The Miracle In Africa

      I was in the between stage, you know, that barely awake twilight zone where you’re not sure what that light that’s penetrating the two shielded holes in your face is but you want to kill it. But I didn’t know why I had been so rudely awakened from my much needed, jet-lagged sleep. Then I heard it again. A cross between a grunt and full groan coming from the other side of the bed where… oh that’s right, mom was sleeping there. What’s wrong with mom? Is she ok? As quickly as I had said these things in my head I heard it again, followed by consecutive, short breathes. The kind you might have after falling off the swing as a kid and getting the wind knocked out of you. Or what you might hear coming from someone in great pain. But mom was fine, she was just dreaming or something... right? Of course that’s what. I chose to write off the soft whimpers that surfaced as simply that, a dream, and thought a quick prayer as I began the process of getting back to my precious, interrupted sleep.

That was my first mistake.

     The next morning I woke up to an empty bedroom and the smell of coffee coming from the rest of the house. Oh good! Mom must be fine! But when I made my way to the living room an unwelcoming sight greeted me. Mom was far from fine. I couldn’t believe it! Of all times to be sick it would be the day we finally arrive in Africa… what luck.  But the look on mom’s face scared me. Not that I would have ever let it show. The fact that we were in Africa for the first time in either of our lives and she hadn’t the ability to go to the orphanage or farm as we had planned the day before scared me worse. I left that day, to see the country of Africa without her. Looking back I can’t believe I did, and would change that fact for almost anything.

      I returned home that afternoon with high hopes for my mom’s recovery, only to discover what I’d refused to let my mind think was true. She wasn’t getting better, but worse. Why God? What are you doing? We all prayed that night, believing fully for her complete healing.  Surely He’d do it by morning. I knew He would. After all, He had called my mom to preach, and given us this amazing opportunity to go and minister in this other country. And we were to leave for Karonga in only two days! He was going to heal her; He just wanted us to trust Him on this trip. That was it… I was sure.

     Another night sleep awakened, but this time I didn’t care. I listened to my mom sob in agonizing pain, curled up holding her abdomen from whence it came, and I cringed. I began to wonder why God allowed us to come on this trip only for this to happen. God, whatever it is making her have this pain please transfer it to me. I’m not necessary here to complete Your work, but she is! Please, just let her be ok so she can accomplish your plan. It makes me hurt even now to remember seeing my mom walk around bent over because she was unable to stand, crying in unbearable pain. She got up in a hunch and made her way to the living room where from night to morning, I heard Mrs. Joyce in constant intercession, my mom’s voice interchanging sobs and prayers. I prayed until I fell asleep again, losing my assured estate from before to a desperation I hadn’t had.

     Another day hailed more tears, and more prayers. Mrs. Cheryl, our fearless leader of the trip, insisted my mom go to the local clinic to be diagnosed. If you know my mom at all, you know it would have taken some doing to convince her to see a doctor. In another country. On another continent. Halfway around the world from any modern technology of any kind. But that day was a little different than most, if you hadn’t gathered that.

      We were seen at the surprisingly clean (for Africa) clinic shortly after arriving. Scheduled for an ultra-sound, we found our way to what we guessed was the right room, and saw what we guessed to be the ultra-sound machine. The thing was a dinosaur, the plastic pealing from all sides and half the letters were missing from the keyboard. (Honestly I really wanted to take a picture it was so hideous but I thought better of it due to the state of my mom’s health, figuring she wouldn’t see it as very funny.) It’s hard to even describe things like the ultra-sound doctor nonchalantly mentioning that my mom’s appendix was inflamed. Or when she said my mom needed immediate surgery and suggested we medevac to South Africa, all in hopes that she had enough time left to take a plane there. It was at that moment I understood the gravity of what we were dealing with. And what’s impossible to describe, the feeling that it left inside of me. There are absolutely no words.

 

     That’s when we went in ninja mode. Not really but you could say that. We called home, despite the fact that it was around 2 in morning or something like that there. At that point a message went out to Elders, district leaders, family, church members, evangelists, prayer force teams and whoever chose to read Facebook newsfeed. We took mom for a second opinion at a larger hospital a short drive away, and we didn’t stop praying the whole way there. On our way the presence of the Holy Spirit filled that car in a way He hadn’t yet on that trip; the Holy Spirit, and the peace of God.

    

     From then on things began to shift. The second doctor, a Christian who was from the place my mom was to preach only the next day, looked at my mom and determined she didn’t need immediate surgery, and that if they were to open her up it would be strictly exploratory. He prescribed her antibiotics for the pain and sent us home, expecting to see her again the next morning.

     The pain subsided the rest of that day and night. My mom sat at the table and ate a normal meal, and was able to stand up and walk around normally. I knew God had healed her, but this time it wasn’t just a 16 year olds lack of a realization of reality. I had a peace I hadn’t had for three days. For the first time I wasn’t worried, I knew God had my mom in His huge hands and had taken control of her body and the situation.

The next morning I was awakened… again. The hair dryer was blowing full throttle at 5AM. FIVE STINKING IN THE MORNING. But I couldn’t have been more thrilled to be awake. More thrilled to see my mom with he most beautiful smile on her 100% healed face.  Needless to say our return trip to that hospital was a little different. The doctor didn’t even recognize my mom when she came in.

     That trip was a turning point in my faith. I hadn’t experienced such dose of incredible fear, or incredible faith and peace in my life. I won’t ever forget it.

Ever.