The Works of God Made Manifest

By Bronwyn Haws, Utah, USA

I didn’t know if I would be healed or remain blind. I just knew that God’s will would be done and that He would carry me through my trial.

woman working on a painting of the Savior

On January 7, 2023, I woke up to complete blindness in my right eye and only about 10 percent vision in my left eye. The world had suddenly faded to gray—literally. Color and light were gone. I was left in darkness, fear, and doubt.

As an artist, all I ever wanted to do was add to the beauty of the world through art—a passion I have had nearly my entire life. What would I do if I could no longer see, participate in, or appreciate beauty in the world?

A few days earlier, my eyes became sensitive to light, and sharp lines of light began flashing in my vision. Concerned, I went to see an optometrist. After examining me, he said a buildup of cerebrospinal fluid was causing pressure in my skull, creating symptoms that mimic a brain tumor, including vision loss.

He told me my vision would decrease slowly over the next several months if left untreated. He assured me, however, that I had plenty of time to find a neurologist, who could treat the fluid buildup.

Worried, I asked for a blessing of healing and comfort from my father, who serves as a bishop. As he and one of his counselors blessed me, my favorite Bible story came into my mind:

“And his disciples asked him, saying, Master, who did sin, this man, or his parents, that he was born blind?

“Jesus answered, Neither hath this man sinned, nor his parents: but that the works of God should be made manifest in him” (John 9:2–3).

Over and over in my mind, I thought, “God’s power is going to be manifest in this.” I didn’t know if that meant I would be healed or remain blind. I just knew that His will would be done and that He would carry me through my trial.

“How Many Fingers Can You See?”

I had an appointment scheduled a few days later with a neurologist, but that January morning, my older sister, Kylie, felt prompted that my family should take me to the emergency room at a nearby hospital. Doctors quickly ordered a computed tomography (CT) scan and the first of several spinal taps to reduce cerebrospinal fluid pressure. The next day, I had two MRIs (magnetic resonance imaging). Then an ophthalmologist examined me.

“How many fingers can you see?” he asked, holding up several fingers right in from of my face. I couldn’t see anything.

After his examination, he concluded that I had symptoms of both pseudotumor cerebri and optic neuritis. Neither condition on its own seemed fully responsible. He explained that with the severity of my vision loss, recovery could take over a year and that my vision might not fully return. He recommended a high dose of intravenous steroids and other medication.

After he left, I started crying. My mother reassured me, “If you can’t hold on to your faith right now, you can rely on ours.”

“Please Comfort Me”

On my third day in the hospital, my neurologist requested an MRV (magnetic resonance venography) of my spinal column and brain, looking for a tumor or blockage. At 4:00 a.m. two days after I woke up blind, I began a five-hour MRV. In preparation, my family planned to pray and fast for me that morning. My father, who slept by my side on a bench each night in my hospital room, gave me another blessing—the second of several blessings I received.

When a hospital technician asked if I wanted to listen to music during my test, I asked for songs from my favorite singer. The tech placed a set of rubber earphones into my ears and pinned my head down with a facial mesh to hold me in place. In the process, he bumped the headphones nearly out of my ears. I could barely hear any music as the MRV began.

The longer the procedure took, the hotter I felt inside the tubular imaging machine. After what seemed like forever, I was told I was doing great and to keep going a little longer. But I felt scared and distraught from the heat, loud sounds, and constraints holding me still.

In silent prayer, I cried out: “Heavenly Father, please comfort me. I’m so alone. I need Thy help. I need my family.”

Immediately, a soft piano chord echoed in my ears. It was from one of my favorite songs—one that my younger sister, Morgan, plays on the piano. I would not have expected to hear it from the loose earphones over the noise of the machine. It seemed like Morgan was with me, and I wasn’t alone. The noise went away. The heat went away. The claustrophobia went away.

I felt out of my body, like I was floating on a sea in space. I felt surrounded by God’s love and by my family’s love. Just like that, I was calm. It was 7:30 a.m., the time my family started fasting for me. The rest of the five-hour MRV passed in an instant, and then I heard, “You’re done.”

The love I felt from that experience left me in tears and eased the weariness I felt during the rest of my stay in the hospital. I didn’t know if my sight would return, but I knew that God was there and had heard my prayer. After four days in the hospital, I was released.

“This Is Miraculous!”

Each day for the next two weeks, I returned to the hospital for medication, and each day I looked for changes in my vision—dark gray fading to lighter gray, silhouettes appearing around my fingers in front of my face, an orange blur on the TV turning into a flower. Every slight improvement was a win.

Two weeks after I was released, a test showed that my vision had gone from zero to almost perfect in both eyes.

“Bronwyn, what has happened?” my ophthalmologist asked.

“Well, we’ve been praying, and I’ve received blessings,” I answered.

“This is miraculous!” he said. “I’ve never seen this happen. We shouldn’t have results even near this for at least six months.”

Later he told me that patients who have zero vision seldom regain normal vision. In a matter of weeks, I had gone from one of his worst cases to his best case.

“Follow the Light of Christ”

At the end of 2022, leaders in my father’s ward chose a ward theme for 2023. It was inspired by teachings from President Russell M. Nelson, who earlier that year had said, “Seek and expect miracles.”

At the time, my father thought the theme would help ward members who were enduring hard times. He had no idea it would become so personal to our family.

“Follow the light of Christ,” the theme read. “Expect miracles! Expect joy!”

Two years later, my vision is better now than it was before I lost it. I thank Heavenly Father every day for my miracle and for my family’s unwavering faith. Through this trial, God’s work manifested itself. I grew a stronger testimony, a deeper appreciation for life, and a greater love for Him and for family and friends.

Today, I am doing everything I can, including as an artist, to make the most of the blessings, gifts, and joy God has given me—to glorify Him and to bless others.

portrait of the Savior — Today, Bronwyn uses her art, like this illustration of the Savior, to glorify God and to bless others.