On my birthday, I received a call, informing me of the worst:

“Your mom stopped breathing. She’s not responding.”

It took a few moments, but my resolve broke down into tears.
My mother was diagnosed with multiple sclerosis many years ago,
and the disease had progressed to her being bedridden and experiencing threatening complications.
Like a dog with a bone, I’ve clung to Biblical promises for healing for a decade.
In her presence, in greeting cards, and on the phone, I’ve spoken them over her, only to
see nothing happen.
After that call, I felt trapped between crippling fear and total faith.
Thanks to my husband and a great friend of ours springing into action,
I was able to stop being Mommy and focus on my own Mom for several hours.
Many thoughts ping-pogged in my head:

I know she’s unconscious, but can she hear what’s happening somehow?
I love her, God. You told me she would receive healing. What’s going on?!
On my birthday? She’s leaving on my birthday?
Let her live. Let her thrive. Let her have life again.

By the time I went to see her, everything quieted down.
She needed to be extubated, but was now conscious and breathing above the ventilator.
One thought from my prayer time remained: “Keep your position as one of agreement with Me.
Go there as an advocate for her soul, go there as her daughter. Don’t be swayed by what you see.”

And so, I went back to my home state to see her. Being a part of the Outreach team at my church,
I wanted to pray, command, speak life – everything.
First and foremost, I showed her love.
Seeing her face light up when I entered her room in the ICU meant everything to me.
I sang to her, held her hand as she slept, and prayer became my first language.

When the breathing tube was removed the next day, I waited outside her room as instructed
doing the “unthinkable”: smiling.
I was warned all morning by doctors and specialists that she may not live, that this “could be the end.”
They were right: it was the end – of her hospital stay.
She continued to breathe as was not expected. 

It’s been a long journey since then: nurse visits, slow gains, big changes.
I began to ask God, “If you want us to believe that healing is for today – right now, in this time – why
is it so hard to see with people? Why is it taking so long?

Last night, I got my reminder to hold on. My oldest daughter, Zae,
complained about a headache. She stumbled around before and after bath time,
hurting and confused.
When I went to tuck her in, I prayed over her, determined to see something work after a rough day.
Still in “commander” mode, I told Zae, “I want you to believe that He’s healed you.
Don’t wait for it; start acting like it’s here.
He’s already done it, you just have to believe it.”
She weakly agreed.
Moments later – mere moments – she sat up in bed, which made her head throb a half hour earlier.
The pain was gone.

She shook her head as hard as she could. Then, she beamed with confirmation.
“It’s gone, Mama! The headache is gone! I don’t hurt anymore!”

I thanked God – sadly, almost astonished – that it left so quickly.
Then, she said something I won’t soon forget: “God can do anything. He’s a Good King! He loves us.”

I’m back in my “war room” with a child’s heart and a deep hunger to see God move mightily on my mother’s behalf.
Yes, sweetheart, he really is a Good King. The Best, in fact.
Thank you for the reminder.

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