As I stated in my last blog, these pages come from a devotional book that I was writing at the time my dad had a life changing stroke. This is around page 21 of :And This Ain’t Hollywood Either”. God is good, even and always in the storm.
“…I saw a great many bones on the floor of the valley, bones that were very dry. He (the Spirit of the Lord) asked me, ‘Son of man, can these bones live?’ I said, ‘O Sovereign Lord, you alone know.’ Then he said to me, ’Prophesy to these bones and say to them, ‘Dry bones, hear the word of the Lord! This is what the Sovereign Lord says to these bones: I will make breath enter you, and you will come to life.’ So I prophesied as I was commanded. And as I was prophesying, there was a noise, a rattling sound, and the bones came together, bone to bone. Then he said to me,’ Prophesy to the breath…’ So as I prophesied as he commanded me, and breath entered them; they came to life and stood up on their feet—a vast army.”
Ezekiel 37:2-5, 7, 9-10
As I left the hospital on December 23 after our last night’s visit, I prayed harder than I’d ever prayed before. Daddy had been through a day of risky procedures. I prayed for supernatural healing. Being a person that has been healed, there was not a cell in my body that did not believe that God could heal and sometimes chooses to do just that. I pleaded with God for Him to do things only He could do. I bargained with Him, asking Him to restore my daddy, but give me back the arthritis that He has taken away from me. I told him that all I wanted for Christmas was my dad. That night I laid it all out before God, believing that He could do mighty things. When we went for our first visit of the next morning on Christmas Eve, we learned that the ventilator had been turned off. Prior to this, dad had been unsuccessful in becoming completely independent of the ventilator. I believed that God was already working our Christmas miracle. I said to dad, “No more tears, dad; now we are going to laugh. Today I want to see a smile. God is going to turn the weeping into laughing.” Stroke patients are typically very emotional, and daddy had cried almost nonstop since his stroke. We had definitely not seen any smiles. At the next visit four hours later, a church friend stepped on to say hello. And when he did, daddy smiled. We were ecstatic. And I said, “See, I knew we would get a smile today!” At the next visit, he laughed, the laugh that restored our hope. I got my Christmas miracle, even if that laugh was all I got. But as I write this on Christmas Day, I am holding on to a hope, a hope that God is working a mighty miracle. And Christmas is all about hope.