My daughter, Cherokee, is a heart thief. She possesses hearts, old and young, that she has stolen with her tender disarming smile and her buoyant personality. My heart is one of her captives.

She is not only a heart thief, but is also a survivor, a miracle, a teacher, and a joy. On planet earth she is in a category of one—the only 12 year-old survivor of central apnea, Hirschprung's disease, and neurological cancer. Central apnea is a respiratory condition that requires Cherokee to breathe through a hole in her throat called a tracheotomy. Through her tracheal tube, she receives a constant flow of pure oxygen from her ventilator or portable oxygen tank.

The second condition, Hirschprung's disease, affects Cherokee's digestive system and required four major surgeries during her first year of life. She now has a "gastro tube" in her stomach, which allows us to place her medications and food directly into her stomach.

She requires a very strict diet. Cherokee's cancer was discovered when she was just seven years old. In January 2002, she endured eight hours of surgery while doctors removed a sizeable cancerous tumor wrapped around her brainstem. After the surgery, the surgeon told us the cancer had spread to her spinal cord, and Cherokee would need to have at least two years of intense radiation and chemo treatments. The surgeon then prepared us to see Cherokee by telling us, "Her eyes will be swollen shut and she won't be able to move for at least a few days."

Upon entering Cherokee's room that day, my wife, Devonna, and I could hardly endure the sight of that sweet, small, swollen face. Fortunately, our family was supported by the numerous intense prayers of our wonderful congregation and pastors at Bethany First Church of the Nazarene. Not knowing exactly what to say, I leaned over our little heart thief and whispered the only words I thought could comfort her: "Daddy's here." That's all I said.

Suddenly, to our amazement, Cherokee's arm began to twitch. Then she reached up and touched my face. As that small hand reacquainted itself with my features a smile emerged on her swollen face. After seven years of physical struggle and only moments after eight hours of brain surgery, a tiny swollen face was smiling for one simple reason: because of her daddy's presence. I am writing this story on my daughter's 12th birthday.

She is not only a one-of-a-kind heart thief, she is also a one-of-a-kind teacher.

Of the many lessons she has taught us, one stands out. No matter what you are facing, even if your spiritual eyes are swollen shut and the future is uncertain, if you listen close enough you can hear the words, "Daddy's here." Every time you reach up with the hand of faith you can touch the face of God. Immanuel, God with us. Daddy's here. Let the smiling begin!

Doug Forsberg was on the pastoral staff of Bethany First Church of the Nazarene for nine years prior to serving in his current position as assistant professor of Christian Education at Southern Nazarene University. His wife, Devonna, is a full-time mother to Cherokee, their only child.

Holiness Today, May/June 2006

Please note: This article was originally published in 2006. All facts, figures, and titles were accurate to the best of our knowledge at that time but may have since changed.