El
Shaddai, all night last night, I felt Your request stir my heart. As a result, first
thing this morning, I researched the location of the burn center where the man
was being treated. Then I shared my
intention to visit the man in the hospital with my 7-year-old son. He chose to
accompany me.
We arrived at the hospital early mid-afternoon. As we
walked through the entrance doors, I prayed, “Lord, please help me help this
man going through unimaginable pain.” Soon, we arrived at the Intensive Care
Unit. One quick press of the call button and a sweet nurse welcomed us both
inside. I explained that I was a missionary sent by God to comfort a member of
my church. The woman simply replied, “You are one of the few visitors this man
has had. You, and your Pastor. That’s it.” Then, she led me and Travis over to
the nurses’ station and helped me to prepare to enter the man’s recovery room.
I was fitted with a plastic blue stretchy hat, matching gown and sterile gloves.
Looking over at Travis, I said, “Son, wait here and read your bible. I’ll be
right back.”
Next,
I slowly walked over to the man’s bedside and softly called his name. “____, it’s
Donna. Can you hear me?” Our eyes met! My heart began to beat faster. I
continued, “Travis is here too! We came to tell you that God is with you and that
we love you.” I hadn’t even taken a breath before I began to say, “I love you repeatedly! I love you, ____!
I love you, _____!” I felt amazed as the words of love continued to pour out of me unconsciously. Our eyes never lost connection. I knew he
could hear me.
Afterward, I opened my Bible.
I had determined my heart to read whatever Scripture the pages opened to. Isaiah chapter 22. This wasn’t the comforting message I had hoped
to deliver! I slowly read each verse out
loud trying to imagine myself in the dying man’s position. https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Isaiah+22&version=NKJV.
Suddenly, I came upon
the words, “You shall die,” in verse 18. Please Lord; don’t make me say these
words. “Read!” I felt You say. “You shall die,” I said faintly and felt my
strength diminish in me. My eyes welled with tears. Feeling sick to my stomach,
I then left his private room, thanked the two nurses, and placed my cap and
gown in the trash can. Just then, the nurse softly grabbed my hand. She said,
“Pray for me too!” I promised her that I would before Travis and I walked slowly
to the elevator.
Down
the long hallway, my son excitedly announced, “I made a paper airplane and ate
orange Jell-O, Mom.” I wanted to join him in his enthusiasm, but I still felt in
shock from all that had transpired. So, I remained quiet.
Almost immediately, we began our hour long drive home. We
hadn’t driven far before Travis became ill. No warning signs, just the sudden
feeling of wet hair on the side of my head. Our car’s roof was covered in orange Jell-O and so was I.”
Travis began to cry. “I am so sorry Mommy.”
He said in between tears. “That was an attack from Satan, Son.” Please don’t
worry about it, I said as I pulled into the nearest Carl’s Jr. parking lot.
I parked our car and then asked my son to pray with me.
“I hate that guy!” My son emphatically exclaimed. “Who?” I asked. “Satan,” Travis replied. “Me too, Son. But, by
his response, I think in a way, Satan is confirming that we’ve just done God’s
will.”
Right then and there, we prayed Satan and his helpers
away. Unexpectedly, Travis felt hungry. He was
sure he felt better. So, I splurged and bought him a large hamburger and
milk. Wouldn’t You know it? The rest of the day, Travis felt fine!
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