The power of prayer is a remarkable thing. The bible says faith can move a mountain, and doctors are astonished when terminal patients seem to miraculously get well again through the power of prayer. The following is a personal story of how prayer can save lives.
As a young girl growing up with an overprotective grandmother, life sometimes was not a healthy experience. My "ma" was everything to me, and I mean that literally. I had my aunts and uncles but none could compare to my ma.
My dad lived with us until I was 5 years old and then he married a lady who did not like our family. Thus, the visits from my father became few and far between. In the early years, he would come back to see his princess, me, and then by the time I was 9, he no longer really knew his princess anymore.
My own mother was almost a stranger to me; I would see her periodically but was never comfortable with this woman at all. My ma (my grandmother) was my world. Therefore, because I was a little girl who was not wanted by her parents, my ma became overprotective, shielding me from hurt and the uncaring world I lived in.
I lived alone with my ma. My uncles and aunts would visit, but they were all adults. I was never exposed to children. My ma never left the house and she never let me go and play in the yard with the children. She was too afraid that I would get lost, get hurt, or that some stranger would come and snatch me away. I was confined to the back porch on the third floor where we lived- isolated from the world.
I grew up in a world of adults and, as you know, adults are sometimes too busy for children.
It is funny that as a little girl I did not really care that much for dolls. They were inanimate objects, and though I had a great imagination, I wanted living things around me. I loved pets and we always had dogs. In the early years, my dogs became my childhood friends.
The first day of school, at the age of six, was a traumatic experience for me. I was sent to school alone, meaning without my ma, as she never left the house. However, I did have other children go with me who were starting school the same day. Renate, a friend of the family, was one such person. You can say that Renate was my very first friend.
However, even though I put on the bravado since Renate was with me, we were not put in the same class and I was alone again. Yes, I cried, and yes, my teacher, Mrs. Appelaize scolded me for it. It only added to my shame as my ma had told me that big girls don’t cry.
That school year was hard for me. But I had Renate. I would eagerly await recess so that I could be with her. However, by second grade, Renate had transferred to a new school and I was alone. I had no friends. In fact, I did not even know how to play with children. I would make up excuses at recess time to stay in the classroom so that I did not have to go out with the children.
I did get to see Renate outside of school. However, this never compensated for
the fact that at school I was very much alone. It was still hard during the school day. I was now in grade 3 and the children did not like me. They laughed at me because I was overweight and the rejection was just too much to bear.
It was also during that year that a new girl came to school. Her name was Brenda, and she came from another province altogether. She came from the province of Nova Scotia, while we lived in the province of Quebec, Canada.
Since we were both alone, we became friends. The Lord had answered my prayer, but he had done one better than that. Brenda came from a Christian family and she introduced me to the Lord. Since we were friends in school she started taking me to Sunday school with her. We attended "Welcome Hall Mission" and it was there, at the age of 9, that I gave myself to the Lord. I was born again.
Try as I might, I couldn’t get Renate to like Brenda. Since Renate would not participate in anything that Brenda and I did together. I had to divide my time between them.
Then a tragedy happened. The lady next door to us became extremely ill. Mum, as everyone called her, was a feisty Scottish lady of nearly 80 years old.
Everyone in the neighbourhood loved her. We listened to her stories of the old country and the impish things she did when she was a young girl. Everyone called her Mum. She was everyone’s mum from ages 1 to 90.
One day Mum became very ill. No longer was the feisty lady dancing the jig and telling her stories. She was in bed, near death’s doorstep. My ma couldn’t bear to see her like that and she wouldn’t give up on her.
My ma called several doctors to come and see her. In those days, the doctors still made house calls. The first two doctors told my ma that there was nothing to be done. The second doctor even said to think of Mum as an old car whose motor had died. My ma would not accept this kind of thinking as a reasonable answer. She was determined to find a doctor who would at least try to help and I was determined to pray and ask God to give us at least a little more time with her. I loved Mum almost as much as I loved Ma, and I prayed day and night.
The third doctor was the one who helped Mum. He examined her and found that she was carrying 100 pounds of water in her body. He rushed her to the hospital and pumped out her system. Mum was going to live!
One night when I was home and Renate was visiting, I decided to witness to Renate. At first she was reluctant. She asked me, "How do you know there is a God? You have no proof."
To which I replied with all the innocence of youth, "I know because I talk to Him."
Renate then said, "Yes but He never answers, does He?"
"Oh but your wrong," I said. "He saved Mum and He will save you." I recounted the story of Mum to Renate. That night Renate accepted Jesus as her Lord and Saviour.
Brenda, Renate, and I eventually became the best of friends. And I finally had the friends that I was looking for all my life.
Incidentally, Mum lived another eight years
