whatever it was. I
had professed Jesus Christ as my Lord and Savior. The Bible says you have
to deny self. I knew that I had to accept whatever outcome lie ahead.

So, as we battled this tumor, being so grateful that we had a church family
and a close relationship to the Lord, we kept our kids in church. I talked
about Heaven the way the Bible taught me. Earth is just a temporary home.
Heaven is forever. We are all going to be together there one day.

And with just as much excitement as Corbin, Colby, who was 8 years old at
the time, took the same journey as Corbin. He professed Jesus Christ as his
Lord and Savior and was baptized. Corbin was so proud of his brother; and I
knew that Colby was being surrounded by God’s love and protection during
this difficult journey.

As the months passed, Corbin’s tumor became more and more apparent. His
precious body became weaker and weaker. His speech became more and
more slurred. But through it all, he remained at peace, content, and very
seldom complained (which I might add, was definitely out of his character).
All the more reason I knew that God was right there with us along the way.

The first of August of 2002, ten months after Corbin was diagnosed with his
tumor, his body too weak to move on its own, he lay in his bed one night as I
tucked him in and in his broken speech he said, “Mom, I’m going to die.” I
said, “Honey, we are all going to die one day. Mommy is going to die one day,
too.” Then he said, “But Mom, it’s different. I’m going to die when I’m 10.”
And he held up his only working hand and showed me five fingers twice.
Being that his 11th birthday was only a few weeks away and he knew it, I
said, “Corbin, only God knows the plans he has for us. Only He knows when
we are going to die. But when we do, we are going to Heaven. And Heaven
is such a wonderful place. It’s much better than here. And we are all going to
be there together forever.” Without God, I would not have been able to
handle this moment. Without His promises to us, I would not have had any
response to his words. These were the only words worthy of his hearing at
this point. That was as honest as I could be to my little boy that trusted me
with his life. I thank you, God, for giving me those words. And I thank You
for dying on the cross for my son. My son. His dying on the cross had become
personal to me.

Knowing in his heart what mom was trying to say, Corbin took a prayer bear
that had been given to him from Hospice, put it up to his face, bowed his head
and he began to pray silently. At that moment I knew that Corbin was leaving
me and looking to the Lord. I crawled in the bed with him; and although I
knew this was his journey with God, I would have given anything at that
moment to have heard his prayer. It just wasn’t my journey to take.

Shortly after this conversation with Corbin, we had a visitor at the door.
Bailee, who was just 5 at the time, came running up to the door as I opened
it. There on the step right in front of us was a little bird. Never in the ten
years we lived at this house had a bird ever been there. Bailee scooped him
up and decided she was giving him a home. And those of you that know
Bailee, this was right in line with her character. We realized he was injured,
believing he probably ran into the door while he was flying. She made a bed
for him in a little shoebox and gave him some food and water and brought him
to her room. About an hour later, Bailee comes in with the bird in the palm of
her hand, crying. The bird had died.

So, dad helped her bury this little creature that appeared out of nowhere in
our flower garden. When bedtime came and I went to tuck her in, she was
crying, sad that the bird had died and she would not get to see him again. I
crawled in the bed with her and she said, “Mommy, that bird died because he
was sick?” And I said, “Yes, Baby.” And she said, “Well, maybe the mommy
and daddy bird was waiting on him in Heaven and they’re all together now?”
And I said, “That’s right. He’s not sick anymore. He is so happy in Heaven,
even though it makes us sad. And we are gonna see him again.” And she
said, “Corbin is sick like that bird was, isn’t he?” And I said, “Yes, Baby, he
is.” And she said, “So, he might go to Heaven, too, just like that little bird?”
And I said, “Yes, Baby, he might. But if he does, he will not be sick anymore;
he will be so happy, and we’ll all be there together one day.” I knew that God
had put that bird on my doorstep to help Bailee through Corbin’s death.

On Saturday, August 11th, 2002, Corbin’s condition deteriorating, the hospice
doctor came to visit and told his daddy and me it would be soon and that I
needed to tell him it was okay for him to go, that a lot of times they hold on
for their loved ones. This was not something I was prepared to do. I, again,
turned to God for His guidance and to give me strength. Corbin went to sleep
Saturday night, slept all day Sunday, and on Sunday night, Deon encouraged
me to talk to Corbin. I said no, I just wasn’t ready. But on Monday night,
God told me it was time to have that conversation. Through my tears, I told
Corbin that God wanted him in Heaven, that time was different there, he
wouldn’t miss me and daddy, there was nothing to be afraid of, and we would
be there shortly. So, when Jesus reaches out his hand, I wanted him to take
it.

A few hours later in the middle of the night, while lying next to Corbin and
holding his precious little hand, I felt this tingle of electricity run from the tip
of my middle finger, up my arm, and into my chest. I believe Corbin entered
my heart to remain there with me until eternity.

On August 13th, 2002, Bailee’s first day of kindergarten, Colby’s first day of
4th grade, and nine days before his 11th birthday, Corbin, as I like to describe
it, took the hand of Jesus and went to Heaven on what would have been his
first day of junior high. As his body struggled to stay alive those last few
hours in the middle of the night, I lay there emotionally naked. No one in the
world mattered at this moment other than Corbin and God. God was patient
with me, so very gentle with Corbin; and he waited for me to allow Him to
take Corbin to that glorious place in the sky. Just moments after I knew it
was time and I asked God to take him, He did. Corbin’s battle was over.
Thanks to God, my unbearable pain became Corbin’s moment of truth.
Corbin stood eye to eye with the Lord. No more pain. No more suffering. No
more illness. I envision Corbin climbing on his back with one hand around his
neck and the other one pointing up to Heaven heading to eternity.

Again, I knew I could not make it through the next few days without God’s
wisdom surrounding me. I struggled with letting him go, worrying if he was
afraid; worrying that he wanted me like he always had and me not being able
to be there for him. I knew I had to give him back to the Lord. He was God’s
child all along; he was just on loan to me. I went and sat next to Corbin’s
casket the day of his funeral, feeling such turmoil inside, feeling physical pain
in my chest and back from a broken heart. I opened my Bible and I began to
talk to Corbin and search the scripture for some sort of answer I could give
him for what was happening. God took me to a scripture that I believe gave
me the strength to let my little boy’s precious body go into the ground that
day. He brought me to Romans 8:28. “And we know that in all things God
works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to
his purpose. For those God foreknew, he also predestined to be conformed to
the likeness of his Son, that he might be the firstborn of many brothers. And
those he predestined, he also called; those he called, he also justified; those
he justified, he also glorified.”

There were many things that God did to show me His love. He used so many
people to make a difference during this journey. I think back to that first
week when my friend told me of all the wonderful things that were being done
for us back home and I said none of it mattered. It did matter. Every dollar
that was given, it became a hug from God, every kind word spoken became a
hug from God, every gift given became a hug from God, every act of kindness
was a direct result of God’s love in action. Philippians 4:13 says, “I can do all
things through Christ who strengthens me.”   He provided me, and still does,
with the strength I need to carry on. For that, I am eternally grateful.

As I sat at Corbin’s grave just days after the funeral, my emotions were so
raw. I wanted so desperately to know he was okay. I was speechless, it was
cloudy, and I was exhausted. I bowed down to the grave and in desperation I
raised my head, eyes closed towards the sky. At that exact moment, I felt
this amazing warmth. The clouds parted and the sun beamed down on my
face. Never opening my eyes, I knew it was the Lord giving me the hug that I
desperately needed.

Then just weeks after his death, Deon and I decided we would watch a
movie one night. It was called “Dragonfly.” It was about a man struggling
after the loss of his wife and struggling with whether or not there was a God.
The dragonfly became my “symbol” for Corbin. Shortly after that movie, we
were sitting in the neighbors’ backyard enjoying the outdoors and cooking
when a dragonfly flew up, eyes as big and blue as Corbin’s were; and as I
reached out my hand, he landed on my finger like he had been waiting for me
to put it up there. That same thing happened to me the following summer. I
don’t believe it was coincidence. I believe God uses His creations to give us
that hug we need. He knows when we need it. We just have to be paying
attention.

There was another moment, about a month after Corbin died; I was sitting on
a bench facing the ocean in Galveston. I was feeling extremely vulnerable,
being away from home with friends for the first time since his death and away
from my husband and kids. I looked out into the night sky across the ocean
and I asked God to give me some reassurance that he was still okay. At that
moment God sent a shooting star across the sky. I had not seen one in years.
I knew then that it was the Lord giving me that hug that I, again, desperately
needed. I thanked him for that.

This past August on the second anniversary of Corbin’s death, I went to the
cemetery with a blanket after dark with some friends. As we laid there
watching the night sky, God entertained us with the most amazing night of
shooting stars, continuing to keep that hope alive in my heart and letting me
know that he’s still okay.

I will leave you with the same scripture that I ended Corbin’s obituary with,
Psalms 3:5-6, “Trust in the Lord with all your heart. Lean not on your own
understanding. In all of your ways, acknowledge Him. He will make your
path straight.” I will remain faithful to the Lord until I get to Heaven. I can’t
wait until that day. When He is ready for me, I am ready. And when that day
comes, I envision the gates of Heaven opening up, God standing there with
open arms with such a presence of love and peace; and then I envision God
stepping aside to reveal Corbin standing behind him and God giving him back
to me, never to be taken away from me again. 2 Corinthians 4:18 says, “So,
we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen. For what is seen is
temporary, but what is unseen is eternal.”

I pray that God will bless you in your journey called life the way he has
blessed me.