I'm not talking about the weather. I think the rain we have had over the past few days is marvelous—And I'm now old enough to use that adjective! I am referring to the fact that in the midst of me dealing with a fib, my youngest daughter called, and she has to have another heart surgery. It's scheduled for March 28!
I thought back to all I have learned about the Lord through her health issues, and this story came to mind. I wrote it for Healing the Hurts That Are Holding You Back about an experience that forever changed how I view God. In the book, I talk about Elijah from 1 Kings 18-19. I'll reference the reluctant prophet as I share my story. I pray that it builds your faith as much as it did mine. (Besides, with her facing another surgery, God knew I needed the reminder.)
"Have you ever been there, like Elijah—when the whirlwind, the earthquake, and the fires have consumed you, and life is requiring more out of your truster than you can muster? Now you find yourself underneath a broom tree, discouraged, depressed, and quaking in your boots. I have. It was when Ashley Rose was five years old and facing her third heart surgery. The other two surgeries stretched us all, and neither my precious daughter nor I were ready for another one.
Ashley had just started kindergarten, and as her heart grew weaker and weaker, it became harder and harder for me to trust the Lord. On a dismal night in winter, the surgeon’s office called from UCLA. They had a bed and a surgery date for Ashley. After lengthy instructions about her extended stay at the hospital, the surgeon soberly added, “Given the difficulty of a surgery of this magnitude and her fragile state, I need you to prepare yourself not to take her home.”
It took a moment for me to catch my breath as his words sunk in. All I could say was, “Doctor, I deal with a lot of people in many stressful situations, but I need to tell you, I don’t know how to do that.”
I found myself every day dragging myself out from underneath the broom tree, putting one foot in front of the other. The Lord was all I had so I simply had to trust Him. But I had to tell Him how I was feeling. I couldn’t keep it bottled up inside of me; I felt like a ticking time bomb.
My schedule was always packed either doing something for work, with the church, or my children. I had no idea when I could find time to process all that was swimming around in my head. So one day in early spring, at the church’s first picnic of the season, I asked another mom to watch my two older kids, left Ashley with her dad, and took a long walk. I found myself in a cove, where I plopped down on the beach, and finally stopped stuffing all of my feelings. “You are God!” I shouted in the empty cove. “You could bat an eyelash and heal this child.” It felt good to get it out, but my words seemed to only echo in the pine trees that afternoon.
The fated day came when we had to drive our precious little girl to the hospital at UCLA. We barely settled in when the nurses whisked her away, leaving me with a sinking helpless feeling. Nine long hours I waited under that broom tree fearing that the hammer was going to fall. So, I tightened my grip as I sat recollecting every scripture, sermon, or song that had ever brought me hope. At ten o clock in the evening, my husband and I were finally allowed into cardiac recovery.
Weighing only thirty pounds, Ashley looked so tiny and weak lying there with a machine breathing for her. There was an IV, electrode pad, or a drainage tube on every square inch of her frail little frame—except for one spot on her head where a precious valley girl nurse from LA was rubbing Ashley’s hair into a part and speaking comfort to her as she fitfully slept.
“Wow,” the nurse informed us, “this is amazing. Your daughter’s like getting better by the minute. This is like a miracle and stuff!”
“Honey, this is a miracle!” I informed her.
Every few minutes someone came over to remove another tube or wire. As she continued to improve, the nurse sent us out briefly so they could remove her ventilator. I went back to her bedside as soon as they would let me. By now the whir, the whiz, and the white noise of all the machines had died down. Ashley was sleeping peacefully. Her awesome nurse, who hadn’t left her side, said she was going to sit down at the nurse’s station across the room and have a Pepsi. I told her to drink a case of Pepsi; she had earned it.
As I stood at the foot of my daughter’s bed watching her chest rise and fall and thanking God for her every breath, I noticed the sun coming up. Just over my shoulder, the gentle morning light was bleeding through the blinds, and in the quiet of that moment, I could hear the gentle whisper.
“The other shoe didn’t fall, did it, Linda? It’s always fallen. At least that’s how you feel, isn’t it? But I’m here to teach you that I’m going to take care of you. Daddy’s got you now. It’s going to be all right.”
Ashley continued to recover after her surgery, but we were not guaranteed that she wouldn’t have to go through this again many more times in her life. However, I was guaranteed that God would get me through no matter what life dealt.”
Knowing God loves each of us personally is a perfect message for the Easter season, don’t you think? And I am still believing that God has got this. If your faith is wavering, know that I am praying for you as you read this. Let my prayers strengthen you just as yours strengthen me.