"Therefore confess your sins to each other and pray for each other so that you may be healed. The prayer of a righteous man is powerful and effective." James 5:16
It was a little over a week ago. I had come to the hostel to unload some dirty clothes and pack some clean clothes for the beach. I was headed out to meet my mom in the car and leave for the beach with her.
As I was leaving, I saw Warden, who had her foot elevated again. She had surgery a few months back and frequently has her sore foot wrapped and elevated.
"Have you seen a physio-therapist?" I asked her.
"Too expensive," she said.
"Amma is a physio-therapist," I said, nodding towards the direction of the car.
"Poa?"
"Yes, we're leaving now. Kovalam Beach."
I walked to the car, and we began to drive away. Something within me was violently struggling, and I said to mom, "Warden had foot surgery a few months back. Her foot is sore again today. She said that physical therapy is too costly."
"Do you think...? Turn the car around," mom told the driver. I knew she would.
I was reminded of the verse in James that so frequently convicts me here: "Anyone who knows the good he ought to do and doesn't do it, sins."
We walked into the hostel. I was nervous. Warden doesn't speak really any English. She was lying down now, trying to nap, and hadn't put her hair up. Would she be embarrassed to see my mom like this? There weren't any girls around to translate. Would warden be okay with this? Could my mom even do anything to help her?
Warden very willingly got up, gave my mom her medical records, and let her examine her foot. Warden is a very respected woman, very matronly. To see her with her hair down, pulling up her pant leg, unwrapping her wrappings in front of my mom with such innocent trust was beautiful. My mom gently examined her foot. She told me she knew only one stretch, really, that might help. With broken English and my attempted Malayalam here and there, my mom successfully taught Warden a very simple stretch for her calf, a super common stretch that you and I probably do every day.
"Can you think of anything else?" I asked my mother.
"No, not really. That's just a basic stretch." Then she laid her hands on Warden's foot again, not to examine it, but to pray over it.
We both talked about this encounter on the way to the beach. I was deeply touched by my mother's immediate willingness to help, and by Warden's eagerness to unwrap her wrappings and sit silently, with childlike faith, submitting her dirty foot to a stranger's hands. I was embarrassed because of my hesitancy and lack of faith. I was curious whether she had understood the instructions about the stretch or not.
I came back to the hostel a few days ago. One of the girls, Peny, was talking with me on my porch, saying how much she'd enjoyed meeting my mom.
"Does your mother have healing powers?" she asked suddenly.
"What? No. Why do you ask?"
"Because Warden's foot is better. She didn't tell you? She says since your mother saw her foot and prayed over it, there is very small pain there now. She is very happy." Then we both wept with joy on my porch.
Sure enough, shortly thereafter, Warden was walking through the yard in circles, very fast, with a new look in her face. I came down to her. She showed me how she's been doing the stretch and said, "Small, small pain" and "when Amma prayed." She took my hand and kissed it. With tears in her eyes, she looked at me and said, "I am very happy. Praise the Lord!" I jumped up and down with joy as we praised Him together.
Since then, there is something special about the relationship I have with Warden. She walks every day now out in the yard, quickly, and stretches. And she smiles. She doesn't know this, but sometimes I watch her from my porch secretly and smile, too.
God, I am so amazed at this healing. Thank You that when my faith is so small, You never change. Thank you for this miracle. Thank you for Your healing touch. May I never doubt the real, tangible power of prayer.
It was a little over a week ago. I had come to the hostel to unload some dirty clothes and pack some clean clothes for the beach. I was headed out to meet my mom in the car and leave for the beach with her.
As I was leaving, I saw Warden, who had her foot elevated again. She had surgery a few months back and frequently has her sore foot wrapped and elevated.
"Have you seen a physio-therapist?" I asked her.
"Too expensive," she said.
"Amma is a physio-therapist," I said, nodding towards the direction of the car.
"Poa?"
"Yes, we're leaving now. Kovalam Beach."
I walked to the car, and we began to drive away. Something within me was violently struggling, and I said to mom, "Warden had foot surgery a few months back. Her foot is sore again today. She said that physical therapy is too costly."
"Do you think...? Turn the car around," mom told the driver. I knew she would.
I was reminded of the verse in James that so frequently convicts me here: "Anyone who knows the good he ought to do and doesn't do it, sins."
We walked into the hostel. I was nervous. Warden doesn't speak really any English. She was lying down now, trying to nap, and hadn't put her hair up. Would she be embarrassed to see my mom like this? There weren't any girls around to translate. Would warden be okay with this? Could my mom even do anything to help her?
Warden very willingly got up, gave my mom her medical records, and let her examine her foot. Warden is a very respected woman, very matronly. To see her with her hair down, pulling up her pant leg, unwrapping her wrappings in front of my mom with such innocent trust was beautiful. My mom gently examined her foot. She told me she knew only one stretch, really, that might help. With broken English and my attempted Malayalam here and there, my mom successfully taught Warden a very simple stretch for her calf, a super common stretch that you and I probably do every day.
"Can you think of anything else?" I asked my mother.
"No, not really. That's just a basic stretch." Then she laid her hands on Warden's foot again, not to examine it, but to pray over it.
We both talked about this encounter on the way to the beach. I was deeply touched by my mother's immediate willingness to help, and by Warden's eagerness to unwrap her wrappings and sit silently, with childlike faith, submitting her dirty foot to a stranger's hands. I was embarrassed because of my hesitancy and lack of faith. I was curious whether she had understood the instructions about the stretch or not.
I came back to the hostel a few days ago. One of the girls, Peny, was talking with me on my porch, saying how much she'd enjoyed meeting my mom.
"Does your mother have healing powers?" she asked suddenly.
"What? No. Why do you ask?"
"Because Warden's foot is better. She didn't tell you? She says since your mother saw her foot and prayed over it, there is very small pain there now. She is very happy." Then we both wept with joy on my porch.
Sure enough, shortly thereafter, Warden was walking through the yard in circles, very fast, with a new look in her face. I came down to her. She showed me how she's been doing the stretch and said, "Small, small pain" and "when Amma prayed." She took my hand and kissed it. With tears in her eyes, she looked at me and said, "I am very happy. Praise the Lord!" I jumped up and down with joy as we praised Him together.
Since then, there is something special about the relationship I have with Warden. She walks every day now out in the yard, quickly, and stretches. And she smiles. She doesn't know this, but sometimes I watch her from my porch secretly and smile, too.
God, I am so amazed at this healing. Thank You that when my faith is so small, You never change. Thank you for this miracle. Thank you for Your healing touch. May I never doubt the real, tangible power of prayer.
"Like" :)
ReplyDelete