My IC/PBS symptoms have been dormant for the most part since December 27th. Yes, I know the date because it’s that significant. I’ve had a few days where the pain has been as high as a 5, but it’s only lasted a day or 2 at the most. Yesterday afternoon, my symptoms came roaring back and I had a full blown level 10 flare. The pain was so intense and so sudden, I ended up in tears in my bed. I cried because of the discomfort, but I also cried because I had to speak in youth service in a few short hours and I wasn’t sure how I was going to accomplish that task since I could not stand, let alone walk, let alone get my self together to drive to church. I also had to take Parker to a baseball game beforehand and I didn’t think that was feasible for me either. I was incredibly frustrated because I despise the feeling of failure, and to me, not getting Parker to his game was failure as a mother, and not speaking in youth service was failing as a pastor’s wife.
Anyways, the point of this story is to record how Kent came to my rescue. I was in bed trying to get myself through the pain, and Kent heard me whimpering. He came to my side and started to rub my back with those still-chubby little hands of his. In a quiet voice he said, “Mommy. Would you like me to pray for you?” I could barely squeak out a “yes”, and Kent responded with the most sincere prayer I have heard him pray. It was simple, beautiful, and filled with expectation.
See, the significance is this: often times during devotions before bed with the boys, I get discouraged because Kent isn’t very verbal when it’s his turn to pray. He always says, “I can’t think of anything I need to pray about.” or “I don’t know what to say”, to which I just encourage him to at least thank God for one thing, and his typical response is “Thank you for dying on the cross.” Most of the time, that is the extent of his prayer. I will admit that on more than one occasion I have been frustrated that Kent’s prayers aren’t longer and more eloquent and deep. I figured that we have been doing devotions together since he was born and that he’s heard how Erik and I and even Parker pray, so he should know how to put a few sentences together and talk to God longer than a second or 2. And yesterday I was thoroughly convicted.
I was so touched at the authenticity of his prayer for me. Kent’s prayers may not be filled with paragraphs of prose, but he knew where to go when a need presented itself. He knew to go to Jesus. Isn’t that what pleases God? Not the quantity of the prayer, but the quality? Long sentences don’t impress God. Child-like faith pleases him.
Kent then came over and gave me his bunny to snuggle (which is a whole other ordeal since Gigi Bunny is his most treasured possession) and then he came and laid beside me rubbing my back the whole time. Kent got me water (which he spilled in my bed, but I laughed because that is just soooo Kent), and crackers. He did not leave my side until the spasm had passed. I was finally able to get up, get dressed, get Parker to his game on time and get to church to prepare for youth service.
As the story goes, I ended up getting another spasm right before youth service started and I had to lay down on a couch in the youth room until it passed. Kent again came over, put his hands on me, and prayed over me. A good friend also came in a prayed over me. Wouldn’t you know the symptoms subsided, and I was able to preach the message that God put on my heart.
Although I never look forward to my disorder rearing it’s ugly and painful head, it’s always beautiful to see God’s hands moving in the situation.