“Mommy, look,” came the loud excited statement of my three year old daughter in the waiting room.

            “What is it Sweetie,” I asked trying not to loose my patience with her.

            “I want her,” she smiled pointing to a picture in a magazine.

            It was a beautiful little porcelain doll.  It looked like a real baby.

            “She’s very pretty honey.  Mommy will look at it after we see the doctor, OK?”

            “No, Mommy, no more doctor!” she protested loudly.

            This was our fourth visit to the doctor in as many weeks.  Jillian had a severe ear infection and in the last month she has been on three different antibiotics.  Nothing seemed to work and she was getting worse.  Her father had passed away about six months, and being on my own I didn’t have the best insurance.  We were forced to go to the clinic for her care and it was always crowded, loud, and we always had to wait.  My head was beginning to pound.

            Every time the door leading back to the offices opened, everyone became quiet hoping their name would be called.

            “Jillian,” the nurse said as she opened the door.

            “Finally,” I thought.  I gathered our things, and we headed back the hall.

            After the doctor looked into Jillian’s tiny ears, she looked disappointed.

            “Oh no,” I said, “it’s not any better?”

            “No, I’m afraid not,” she stated with a sigh, “we only have one other medication to try.  If that doesn’t work we will have to look at putting tubes in her ears to drain them.”

            Later, as I sat with my mother, I must have looked a wreck.

            “You’ve got to be strong Brenda Sue,” she said, trying to smile.

            “Mom, this may be the straw that breaks the camels back,” I said, “I can not afford an operation, I can’t take more time off work, and I can’t watch her go through anymore.  She already cries every night for her Daddy, how much more is a three year old suppose to deal with?”

            Tears formed in my eyes and spilled over on my face.  Everything seemed to be closing in on me from every direction, and my heart was so heavy I could hardly breathe.

            “Don’t let Satan steal your joy, Honey,” Mom said quietly.

            “JOY,” I screamed, “he’ll have to find it before he can steal it!”

            “Brenda , you calm down NOW!”

            My mother had never been an aggressive person, but I had pushed the envelope this time.

            “You will put your trust in the Lord, and it will work out.  He will not put more on you than you can handle, and who knows better how strong you are than the one who created you!”  she said sternly.

            I had surrendered my heart to Jesus just a few months before, and was still getting the hang of turning everything over to him.  This could have easily overwhelmed me, but God had a plan, and this was part of it.  I just didn’t know it yet.

            “Alright, Mom, I will,” I said drying my face.

            Moments later Jillian and her cousin bounced through the back door into the kitchen.

            “Hi Mommy,” she smiled up at me.

            She had the face of an angel.

            “Hi Honey,” I smiled back at her, “are you feeling better?”

            “Yep,” she said, “we’re going to find crawl dads!”

            “Be careful,” I said as her pony tail slipped through the screen door.

            In the days that followed, I gave Jillian her medicine faithfully.  I took her temperature and comforted her.  I spoke loudly so she could hear me clearly and prayed for a miracle. 

             Our church was having revival, and we had attended every night.  I needed the fellowship more than ever.

Finally, the medicine was gone and the deciding appointment was the next day.  As we got ready for church my mind was on everything but.

We got to the church a few minutes late and tried to slip in quietly and take a seat in one of the back pews.  My attempt to “sneak” in had failed miserably.  Patty (a loving a Godly woman that I adored) got up, excused herself out of her pew, and almost ran to the back of the church.  She grabbed me and hugged me so tight I could hardly breathe.  Tears started streaming down my face.  The love I felt was amazing, as if this one woman had the love of the entire congregation in her arms.  She gave me the courage to ask them to join me in asking God for the miracle I so desperately needed.

After the service, I stood up and as loudly as I could I said:

“Could I ask for prayer for my daughter?  She has an ear infection.”

“Come back everyone, we’re not done yet,” the Pastor announced.

Everyone came back up to the alter and gathered around Jillian and I.  Those closest laid hands on us, the ones in the back laid hands on each other forming a chain to us.  The prayer went on for about five minutes, but Jillian was a good as gold and didn’t move, squirm or shout the whole time.  When we were finished, I knew I had thanked everyone and we left.

The next day, we got ready for “the appointment.”

“What ever happens, Lord, give me strength,” I prayed over and over.

The clinic was crowded as usual.    

Finally we were called back.  The doctor looked in one ear, then the next, then again.  She seemed puzzled.

“What’s wrong,” I asked, afraid of the answer.

“Nothing,” she said, “she is fine.”

“What,” I stammered, “the infection is gone?”

“Yes, I can’t see anything.”

“Do you think the last medicine worked?” I asked, but I knew the answer. 

“No, you don’t understand, she should still have remnants of the fluid, or scar tissue, or something.  There’s nothing here.”  She was stumped.

“Thank you, Jesus,” I practically shouted.

We gathered our things and left the clinic, hoping we wouldn’t be back for quite some time!

I praised the Lord all the way home.  I knew he had healed Jillians ear, but he had also healed my heart.  I finally got it.  God loved us.  He loved every bit of Jillian, even her tiny ears. He loved every bit of me too, and touched my heart to show me he was there and he cared about every part of my life.

That was ten years ago, but sometimes it is as if it were yesterday.  I carry it in my heart and remember it any time I feel weak or unsure. 

God not only allowed me a u-turn, he insisted.