Show me Your glory

I knew I wasn’t ready to be awake yet. I turned over on my right side and squinted my eyes open just far enough to see that the sun wasn’t ready to be up either. I’d been waking up early with a song on my heart the last few mornings. I really wanted to appreciate the morning, and rise up to do my devotions and writing while the rest of the house slept. What a struggle.

As I began to roll back over and resist the call of the new day, I heard noises from the boy’s room. I laid still and listened intently. I heard it again.

Throwing off the covers and making a dash for their bedroom, I turned on the hall light to see which one it was. Caleb, my youngest, was still asleep on the bottom bunk. On the bed above him Deegan was covered in the partially digested, now mostly liquid meal he’d eaten the night before.

Without thinking I went in to Mommy mode, bringing him down, undressing him, cleaning him off, and ripping his bed apart. How could this be? This poor kid just got home from the hospital six days ago, after spending four days there.

Deegan, who fought for his life at three months old (and at least twice since then), was diagnosed with a rare life threatening metabolic condition. A skin biopsy performed by two major hospitals in the country confirmed the diagnosis by the time he was five months old. He would endure many hospitalizations thereafter.In fact, each time Deegan has a vomiting illness he gets admitted to the hospital. His body becomes acidotic, and his energy levels crash, QUICKLY. Lethargy is an understatement. When a child can’t lift his head to vomit, or stay awake through a blood draw, it’s beyond lethargic.

Here we were facing the demon again.

I brought Deegan to my bed where I tucked him in, gave him the bowl designated for puke, and asked him how he was feeling. He just wanted sleep.

I text his dad to let him know that he had thrown up. These messages always mean, “I’ll meet you at the hospital.” There hasn’t been a time that he’s thrown up and not had to go. The longer the delay the worse off his veins are and the harder it is to get the IV going, which is exactly what he needs to help his body that can’t seem to help itself.

Figuring I could at least give him a couple of hours of rest, I laid next to him. I started to fall back asleep when again he began to toss and turn, whimpering for the bowl. Quickly I grabbed it for him and began to rub his back as he wretched a second time.

My poor baby.

Maybe we shouldn’t wait.

After wiping his mouth off, and laying him back down, I looked into the bowl of liquid. Less than a cup, I thought. They are going to want to know at the hospital.

My normal routine at this point would be to start texting family, getting on social media to call forth the prayer warriors, and packing up for the hospital.

Before I began the routine, I felt something else rise up in me. My goal for the New Year was to seek God first. FIRST. In all things. I invite God in, but usually after I try to fill His role first.

I rolled over toward Deegan, laying my hand on his belly, I prayed. Quietly at first, and pretty routinely. But the Holy Spirit arose inside of me, reminding me of the scripture God had given me on Christmas Eve.

“Then He called His twelve disciples together and gave them power and authority over all demons, and to cure diseases. He sent them to preach the kingdom of God and to heal the sick.” (Luke 9:1-2 NKJV)

Owning my identity, I raised my voice with authority, casting out the sickness that gripped God’s child, my son. I bound the enemy and the symptoms of vomiting. I loosed the healing power of God with faith. I believed everything I prayed.

I thanked God.

I removed my hand from his belly and rolled over to write in my journal. A few minutes later Deegan began to stir, in need of the bowl. I gave it to him and without doubting for even a breath, I laid my hand on his back and simply thanked God some more.

I put the bowl away from us, without looking to measure how much was in there this time. I continued to journal. I included the lyrics that I woke singing, “I lift my hands to believe again. You are my refuge, You are my strength. As I pour out my heart these things I remember, You are FAITHFUL GOD FOREVER. Let faith arise, open my eyes, let faith arise!”

Finishing my entry I rested my head, closed my eyes, and fell asleep next to my son. I must have been exhausted because I slept until eleven. The house was still quiet. I rolled over to check on Deegan. He hadn’t thrown up again. I expected him to sleep, but wisdom told me I had to get something in him.

Waking him up, I was delighted by the energy he had, and his desire to eat. He got right out of bed and like any typical day went straight for his electronics. It wasn’t much later that I found myself calling for him to, “settle down.” Boys will be boys.

I saw God’s glory yesterday. I saw a miraculous healing because of the faith and trust I put in my Daddy’s word. I used the power and authority given to me, in His Sons name, without wavering.

My husband reads five Psalms and one Proverb a day to fit them in to one month of reading. In the beginning of our marriage he encouraged me to do the same. I was so inconsistent. With the New Year I committed to one of each per day. Being the third day of the month I read the third Psalm, only to find myself in its text.

“I cried to the Lord with my voice, And He heard me from His holy hill. I lay down and slept; I awoke, for the Lord sustained me. (v 4,5 NKJV)

Know who God is.

Know who you are.