About 1997, my Sunday School class decided our 132 day drought had lasted long enough and we put our chairs against the west wall of our Sunday School room and got on our knees. We prayed to God, our Father, that He would forgive all our sins, cover us over with the blood of Jesus, and hear our prayer.

There were several request that we had. First was the drought. Then, there was a little girl named Emily Laird that had Crone’s disease. Next, there was a broken hearted Mother and wife named Brittain whose husband and 3 sons had been drowned in Lake Meredith and the youngest son’s body had been there for about 4 months. I had heard that they were telling the Mother that his body probably would not be found. Also in Peru, hostages were being held; for which the outlook was grim.

We prayed for the rain on Sunday. Thursday we got 6 inches of rain and Saturday we got 2 inches more, which was unheard of in our part of the country! Within ten days the body of Mrs. Brittain’s youngest son was found! Within 2 weeks the hostages in Peru were rescued and only one man died and that with a heart attack – not a bullet.

About 6 months later, I saw the grandmother of Emily Laird and was going to tell her of a new treatment I had heard of on TV for Crone’s disease. She stopped me. “Oh, she’s not taking her medicine any more … she wants chili! She eats anything she wants!”

Then this year, while my husband was in the hospital to have a stint placed in a blockage in his heart, I learned that a young mother from our town was also in the hospital. She was in ICU in a coma, having developed toxemia, being air lifted to the hospital where they took the 2 lb. baby by c-section.

I had been praying for her, but didn’t know her. There, in the hall I met her mother and realized we had exchanged a few words in a store at home. She invited me into her daughter’s room.

The eyes were at half mast. The breathing was in-volunteer. My Heart told me to speak only positive things to this mother – aloud. I said, “Lupe, you will be waking up soon, and you will see your little girl and care for her. God will wake you up and I am going to write your name in my hand and pray for you every time I see it. You know, God has our names written in His hand …”

Her husband and mother, both, seemed to appreciate the words. They had been standing by for 2 weeks. I saw them in the hospital halls for the next 3 days and each time asked about her, affirming that God was touching her.

The last day we were there, I went again to her room. She had her eyes open wide and was looking from wall to wall, but not really “seeing”. Everyone was smiling and we were nodding our heads that God was waking her up. About 5 p.m. I went in again. She had her glasses on and she looked right at me. I was so thrilled, my hands shot up in the air as I said, “Praise the Lord!” She met my hand with a high five that was as solid as if we had been on the basketball court!

How good the Lord is!!! How wonderful his ways! Praise the name of the Lord, our Healer!

In His Hands

In God’s great hands, my name is written down;
Not lightly, but with bold deliberate strokes:
Engraved forever there for me to see One day,
when I come home … Still following the way.

I cannot fathom why the great “I Am”
Should plan for me to know His pen has traced
The letters of my name (which He knew first) …
Except the joy, the peace, the confidence

He has (in wondrous ways) to me dispensed.
For when the tragedies of life contain my name,
I say, “He knows and I am not alone.
I trust because I know He can’t forget.
This trial for me is good. He loves me yet.”

And so, dear friend, my pen is in my hand.
Your name I place upon my palm today.
I promise, as I go about my tasks,
I’ll pray for you each time the Spirit asks.

Sometimes, in gentle gesture, I do close
My fingers there (around your precious name)
And hold you close, knowing that God
Is doing just the same.

© Testimony and Poem by Joan Clifton Costner jody@ptsi.net