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I arrived home at eight o'clock that summer evening.  I had been out for several hours. As I arrived home, a friend met me at the door.

“Did you meet Daniel at the hospital yet?"  She said.

"No.  Why?  Am I supposed to?"

"Didn't you hear what happened?!"

Those are the words every mother dreads to hear.  I immediately thought of Chalsey, my eight year old.  She's the accident prone one in our family that seems to frequent the emergency room.

"Chalsey was bitten by a copperhead snake!  Daniel rushed her to the hospital an hour ago.  We haven't heard from him since." 

My heart froze.  We had killed copperheads on our property before and knew how dangerous they were.  We had been told that a copperhead snake bite could kill a child.

I later learned that she had been catching bugs to feed the pet iguana.  Bugs always collected around the porch light after dark.  We had a small wooden walkway in front of the side door.  She had decided to lift the walkway to check for bugs underneath.  As soon as she reached under it, she screamed out in pain. 

Daniel, my husband later said, "Her scream was more than a normal hurt cry.  I knew she was really hurt."

She managed to tell them that something bit her.  Immediately they checked under the walkway and found the snake.  They killed it and took it with him to the hospital so the doctors could identify the bite.

I quickly jumped back in my car.  The hospital was 15 minutes away.  That was probably the longest 15 minutes of my life.  I had no idea what to expect, or if she would even be alive.  It had been over an hour already, would she be conscious?  Would she be able to hear me?  Could this be my last chance to speak with her?  Or would she recover? Would it be a long recovery? Would she be in a lot of pain?  How could this have happened?  A million questions raced through my mind.

I prayed from the depths of a mother's heart.  It was just between me and God now.  My hands trembled on the wheel as I cried out to him for mercy and healing for my little girl. Flying down the freeway that night my desperate heart made definite connection with His.

Jesus reminded me of the story in the Bible of the Woman of Shunam.  Her son had died. She laid him in the prophet’s room. Then she went to find the prophet Elijah for help.

 When she approached him, he said, "Is it well with you?  Is it well with the child?"

She replied, "It is well."  Then she went on to tell him that the boy had died, and pleaded with him for a miracle.

How could she say, "It is well”?  Obviously it was not well with the child.  But her faith was strong in God, who had given her that child by a miracle, as a result of the prophet’s prayers, although she had been barren. She knew that God was able, even after he was dead, to restore her son to her.  Because of her faith, the boy was raised from the dead, and fully healed.

The message of this story was clear to me.  Jesus wanted me to trust him.  I had to believe that he had already heard my prayers.  Now I needed to thank him for answering and stand on my faith.

It was very emotional for me.  I went from desperate tears of pleading, to soul cleansing tears of full surrender; then to the passionate tears of praise and thankfulness to my loving God.  He would do what is best.  He had seen and heard my heart's plea.  His love and His wisdom are so far above our limited human understanding.  He would not fail me now.  I said aloud, in an affirmation of faith, It is well with the child.

The highway exit for the hospital was closed for construction, and with all that was going on in my head,  I had forgotten to make an earlier exit.  Now I had to go well out of my way to turn around at the next overpass, adding more time to my already suspenseful trip.  But by now, I had found a strong and steady arm supporting me.  I was staring down my fears, singing songs of faith. Every word I sang carried even more meaning now.

When I arrived at the hospital I was greatly relieved to find Chalsey awake and talking. Her hand was swollen her fingers were purple and green and she was in a lot of pain.The doctor said that if the swelling continued to spread, the destructive venom could go further into the body and more drastic measures would be needed.

For hours, we watched as her hand got bigger and her fingers changed colors.  She was sick and cried in pain.  We called friends and family to join us in prayer vigil for her. We claimed in prayer that the venom would spread no further.  I sang songs with Chalsey and quoted her Bible verses.  To our joyful relief, the swelling stopped right at her wrist and didn't go any further.  

By the next morning she was starting to smile again. During the next few days that she stayed at the hospital, she was delighted to have friends and family come to visit, bringing her gifts and and cards.  Chalsey is such a resilient child. She quickly forgot about the pain and thrived on all the attention. No matter what happens she bounces back with a big smile and loves to boast of her adventures and show off her scars.  I wish we could all have the faith of a child.

As I came back from the hospital I felt somehow stronger, with a quiet inner peace that I could not explain.  In the car that night, I had faced down my fears.  I had proved to Satan, and to myself, that my faith was stronger than circumstances.  It was a good feeling. My faith had been tested, stretched, and strengthened.

In order for faith to grow it must be tested, stretched, and pushed beyond the usual limits.  This growing is not something we do of ourselves. It is something God does in us. When our human strength and faith is not sufficient to meet the need at hand, we draw on Divine Grace and take on a part of Himself.  Then it is His strength in us.

2Pe 1:4 Whereby are given unto us exceeding great and precious promises: that by these ye might be partakers of the divine nature.

Posted by Marie Morrow 

 


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