“I’m getting the word frantic for someone in the room,” she said.
Oh sure, that could be anyone. Whose life isn’t frantic these days?
“Frantic and a complete lack of peace. Somehow it’s connected to allergies. This person may not have even put these two together yet.”
How could she possibly know that? I’d been trying to put up such a brave front – showing the world I had it all together. I was trying to show I knew what I was doing, full of confidence. Inside, I was falling apart. And physically, I was in more pain that I could remember being in for a very long time – maybe ever. So much pain. Some days my eyes were hot with tears that I was trying to hide. The pain on the outside matched the intensity of the pain on the inside. It had been getting progressively worse for weeks.
“Frantic….allergies.”
How could she know? I know she has the gift of knowledge, but still. How could she know that?
I tried to become invisible in my chair. No one could know. People I knew were in the room. What would they think? Would they feel sorry for me in my weakness? Would they mock me for it? Believe it was real?
“Come forward. Let us pray for you. Let us pray for peace in your heart and healing in your body.”
I’ve requested prayer for healing for my body more times than I can count. What was the use? How would this be any different? I willed myself to be glued into my chair.
“Come forward. If you have pain we want to pray for you.”
My body left the chair. I felt compelled. It certainly wasn’t of my own volition.
“How can we pray for you?” her husband asked.
Archive for March, 2009
The Power of Prayer
Kennedy
I first met Kennedy after another long day in the city where I had once again been unsuccessful in most of my endeavors. And I was in a foul mood.
I was on my way home and peeved that I had to make yet another stop. Why couldn’t there be fast food drive-thrus like the “civilized” country I had come from? As I gathered my purse, cell phone, and list, Kennedy approached my car. I had already shooed away the men selling socket wrenches, DVDs and talk time. I didn’t have time to deal with this kid too. I’d always managed to dodge him before. This time though, he was there before I even got out of the car.
“Madam, ground nuts?” he asked in a nearly inaudible voice.
“No, I don’t want any.”
“Only 5000, madam.” I did the math in my head. That was about a buck for what looked like 3-4 pounds of peanuts.
“No, I don’t want any,” I repeated a bit more sternly.
“Madam. Please.” He said it with such a sad, pathetic look on his face.
“No, I’m allergic to ground nuts.” That wasn’t really true. Just intolerant, not allergic. And I don’t really like them anyway. Thinking I was safe, I stormed off into the Castle Supermarket.
It was nearly dark when I reemerged loaded down with groceries. In a country where the average worker earns 10,000 ZMK per day, I’m sure I had just spent 100,000 ZMK ($20) without a second thought.
I had already reversed my car out of the parking space when he showed up at my open window.
“Please, madam, I need money to buy notebooks for school.”
