Prayer works.
That’s a simple yet powerful statement that I felt like sharing with my readers because I experienced how it does over the weekend.
Our youngest son Jase broke his upper left arm this weekend. And the hours following his injury were probably the worst times of our lives for both my husband Jason and me as parents.
We were blessed that it wasn’t as bad as it could have been. The emergency room physicians explained to us that his break would not require surgery, but it would involve heavy medication in order to set his bone back in place with a brace.
It was quite the experience. Holding our son’s hands, we had to offer what comfort we could as a team of physicians aligned his bone back into place. I broke down during this moment because as a parent, you want to be able to fix anything for your kids or at least take their troubles onto yourself. It broke my heart to hear my baby begging for me to help him and not being able to.
When the ordeal was over, a doctor saw me upset and approached me.
“Momma, with all the medicine we have him on, he’s not going to remember this,” she said. “He will not have this trauma in his memory. And you shouldn’t either. Let’s just get him healed up.”
I truly feel God put her there with such a statement for me because I needed to hear it. And she was right. Jase didn’t remember any of it.
Hours later, we got Jase home, and his pain was horrible. But it was also the amount of medicine he had been on throughout the night, tossing his little brain all over the place. It took awhile, but we finally got him peaceful and asleep.
Turning over on my pillow around 4 a.m., I started praying. And I didn’t stop until 6 a.m.
I can remember my exact thoughts.
“God, I know you are not big on the making deals department, but put his pain onto me if you want to. Please give him comfort, peace and a speedy recovery. I know it’s not going to be a cake walk, and he is going to be uncomfortable. But please don’t let him hurt like that in the morning. Let him wake up not hurting like that, I beg you.”
I never went to sleep that night. After my final prayer, I eventually just got up to make a pot of coffee. That was when I heard something behind me.
It was Jase, holding his left arm with his new brace around it. He was completely calm, not at all as inconsolable as he was just a mere few hours prior.
“Momma,” he asked. “Can we watch television?”
I almost broke down into tears right there in front of him. Jase was clearly uncomfortable, but he wasn’t crying or upset.
I helped him to the recliner in our living room, elevating his broken arm and quickly getting cartoons on the television.
“How do you feel right now,” I asked.
“My arm hurts, but I’m fine,” he replied. “Can I have some water? How am I going to read my summer book with only one good hand?”
I welcomed every question he had with a smile. And the remainder of our “first day” of recovery went just like the first few moments of the morning.
We continued our dosage of over the counter medicine, not yet needing any of the prescribed pain pills. He ate two huge bowls of gumbo. He took a long nap. He walked around the house “for exercise.” He received a visit from his sweet neighborhood friends with gifts and drawings. He received an ice cream delivery from a family friend. He even asked for me to sit on the porch with him so he could watch Jason and big brother James clean the yard.
Other than a few tears at bedtime because he couldn’t get comfortable, it was a good day.
Despite the road he has ahead of him over the course of the next 12 weeks, his first day was a blessing, a prayer answered. He was not in terrible pain. And that was exactly what I asked for in my prayer to God.
I know there are going to be some bad days. There will be some frustrations. There will be endless appointments and therapy sessions. And the Patterson home will adjust as best we can during Jase’s recovery.
But I will never forget that one answered prayer when I felt like I was at the bottom of a pit. I felt like I couldn’t fix anything. I was tired and beat. I was heartbroken at the pain my child was experiencing.
And I went to the Lord with a simple prayer. And my heart glowed when He answered it within two hours.
Some might call it coincidence. A few will say there was a logical explanation. But not me. I know what it was.
It was a prayer. And it worked.
