Feel like I’ve been gettting pretty familiar with the hospital lately.
It was quite scary, seeing someone motionless, and in the ambulance speeding away every second ticking not knowing if each second would take a little bit of life away.
I heard her screaming, I couldn’t tell if it was from fear or pain, or maybe both, but as I sat in the front I felt like I never prayed so desperately to God before in my life.
“Please keep her safe, please keep her safe, please keep her safe, God please, please”
I couldn’t think of anything else.
Life is so fragile. One day you could be here and the next day gone.
As I looked back through the plastic shield, watching the paramedics tend to her, I couldn’t help but think , “that could have been me.”
“What if something really bad happens?”
I’ve lived life assuming that no matter what happens, or how bad something may seem, somehow things will turn out alright.
And that’s what happened. My grandma is now back to her old lively self, my parents aren’t divorced, vic didn’t take her own life, I’ve thought of all the worse case scenarios without necessarily accepting that they may actually, really happen. Somehow, it’ll be alright.
This time round was a close shave too. A close shave of destruction to the norm.
When will my time come for my faith to be tested?
Somehow, I just couldn’t pray for healing, I just couldn’t pray for the best possible outcome, I couldn’t pray for a miracle.
I just wanted to be prepared for the worst.
But is that wrong? Was I not having enough faith?
I’ve always just told myself that God could allow either to happen, the best and the worst, and that was not up to me to pray for. What if I prayed for a total miracle of healing (which pastor and her dad did), but it did not come? I felt like the only thing I could pray for was faith despite the worst. Because that’s the only thing I know God will certainly grant if asked for.
I just couldn’t bring myself to pray for a miracle.
But that felt wrong too. Somehow.
Yet, in my most desperate point of the night, alone in the ambulance, lost and fearful, I could do nothing but beg for a miracle.
It has been quite a while since I felt so desperate for God to do something, to intervene, to stop a fate that may have been planned already.
And I really want to know just how faithful I am. But this wish would require me to go through something horrible, and dark. I’m not sure if I’m quite ready for that.
I feel a little scared, because I feel like I’ve been having so many close shaves. Like destruction taunting me and teasing me, “I’m coming for you next.”
In the room, her dad kept reciting psalm 91, and I don’t know why I just couldn’t control the tears coming out of my eyes.
I hadn’t really teared up much the entire night, but at that point, hearing him recite it over and over again, although he was calm and collected in the way he spoke, I could feel the desperation in holding onto the word truly like a sword of the spirit, to fight off his fears, and his doubts.
I think that was what moved me.
I was a bit skeptical of his over positivity like the cynic in me, I thought it was simply a phase of complete denial, he kept saying things will be alright everything will be okay, he kept uttering tongues with the belief that they had healing power, he proclaimed that God will heal her as she had done nothing wrong.
But I just couldn’t help thinking, what if things didn’t go well? Because I know they can.
But at that moment, I really felt the power of the word of God. Despite the cynic in me, somehow it was an anchor that stopped me from thinking too negatively. Although her physical body may be suffering, I know that God is a protector of souls first of all.
And to me that was enough.