Trauma Prayers + Kisses from the Savior

by rhymz4jesus at photobucket

  Her face carried the wear of the previous four days; her lips speaking the fullness of her heart overflowing at having been on the receiving end of miracles this week.  The couple did what any shell-shocked family would do...they kept the rhythm of the life before, walking the pattern in an attempt to return the family to "normal", they joined with the body of believers on the first day of the week, as was their custom.   She said that his words were, "We have to; how can we not?" She consented, emotionally stunned and astounded and worn all at once, thankful for his determined leading.  She held in her arms the gift they had been given again...following the rhythm, the pattern...following the familiar path to the church nursery.  They clung to each other - her arms encircling comfort and protection which she had provided for close to two years; her gift sunk deep into her chest, as if the wee one would have crawled through her heart and down into the safety of the womb once again if it were only possible. 

The little gift smiled at the nursery workers who had prayed for her and with her during the first hours after breath had been forced out of lungs so severely that Careflight was called...her mother sharing that they had returned from the journey of facing off with death just Saturday evening - and now it was Sunday morning and the numb of being in the center of death and the blessing of being in the center of the miracle was all mixed together as she shared the story.  And there in the fellowship of women, she shared concern still deep, that the horse stepping on the gift wasn't the only trauma...needles and procedures and the strangeness of the hospital was now lodged in a toddler's heart and mind and the little one was clinging tight to maternal stability...

And I was the one standing closest, petting a tender little head to communicate comfort and understanding - the Spirit strong in saying we don't need to wait for altar call to pray - so warrior mother and one who has been given the privilege of praying over trauma many times in the past laid our hands on the small bruised body, wounded heart, sensitive spirit and went to the throne on the gift's behalf, and as we prayed, that head lifted up, fear being replaced with confidence; trauma memory uprooted by the joy and peace from the Holy Spirit filling up the being and we watched the truth of beauty being given in the place of ashes become real for a toddler as that little gift opened up to life abundant again, climbing from the lap of safety and engaging in what had been her normal Sunday morning activity for almost two years, as if nothing unusual had happened over the past week and it all happened in the fellowship of women at the gathering of believers on the first day of the week...

And we all felt the kisses of the Lord as our hearts and hands praised His lovingkindness...

Joining with Emily and other imperfects at Imperfect Prose