Prayers for Life: Why Miracles Are Still Happening Every Day – An Interview with Jan Casebolt

What if the worst moments of your childhood were quietly preparing you for the biggest miracle of your life?

Jan Casebolt was twelve years old when she grabbed the steering wheel of a Volkswagen van to keep her mother from driving the family off a cliff. Shortly after, she lost her mother to suicide, watched her siblings get separated into foster care, and learned to survive by talking directly to God and the angels — long before anyone taught her how to pray. Decades later, when an incurable autoimmune disease called sarcoidosis left her bedridden and blind in one eye, Jan turned to the only thing that had never failed her…faith. What followed was a healing so sudden, so complete, and so medically documented that it defies every conventional explanation. 

In this conversation, Jan shares the raw, unfiltered story behind the miracle and why she believes the same power is available to anyone willing to open themselves up to it.

Her story is featured in our upcoming anthology book Sacred Bonds: Heartfelt Stories of Mothers and the Lives They Shape, releasing April 27th, 2026, just in time for Mother’s Day. Join the Book Launch Team here.

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What do you sense your calling is right now?

Jan Casebolt: My calling right now—what I feel most passionate about—is sharing the good news that miracles are 100% possible. Despite what you see in the headlines, despite whatever circumstances may be happening, miracles are unfolding every day. God is still here on this planet. Angelic beings are here, helping and guiding us.

That is my mission—to share with as many people as I can that miracles are possible.

Having experienced my own life-saving miracle 11 years ago, I now see each day as a gift and a chance to make a difference in the world. I feel deeply passionate about that.

You do something called prayer facilitation—is that right?

Jan Casebolt: That’s correct—prayer facilitation, yes.

Take us back to your chapter in Sacred Bonds. You open with such a gripping scene. I want you to take us back to that 12-year-old girl—what was daily life like for you growing up?

Jan Casebolt: You know, there have been many lifetimes within my life, and even my childhood held so many different situations and family dynamics. It began with my father passing away when I was 10. From that point on, the traditional family model was shaken. I was the eldest child, and my mother experienced a rapid decline after his passing.

Leading up to the incident I describe in the opening of my chapter, I became the “little parent.” I was the most functional member of the household at a very early age. Life was very busy, and I had to become extremely responsible. I was helping my family—my younger siblings and myself—survive day-to-day life.

Was your mom just checked out in grief, or what was she dealing with?

Jan Casebolt: Yes… I could write volumes about that alone. My mom was very much checked out in her grief. She had actually been very spiritually attuned—psychic and intuitive—but she began spending time with people who were using recreational drugs.

Looking back now as an adult, I can see how that may have opened her up to negative energies. I believe that contributed to her state of mind and her inability to function in the way the mom I know and love would have wanted.

That level of dysfunction, grief, and downward spiral left me in the position of being in charge at 11 and 12 years old.

As you were taking care of your siblings, what was going on inside of you? Did you feel like your childhood was being taken from you, or was it more like, “This is what I have to do”?

Jan Casebolt: It was very much day-to-day—“This is what I have to do.”

I was also very fortunate, even at a young age, to feel connected to what I would call my guardian angel. I had a strong sense that I was here for something bigger than just day-to-day life, and that I was protected.

I would pray and talk to angels and to God. In those challenging moments, that became my compass. I would ask for help—literally say, “God, help me. I’ve got to get my siblings to school.” I had never been formally taught how to pray—it just came naturally.

That became my mantra: asking the divine for help.

Had you gone to church, or had you grown up with religion at all?

Jan Casebolt: No, not really. My father was a very intelligent, successful civil engineer for the Marine Corps—very left-brained, not religious. We didn’t go to church as a family.

My mom had become somewhat of an atheist, even though she did believe in God. When she realized I was talking to angels and God, she didn’t shut it down. She was compassionate and helped me navigate it, which I’m very grateful for.

Interestingly, when I was around five, six, or seven years old, I would ask to go to church. My parents were open-minded enough to let me explore that. They would drop me off or let me go with a neighbor or a friend.

So I was able to develop my own spirituality without being confined to a specific religion.

Take us to the moment in the Volkswagen van. What happened?

Jan Casebolt: Leading up to that moment, there were many situations where things felt unsafe—where our physical well-being was on the line.

At that moment, we were in the van and very nearly drove off a cliff. I truly believe there was divine intervention. There is no logical explanation for how a 12-year-old without a driver’s license could respond in that moment, cry out for help, and turn the wheel in exactly the right way to save us.

It was dramatic, yes—but it really happened. I would not be here today if there hadn’t been divine help.

Was your mom intentionally trying to drive off the cliff?

Jan Casebolt: I believe that whatever state of mind she was in—or whatever was coming through her at that time—yes, there was an intention to drive us off the cliff.

She did take her own life shortly afterward. So yes, I believe that was her intention in that moment.

And you grabbed the wheel and pulled the car back?

Jan Casebolt: Yes. I turned the wheel, and we veered back onto the road. That sudden movement seemed to snap her out of it. She went from this hysterical, almost movie-like laughter to stopping the car, listening to me, and crying.

It was an instant and dramatic shift.

What did you say to her?

Jan Casebolt: I yelled, “What are you doing? Stop the car.”

I’m not advocating for 12-year-olds yelling at their parents—but in that situation, I was in a very different role. I had been pushed into a kind of parental authority because of the circumstances.

Did you use the F word in that moment?

Jan Casebolt: (laughs) Yes… yes, I did.

How were you making sense of your mom back then—the beautiful parts of her and these terrifying moments?

Jan Casebolt: At that age, I wasn’t really reconciling it. I was in survival mode.

My focus was on taking care of my younger siblings. I’ve always had a big heart for helping others, especially those in need. And as the oldest, I had already taken on responsibility early on—but over time, that responsibility became much more intense.

Life was lived moment-to-moment. I didn’t have the space or luxury to process everything.

It wasn’t until I was around 19 or 20, after I had moved to Hawaii, that I could finally take a deep breath, look at my life, and begin to reconcile and heal.

One of the most heartbreaking parts of your story was when you called your grandmother and tried to explain what was happening—and she didn’t believe you. Can you take us into the moment when your mother took her life and how it all unfolded?

Jan Casebolt: Yes… that has obviously been a very traumatic part of my childhood and my life. It shaped me in many ways that I’m continuing to explore and unfold. I believe healing—no matter the size of the trauma—is a continual process. As we grow and evolve, new layers come forward to be understood, integrated, and released.

At the time, though, I didn’t process it like that. Especially right after it happened, I really just glossed over it. That was the only way I knew how to cope.

We had been split up and placed into foster care for a time, and before that, I was already functioning in this “young parent” role. I would get off the school bus, run home, make sure my baby sister was okay, assess what my mom was doing, and decide if we needed to go to a neighbor’s house for help. It was constant—just taking stock of the situation and doing whatever needed to be done.

That day, I walked into the house and could immediately feel that something wasn’t right. My mom had been unpacking after a recent move and was burning photographs in the fireplace. I secured my baby sister first, then I became upset. I probably dropped a few F-bombs and went into action mode—cleaning the house, preparing for dinner, trying to create some kind of order.

I remember being on my hands and knees, scrubbing the kitchen floor. She came to me with tears in her eyes—just this deep, unforgettable grief on her face. She asked me to stop what I was doing and come with her—to take the kids and go to the park, to just have fun together.

But I wasn’t in a position to receive that. I was in survival mode. I told her we couldn’t just pretend everything was okay—that I needed to finish what I was doing. So I kept scrubbing, and she stood there for a moment, then walked away.

That was the last time I saw her alive.

A few minutes later, my younger brother—he was about seven—came running in, very upset, saying, “Jan, come quick, Mom’s been hurt.” I dropped everything and ran to her.

She was still alive, technically—she was breathing—but it was a deep, gurgling breath. She was in the process of dying. I dropped to my knees, held her hands, and started praying over her, talking to her, telling her I loved her, that it would be okay—just doing whatever I could in that moment.

I told one of my siblings to go get the neighbor, to get help. And from there, everything unfolded.

She had taken her own life.

There’s more detail in the book about what happened next, but that moment itself was incredibly life-changing. And in that moment, I didn’t fall apart—I went into action. I’ve always had a strong fight-or-flight response. Even now, in emergencies, I act first and process later.

But as a 12-year-old, that meant I pushed the trauma aside. I had too much to handle—my siblings, calling my grandmother, everything that needed to be done. So I tucked it away somewhere deep until I was finally able to process it later in life.

What was it like going through foster care, being separated from your siblings, and then navigating adoption?

Jan Casebolt: Even hearing you say that now brings up emotion… because that was one of the hardest parts for me.

I had already been in that “little parent” role for quite some time. I was very close to my siblings, and when my baby sister was born, it was such a joyful moment for me. I had always wanted a little sister, and I felt deeply connected to all of them.

So when she was adopted out—informally—to a family who couldn’t have children, and my brothers and I were placed into foster care, it was devastating. I wanted us to stay together. I loved them, and I had essentially been their caregiver.

But at 12 years old, it was completely out of my control. There wasn’t anything I could do except move forward with what was in front of me.

Do you have a relationship with your siblings now?

Jan Casebolt: I do, and I’m so grateful for that. My sister—the baby at the time—we’re very close. She lives nearby in San Diego, and I see her as often as I can.

I’m also very close with my brothers. We are a family unit—we love each other, we support each other, and we’re all doing well. That, to me, is a miracle in itself.

What we went through brought us closer in many ways. We have a deep bond, and I’m incredibly grateful that we’re all healthy, happy, and connected today.

You mentioned earlier that you moved to Hawaii around 18. How did that happen, and how did it begin your healing journey?

Jan Casebolt: Moving to Hawaii was a big part of my healing journey.

After my mother’s death, my siblings and I went into foster care, and that experience added more layers of trauma rather than helping me heal. So when I graduated from high school, I knew I wanted to go out on my own. I didn’t know exactly where, but I felt a strong need to change direction and create a different life for myself.

A high school friend invited me to Hawaii for our graduation trip. I had never been on an airplane before and didn’t know much about Hawaii, but I said yes. We stayed with her aunt and uncle, and from the moment I arrived, I fell in love with it.

I remember stepping off the plane—the smell of the flowers, the natural beauty, the grounding energy of the land. There was something about it that felt deeply healing. For me, physically leaving California and creating distance from my past was important. But it was also the warmth of the people and the environment in Hawaii that truly embraced me and supported my healing.

Along the way, different resources and teachers came into your life—Louise Hay, John Bradshaw, EMDR, and even Bible College. What helped you most in your healing process?

Jan Casebolt: It really started with my great aunt—my grandmother’s sister. She was very into New Thought and what people might call “New Age” practices. For my 17th birthday, she gave me You Can Heal Your Life by Louise Hay.

I brought the book with me to Hawaii, and that summer I finally read it. It talks about trauma, how it can manifest in the body, and how healing can begin through awareness and thought patterns. That book helped me realize, for the first time, that I had actually experienced trauma.

Up until then, I had just been surviving. I hadn’t even named it.

That awareness opened the door. I began using her meditations, exploring spiritual healing, and seeing my life differently—not just as something that happened to me, but as a journey that could teach and transform me.

Once I opened to healing, more support started to show up. I truly believe that when you’re ready, guidance appears—whether you call it God, angels, or your higher self. It’s like a breadcrumb trail.

For me, that led to a very progressive church that introduced me to incredible teachers like John Bradshaw and other healing modalities, including inner child work. That’s also where I went through Bible college, which became a five-year journey.

But it wasn’t about religion in a traditional sense. I learned to see the Bible as a living document, centered on the idea that God loves you and that you are supported by spiritual guidance. That perspective deeply resonated with me and helped me experience spirituality as something alive and practical in everyday life.

You later found yourself in a marriage that reflected some familiar patterns—an empath and narcissist dynamic. At what point did you recognize that this wasn’t working for you?

Jan Casebolt: In the beginning, when I started noticing that the relationship wasn’t healthy, I did what many empaths do—I thought I could fix it. I believed I could heal the dynamic through workshops, counseling, prayer facilitation—whatever tools I could find.

But the truth is, each person has to choose their own healing. You can’t do that work for someone else.

For a relationship to evolve, both people have to be willing to acknowledge what’s happening and take responsibility. And in many empath–narcissist dynamics, the narcissist isn’t motivated to change because the relationship is already serving them.

At a certain point, I realized that if I wanted to continue growing, I had to set boundaries and step away. As the empath, I had to take responsibility for my own path and choose a different direction.

You write about developing an autoimmune condition called sarcoidosis, describing it as beginning in “the fertile soil of childhood trauma and repressed emotions.” Can you tell us what sarcoidosis is, how it manifests, and how you connected it to your earlier experiences?

Jan Casebolt: It’s funny you say you hadn’t heard of it, because when I was diagnosed, I hadn’t either. I remember laughing and saying, “Sarcoidosis? That sounds like sarcophagus—like a burial tomb in Egypt. What is that?”

It’s one of many conditions classified as an autoimmune disorder—meaning modern medicine doesn’t yet know the exact cause, and there’s officially no cure. It’s a highly inflammatory disease that creates internal scarring in the body. These clusters of inflammation, called granulomas, can form in different organs and tissues, causing damage, pain, and dysfunction.

In my case, it affected my autonomic nervous system, my heart, my joints, and even my left eye. I lost vision for a period of time. It came on very suddenly—I went from hiking to the top of Catalina Island to being unable to walk within days. It was rapid and intense.

Over time, I began to see autoimmune conditions as a kind of umbrella term—used when there isn’t yet a clear explanation or cure. The medical approach often focuses on managing symptoms with things like steroids or other medications, but there isn’t always a deeper understanding of why it’s happening.

For me, I began to see a connection between what I had experienced emotionally—childhood trauma, suppressed feelings—and what was happening in my body.

How did this condition impact your life at that time?

Jan Casebolt: It impacted every part of my life.

I went from being active and healthy to being bedridden. I couldn’t see out of my left eye, I couldn’t walk, and I could barely function. Within a few months, my condition steadily declined. At one point, I truly believed I was dying—and the medical prognosis supported that, especially because my heart was involved.

There was talk of a possible heart transplant, but even that wasn’t a guaranteed solution. I wasn’t willing to go that route, and so I found myself coming to terms with the idea that this might be the end of my life.

It wasn’t an easy place to be—but it did deepen my faith.

I started to take stock of everything—my life, my relationships, my inner world. I focused on forgiveness. I turned more fully toward my spiritual path. And I prayed.

I would say, “God, if it’s my time, then I accept that. But if there’s a miracle available to me—if there’s a way to continue—please show me.”

At the same time, I explored every possible avenue. I went to top medical institutions like the Cleveland Clinic, tried different treatments, changed my diet, and explored holistic approaches. I spent an enormous amount of time, energy, and money searching for answers.

But eventually, after hitting so many dead ends, I realized I needed to open myself fully to something beyond conventional solutions.

And this was around 2012?

Jan Casebolt: Yes, that’s right.

So what happened from there? Was your healing gradual, or did something shift more suddenly?

Jan Casebolt: I have a beautiful update.

I recently reached the 10-year mark of being completely sarcoidosis-free. I went back and did all the medical testing—CAT scans, blood work, inflammation markers—and everything came back clear.

I truly believe I experienced a spiritual healing miracle.

That moment in my life became a turning point. It’s why I created my platform, and why I feel so called to share this message. Because I want people to know that miracles are possible.

We often think of miracles as something that happened thousands of years ago—but I don’t believe they ever stopped. God is still here. Healing is still happening. There is support available to us beyond what we can always see or explain.

And I’m living proof of that.

How did this miracle happen? How did it unfold for you?

Jan Casebolt: At that point, I had tried everything. I was working with doctors, exploring holistic healing, juicing turmeric—really doing everything I could on a physical level.

Then, almost by chance, I was invited to a workshop with a spiritual healer who was in town. I didn’t know much about him and didn’t have any expectations. But I thought, “Why not? I have nothing to lose.” I believed in God. I believed miracles were possible. So I went.

During that workshop, I experienced what I can only describe as a spiritual healing miracle. The healer, Master John Douglas, is incredibly humble and gifted. The best way I can explain it is that he has a kind of clairvoyant awareness of the body—an ability to perceive what doesn’t belong within the physiology.

Through prayer, he was able to target what he identified as underlying causes within my body. And within minutes—literally within two minutes—I felt the inflammation and pain leave. It started at the top of my body and drained downward, like it was exiting through the floor.

I went from an eight out of ten pain level to zero.

I stood up and started dancing around the room. I was in complete shock and gratitude. That moment changed everything for me.

It’s the reason I do the work I do now. It’s why I feel called to share this message—because I’m still here, and I believe it’s to let people know that miracles are real and still happening.

What did your family and friends say after this? Were they supportive or skeptical?

Jan Casebolt: That’s a great question, because everyone has their own level of belief.

Even though people could see that I was healthy again—walking, living fully, with clear medical tests—there was still skepticism. Even within spiritual communities, people sometimes try to explain it away or place limits on what’s possible.

I think we’re conditioned to doubt. We’re surrounded by fear-based messaging, and it can be hard for people to fully accept something that challenges their understanding of reality.

But for me, it’s very simple—I would not be here today otherwise. And yet I am. Healthy, happy, and able to share my story.

For those who are listening and hoping for a miracle themselves, how do you reconcile your healing with others who don’t experience that?

Jan Casebolt: That’s such an important question.

For me, I had reached a place where I truly had nothing left to lose. I had exhausted every option. And in that place, I was able to fully open to the possibility of a miracle.

I had 100% faith that it was possible.

That doesn’t mean it’s easy. Pain, disappointment, and repeated setbacks can wear people down. There are also situations where people lose hope because they’ve tried so many things that didn’t work.

But I believe even a small opening—a tiny willingness to believe that something more is possible—can shift everything.

If you can allow even a drop of faith, that can become something much bigger. It creates space for something new to enter.

Tell us about your work with Prayers 4 Life. How do people work with you, and what does that process look like?

Jan Casebolt: Over the past ten years, since my healing, I’ve been offering what I call prayer facilitation. Most people have found me through word of mouth.

Typically, someone reaches out through my website and shares a bit about what they’re going through. Then we schedule a call, where they can speak openly about their situation—whether it’s physical, emotional, or spiritual.

During that conversation, I begin to tune into deeper layers of what’s happening. I receive insights beyond what’s being said, and I take notes as we talk.

After the session, the deeper work continues. I go into prayer and connect with the spiritual guidance I work with, focusing on their situation. That’s where the real transformation begins.

I also follow up with a detailed message—sharing what came through, along with practical steps. That might include a meditation, a resource, or specific practices they can use in their daily life.

I believe healing is participatory. People need tools to support their own growth and integration.

Where can people connect with you?

Jan Casebolt: The best place is my website, www.prayers4life.com. You can reach out directly there, and I’d be happy to connect.

I’m also on Instagram and Facebook, but the website is the easiest way to start a conversation.

If someone is struggling right now—with family, relationships, or life circumstances—what would you offer as a first step?

Jan Casebolt: I would say the fact that they’re here—reading this or listening—is already a step forward.

Often, that’s how guidance begins. A small nudge. A moment of awareness. A sense that something needs to shift.

I truly believe we are meant to live joyful, connected lives. And sometimes, the challenges we face are invitations to grow, to heal, and to realign with who we really are.

If someone is struggling, I would encourage them to reach out—whether to me or to any source of support that resonates with them. Stay open. Stay curious.

Because from that place, change becomes possible.

Jan, thank you for sharing your story and your heart with us.

Jan Casebolt: Thank you, David. Truly—thank you.