Right now... in this moment... I'm having one of those times of reflection. As I listen to probably one of the most intimate worship songs ever (Beautiful-Kari Jobe) I'm overwhelmed with how good God is. I'm extremely blessed to have two of my very own miracles. Ian, my four-year-old, had a very rough start. In what was probably the most traumatic things I've ever experienced, I'm proud to say my God protected him and healed him. Ian was born June 7, 2005 weighing in at 8 lbs 15 oz. When Ian was 2 days old he began to vomit entire feedings up which carried on the entire second day. I felt in my spirit that something was wrong. I mentioned this to the nurse and she said it was normal for them to spit up. She assured me he was fine, but as we went through onesie after onesie I felt that he needed further attention than what he was receiving. The nurse eventually noticed that he was continually spitting up after EVERY feeding. She agreed it would be a good idea to have him looked at by a doctor. She wheeled him away to the Newborn Nursery and said we would hear from the doctor in the next few hours. After the nurse left, I broke down, called my mother in sobs and asked for prayer. We heard from the doctor within a few hours who informed us Ian would be staying in the NICU until he could hold down his feedings. We were able to visit Ian every few hours the following day. Chris and I were completely confused, nervous, not at peace. The following day Chris and I came back to visit Ian and found Ian screaming in pain with an extremely swollen stomach. The nurses basically said they had no idea what was happening with him and felt he should be transferred to UMC to a pediatric specialist. Off we went.... again, in tears, we packed our things in panic while our 3 day old little boy was carried by ambulance to UMC. We arrived soon after and awaited the pediatric surgeons "prognosis". After 30-45 minutes the surgeon met with Chris and I and informed us that they felt Ian had Hirsch Sprungs Disease. The nerves at the end of Ian's colon were dead. Ian was unable to clear out his stool and it was creating a blockage, thus the swollen stomach. We were advised that he would need surgery in which they would remove the deadened part of his colon and what we could expect for the future. We agreed to the surgery. I went back to visit Ian and found him with a tube up his nose which was slowly sucking the stool out, and IV in his sweet little foot. I was devastated. In that moment of absolute hopelessness, I was reminded of a book my grandmother gave me titled "Scripture Confessions for Moms". I decided that I was going to fight for Ian. I felt it hit me, I was angry, I was confused, but I knew that MY God was bigger. Chris and I spent time with Ian, we prayed over him, stroked his little head, held his hand, gushed over how beautiful he was despite the disgusting wires. Chris and I went home and passed out. We visited Ian several times a day over the next week. Each and every time I was with Ian I read aloud the healing confession from that book. I spoke aloud the scriptures that followed. I talked to Ian as if he understood me "You're healed, you know that?" One night before Ian's surgery we sat with one of the nurses. She sat us and some family down and began to explain what we could expect following his surgery. That there was a good chance that he would have to have a colostomy bag that would hold his stool, we would have to empty it and hook it back up. She mentioned how hard it would probably be hard to potty train him, etc. Though she meant well, and wanted us to be informed, I was furious. Chris and I sat to the side as she spoke and showed the printed information to our family. Immediately following, we left with our family and made it clear that we refused to believe the garbage she just unloaded. The following day, Ian was scheduled for surgery and we were surrounded by family and friends. Chris and I were in a place of total peace. I literally remember it like it was yesterday. There wasn't an ounce of fear or worry. Total peace unlike anything I've ever felt. We sat in the waiting room for 2 hours during Ian's surgery. I remember just being completely exhausted... emotionally and physically. I never once felt unsure of Ian's outcome though. To make a long story short, surgery was a success, he had a speedy recovery. His progress wow'ed the doctors at all of our follow-up appointments. We never once had to deal with a colostomy bag and we had absolutely ZERO (abnormal) trouble potty training him. I'm convinced that the devil had something else in mind for Ian. I'm also convinced that God honored our faith. He proved himself faithful to us. He gave us peace that passes all understanding during a really dark time. I know that everyone doesn't believe that it's God's will for you or I to be healed. I firmly believe that God honors his Word. There's nothing you can do or say to convince me otherwise. Regardless of what you believe, I know that the God I serve is a healer because I've experienced it. I've watched one of the most precious things in my life suffer and come out with not even a trace of disease. My son is all the proof I need. I am forever be grateful for my son and I am forever thankful to my God. :)
He personally bore our sins in His [own] body on the tree [as on an altar and offered Himself on it], that we might die (cease to exist) to sin and live to righteousness. By His wounds you have been healed. (1 Peter 2:24)
"Great crowds came to him, bringing the lame, the blind, the crippled, the mute and many others, and laid them at his feet; and he healed them ALL" (Matthew 15:30)
"Jesus Christ is the same yesterday and today and forever" (Hebrew 13:8)
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