Cradled in Prayer

A Sunday morning trip to the emergency room, was an opportunity to see Jesus at every turn.

On Sunday morning, my seventeen year old daughter, came downstairs saying she wasn’t feeling well. She said her stomach had been hurting all night. Her face was covered in sweat and then she dropped to her knees at the trash can.

My hubby immediately suspected appendicitis and said we needed to go to the emergency room. I wasn’t convinced. She was obviously sick, but there are a lot of stomach bugs going around. She said she was feeling much better, but he was insistent and having had a ruptured appendix many years before, I trusted his judgement.

We brushed our teeth and put on some clothes and headed to the emergency room. There are two hospitals in our area and both are good, but one is Catholic and very open about Jesus, so that was our choice. There’s something about a hospital that has a cross hanging in every room, that I find comforting. As my daughter would later say, “Jesus was in every room I went into.”

Indeed He was.

We were treated with great kindness from everyone who crossed our paths, from the registrar, to nurses, to our doctor, to our radiologist, to the nice lady who took out the trash, and every single kindness extended to us, went noticed by this mama.

When we got the appendicitis diagnosis and were told she would need surgery, I posted a picture on Facebook and asked for prayers. We had the first prayers sent up on our behalf within minutes. Within the hour, my phone had buzzed 25 times with people offering up prayers for my daughter and each one made me a little stronger.

Our pastor arrived and he talked with her and prayed over her and the minute he finished, the surgeon walked in.

In a day that could have been filled with fear and anxiety, I literally felt like we were being cradled in prayer. All day long, into the evening the prayer notifications continued. I heard from childhood friends, high school friends, family, my daughter’s former teachers, coworkers, my church family, our Salkehatchie family and other members of my faith family.

Each time, the message was something short and simple like, “prayers for her,” or “prayers going up.”

That’s all it took to bring peace to my soul.

For all of its negativity and for all of the political rants and ugliness that can plague it, Facebook became a holy place for me last weekend, a place where the light of Christ shone like a beacon. On reflection, I realize it can always be that way, if we choose to make it so.

The surgery went perfectly. Her appendix had not ruptured. The surgeon told us it took him like twenty minutes. We went home that night.

It’s been a few days and my daughter is on the mend. In the end, I had 90 comments and probably 85 specifically said they were praying for her.

I sincerely cannot remember a time when I have felt so blessed. When bad things happen, it’s so easy to ask where God is. I have often written that He’s always here, always with us, if we take the time to seek Him with open hearts.

Last Sunday, He was everywhere, in every face of our health care workers, on every crucifix, with every buzz of my phone. I have difficulty finding the words to express my gratitude to all of those prayer warriors who intervened for us. All I can say is my cup runneth over.

Have an awesome day!

Wendy 🙂