The cancer had spread through her abdomen. Surgery carried enough risk to cost her some of the time she had left, and in her case, what normally follows surgery offered no realistic chance of turning it around.
She was a hairdresser. She owned a small salon. Her daughter was fifteen. Her marriage had ended a few months before the diagnosis.
She went home and started putting her documents in order, thinking about her daughter.
Then seven weeks began.
Forty-nine days. A passage of Scripture for each week. A purpose for each week. Monday nights at eight, in an ordinary living room.
I was there for all of it.
Three injections
Somewhere inside those seven weeks, three injections became part of that story. At the time, none of us understood why that number mattered. The pastor had seen something before any of it happened, and what that meant would only become clear later.
At the end of the forty-nine days, Ana went back to her doctor. She told him she was feeling well. She had stopped taking morphine. She asked to be examined again.
He ordered new exams.
I'm not going to tell you what came back.
Not as a marketing trick — but because you deserve to arrive at that moment the way we did. After seven weeks, not after seven lines.
Why I'm telling this story
I wasn't the believer in the room. I was the skeptic.
My name is Igor Aleixo, and I did not walk into that room believing.
I grew up in a Christian family — my grandfather pastored a church, my grandmother was a missionary. By eighteen, I had begun looking elsewhere for answers: the law of attraction, quantum physics, ideas that seemed capable of explaining the universe without requiring faith from me. I never stopped believing God existed. I questioned nearly everything else.
The pastor was a bricklayer. He never raised his voice, never asked anyone for money, never turned any of it into a show. For the first few meetings, I didn't even stay.
On the last night, he asked if he could pray for me. Then he described a gray car with its front end destroyed. A house with two gates. Decisions I was certain he had no way of knowing.
My first reaction wasn't faith. It was anger. I was convinced my mother had told him everything, and I confronted her the next day. She hadn't.
I spent months looking for an explanation I could live with. I never found one.
A few weeks later, Ana walked into my mother's living room holding her daughter's arm, and I heard the words cancer and six months. I stayed to see what would happen.
Two journeys, one book.
The first is Ana's. The second is yours.
Ana's journey
The diagnosis
The prognosis
Seven weeks
Three injections
The return to the doctor
Told as it happened, by someone who was in the room and expected nothing.
Your journey
These same seven weeks became a journey you can actually walk — built around two encounters with Jesus.
A woman who had been bleeding for twelve years and pushed through a crowd to reach the edge of His garment. And a Roman centurion who believed Jesus didn't even need to enter his house.
It is not a promise that your story will end like Ana's. It is an invitation to reflect, to pray, to face what looks impossible, and to discover what faith means when life offers no easy answers.
What we're creating
Exclusive hardcover
An edition designed specifically for this campaign. The story will continue in other editions — but this one will not become the retail edition.
My 49-Day Journey
The guided journal. The book tells the story; the journal gives you a place to walk it, one day at a time.
Digital edition
The complete digital edition of Miracles Still Happen, for readers who want to carry the story wherever they are.
The manuscript is written. The story is complete. What remains is the work of turning it into these editions.
Final English preparation and translation
Editing and proofreading
Finalizing the guided journal
Printing and production
Fulfillment and shipping
If a date moves, you'll hear it from me directly, with the reason, before the date passes — not after.
This is not a testimony of healing offered as medical advice. Ana remained under medical care throughout and returned to her doctor for new exams. This book does not promise a cure or any specific medical outcome.
Begin the journey
You still don't know what the new exams showed. That's intentional.
