I had a dream about my grandson just now. It’s 5:48 am. My husband is already gone to work. Bless him.
My grandson was born during the worst of the pandemic. I didn’t see him or hold him for four months. I’ve only seen him five times since then. The prognosis for the future is not much better.
So that’s my row to hoe. My lemons from life. My sitch. (Short for situation, Auntie. From the show Kimpossible.)
I keep thinking of iron lungs. as in polio.
The crumpled (tearstrained, I bet) baby picture of Charles Stanley that was found wedged into the casing of his dad’s iron lung in the polio ward where he lived out his last years.
away from his family
visited only by his tired wife ( between jobs and caring for their small child).
The photo of their son was found wedged so as to be seen by the polio patient during his long, silent immobile hours.
un-kissed and un-played with but not un-loved or un-seen.🌻
I believe that the annointing on Charles Stanley’s preaching, living and helping is largely due to the prayers his father prayed for him as he lay there, imprisoned in a big iron cage that was breathing for him.
( I am just one such person Pastor Stanley has helped. Through his YouTube sermons. Saved my life once from death my own hand. Grateful.)
God was talking to me (However that works?) About my grandson who I’ve only seen a handful of hours in his little life.
Born during the pandemic.
un-kissed and un-played with but not un-loved or un-seen.🌻,
God was offering me a deal. A promise.
If I will pray over him from my MS bed.
If I will ask Him.
Trust Him with my little guy.
Then He takes that seriously. He will give my sweet grandbaby’s life
favor and blessings and love and usefulness.
Even though I can’t be there, He CAN. He’s all over it.
He answers the prayers of lonely grandmas
and rejected servants
and beleaguered single parents
And just anyone who asks
Because He’s the God who sees me.