Sometimes I don’t even realize I’m trying to control a situation. For a year (or more) the Lord has not moved.
Then I sit back and I reflect.
I think about all the phone calls, the late nights researching, the bookmarks I’ve saved, the groups I have stalked, the tests I have read and reread…..but…
Where was my Jesus?
I realized: ~my depression was stronger ~my prayer life had waned ~my mood was somber ~my temper was short ~my resolve was shorter ~my study life was nonexistent ~my relationships were strained and ~my desire to go to church was void.
On June 17, 2018….I found Jesus again.
I say that knowing that I have always had Jesus. He has never left me or forsaken me. Today, He imprinted on me. He gently turned my head back around to face Him. I allowed things to happen that I would generally never allow, out of fear.
Fear has no place anymore.
As I wheeled my son in church, late, past 1044 people (not really but it seemed like a lot when your baby is in a wheelchair), I kept my head down. I tried not to make eye contact with anyone. If I did, I would melt in a puddle of tears.
Then I turned around.
There stood friend #1 and before I knew it friend #2 walked up. There was a brief moment where I explained a few things. Then I had to walk away because I was fixing to lose it. In no way did I want to release that control and let anyone see me cry. From the hallway, I hurried back into the sanctuary and we were in the middle of worship.
I couldn’t even open my mouth or my eyes.
I just stood there, in the pew, with my head down. There were no thoughts in my head. At that moment, I was trying to hard not to cry because I was with my children. When they began another song, I found myself walking to the altar to pray. My feet were moving without the permission of my mind. I knelt down….and still, there were no words in my head, out of my mouth, I just sat there and absorbed the music.
As I was praying, I felt a hand and I looked over and Ms. Mamoo was praying over me. She is the most eccentric woman, I have ever met. She is stunning with bright blonde and pink hair. Her legs are to die for and she is about 86 years old. There is a strength in her. She kept telling me to “hold on” that healing would happen. That I need to hold on. I felt my body release. Then, I heard these sounds that in thinking back, was me moaning in an animalistic type of way.
The music stopped.
I scurried through a door to gather myself, alone for a moment. I walked around the corner to check on Hunter. He was beginning to meltdown because he could not pick up a whale snack. He kept dropping it and shaking. As I went in to help him, the ladies said there was a man at the door that wanted to speak to me.
I have never seen him before.
This man was emotional and he asked me to bear with him. He said he saw me wheel my son past him. That he felt the Lord leading him to pray over him. At that moment, he asked permission to do so. I went back in the room and scooped Hunter up. In his next request, he asked me if he could hold Hunter. I was okay with it…strangely, so was Hunter. Hunter was completely at ease with this man.
What a beautiful prayer of healing this man prayed over my son, in the hallway of the church. I will never remember all the words he said. I do remember the stillness of Hunter. The electricity that was in that little huddle and the tears that were shed by me and this man. I was humbled.
Our sermon was on faith and how you have to basically tie a knot at the end of the last thread you are hanging onto. You must trust that if you slip, you will land on Jesus’ hand. This sermon was exactly what I’ve been battling with for the month or so. Jesus has been working on me to have faith. To stand strong, to release control because He knew Hunter before He created the earth. He knew who would carry him and He knew who was going to raise him. God knew that Hunter would go through this. He already the perfect provision in mind if I would just get out of the way and stop controlling the situation.
At the end…
I went to get my son. Hunter was gently placed in his chair and I wheeled him into the sanctuary. Looking up, I saw Richie, our pastor, and before I knew what I was doing, I wheeled him up to the altar. At that moment…..the Lord gave me another huge chunk of my rainbow. As I looked up, people from all over the sanctuary were coming forward to lay hands on Hunter, Bart, and me. Mamoo anointed him with oil, as she prayed.
There stood men and women, of all ages and children…..all I could hear was a gentle roar of prayers being spoken over our son. In the midst of that, I felt a hand on my shoulder….it was a familiar hand, with a familiar smell, and a slight tremor….Ms. Jan, through the crowd, touched me. I never saw her face…I just felt the warmth of her hand and I could hone in on her voice. Hunter never moved. He never cried. He just sat there and took it all in.