At the end of January or beginning of February, the children and I had an unforgettable experience of God's power. It was a Wednesday evening and we had gone to church for the weekly prayer meeting and children's activities. Once we returned home, the boys were in high spirits, running up and down the hall and into their room, the bathroom, and the living room, turning lights on and off, hiding behind doors and shutting them suddenly. I was just about to tell them it was time to settle down, brush teeth and go to bed when I heard a slam, and then the kind of shrieking that sends shivers down your spine and makes you wonder what kind of medical attention will be needed.
E5 had been behind the bathroom door when someone turned off the light and slammed the door, and his pinky finger was caught between the door and frame on the hinge side of the door. The door refused to open, and little E5 was stuck in the dark, in pain and terrified. When I ran into the hallway, E14 was trying to open the door and failing. I assumed it was locked, and shot into my room to search for a long thin object to unlock the door. After trying for what seemed an impossibly long time, the door just wouldn't unlock, and was still jammed shut. By this time I was becoming frantic - the screaming had not died down. I began praying loudly and desperately that God would help us get the door open. Both E14 and I tried body slamming the door, and it still didn't move. Finally, E14 suggested getting into the bathroom through the window, which was only possible by breaking the glass louvers. He grabbed a ladder and a rock, and E5's shrieks were punctuated by the sound of shattering glass. Meanwhile I kept praying and shoving, and before E14 had to figure out how to navigate through a small opening surrounded by sharp glass, the door sprung open.
I turned on the light and looked at E5's finger. It had been caught lengthwise, and was about half as thick as it should have been. It was a purplish red from lack of blood flow. I grabbed ice in a rag and cradled my little boy as I thought about what to do next, trying not to be anxious about the cost of an ER visit and what would become of E5's enjoyment of piano. The other children were shaken; H8 was in tears. I couldn't leave P15 in charge without spending a little time trying to calm their nerves. So before leaving for the ER, I decided to spend some time praying for E5's finger to recover completely and be just as useful as it was before it had been jammed in the door. After about 5 minutes, E5 pulled his hand out from the icy rag.
His finger was perfect.
I didn't believe it at first. I looked at it, and saw no bruising or discoloration. The size was back to normal. I asked him if he could bend it, and he did, without the slightest flinch of pain. There was no sign that anything had happened at all. I moved it around, and he was completely calm with no sign of discomfort. I decided to send the boys to bed, half expecting E5 to be up and in pain later. He slept solidly all night long. The next day he practiced piano without anyone suggesting he do so. There was never the faintest hint of bruising or swelling.
When I was 5 years old, I also had an experience of God's power in answering prayer. My family was benighted on an unfamiliar trail and clouds were covering the moon, so I prayed that God would move the clouds from the moon. My dad remembers thinking, "Oh, Lord, why did she have to pray that? This is the time of day when the sea breeze always pushes more clouds over the land - there's no way the moon will stay clear!" The remainder of our hike, clouds gathered and covered more and more of the sky, but never covered the moon's face. We had the light we needed to make it back to the parking lot. As we walked up to our car, the moon disappeared behind the clouds.
I am so blessed that my littlest boy was also granted a powerful, memorable experience of God's answer to prayer at such a young age. My children all saw me desperate and helpless, frantically calling on God because I was out of ideas, and they saw God come through for us in a way more tangible than any of us anticipated. My prayer now is that each of them will know and never forget the love God showed us all that night.
E5 had been behind the bathroom door when someone turned off the light and slammed the door, and his pinky finger was caught between the door and frame on the hinge side of the door. The door refused to open, and little E5 was stuck in the dark, in pain and terrified. When I ran into the hallway, E14 was trying to open the door and failing. I assumed it was locked, and shot into my room to search for a long thin object to unlock the door. After trying for what seemed an impossibly long time, the door just wouldn't unlock, and was still jammed shut. By this time I was becoming frantic - the screaming had not died down. I began praying loudly and desperately that God would help us get the door open. Both E14 and I tried body slamming the door, and it still didn't move. Finally, E14 suggested getting into the bathroom through the window, which was only possible by breaking the glass louvers. He grabbed a ladder and a rock, and E5's shrieks were punctuated by the sound of shattering glass. Meanwhile I kept praying and shoving, and before E14 had to figure out how to navigate through a small opening surrounded by sharp glass, the door sprung open.
I turned on the light and looked at E5's finger. It had been caught lengthwise, and was about half as thick as it should have been. It was a purplish red from lack of blood flow. I grabbed ice in a rag and cradled my little boy as I thought about what to do next, trying not to be anxious about the cost of an ER visit and what would become of E5's enjoyment of piano. The other children were shaken; H8 was in tears. I couldn't leave P15 in charge without spending a little time trying to calm their nerves. So before leaving for the ER, I decided to spend some time praying for E5's finger to recover completely and be just as useful as it was before it had been jammed in the door. After about 5 minutes, E5 pulled his hand out from the icy rag.
His finger was perfect.
I didn't believe it at first. I looked at it, and saw no bruising or discoloration. The size was back to normal. I asked him if he could bend it, and he did, without the slightest flinch of pain. There was no sign that anything had happened at all. I moved it around, and he was completely calm with no sign of discomfort. I decided to send the boys to bed, half expecting E5 to be up and in pain later. He slept solidly all night long. The next day he practiced piano without anyone suggesting he do so. There was never the faintest hint of bruising or swelling.
When I was 5 years old, I also had an experience of God's power in answering prayer. My family was benighted on an unfamiliar trail and clouds were covering the moon, so I prayed that God would move the clouds from the moon. My dad remembers thinking, "Oh, Lord, why did she have to pray that? This is the time of day when the sea breeze always pushes more clouds over the land - there's no way the moon will stay clear!" The remainder of our hike, clouds gathered and covered more and more of the sky, but never covered the moon's face. We had the light we needed to make it back to the parking lot. As we walked up to our car, the moon disappeared behind the clouds.
I am so blessed that my littlest boy was also granted a powerful, memorable experience of God's answer to prayer at such a young age. My children all saw me desperate and helpless, frantically calling on God because I was out of ideas, and they saw God come through for us in a way more tangible than any of us anticipated. My prayer now is that each of them will know and never forget the love God showed us all that night.
1 comment:
I could feel your son’s pain and almost held my breath as I was reading your story. I was so relieved it had a happy ending. God is so good!
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