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mom

September 25, 2006

Timothy and I have dinner with my parents on Sunday nights (and do laundry), and it’s time I value. This past Sunday something came up that might have taken us away, but for whatever reason we decided to pass and do dinner as usual.

It was a normal Sunday evening at mom and dad’s – dinner and sitting around. At one point, mom made a comment about how nice it would be to get one night’s sleep. I pressed the point a bit and she told us her neck and shoulders have been bothering her, and once she wakes up she lays awake thinking/worrying. She didn’t say what she worries about, but the woman has this uncanny ability to worry about anything. Immediately I heard Holy Spirit, “Pray over her.” I responded, “I will.”

Something about my parents inspires this uncharacteristic timidity in me. I don’t know what it is, but I’ve always been very non-confrontational toward them. Although lately I’ve been much, much better.

For the remaining hour of the evening Holy Spirit would remind me, “You are going to pray, right?” “Don’t forget to pray before you leave.” I actually answered out loud while I was alone in the basement, pulling laundry out of the dryer, “Yes! I will pray.”

So as we discussed getting off the couches to go – and mom to go to bed – I turned to her, “Mom, can we pray with you before we go – for the shoulder and the not sleeping?” She laughed uncomfortably and consented, and Timothy echoed, “Ya, I really felt to pray with you too.” We each laid a hand on her shoulders; prayed very simply for healing, sleep, and peace of mind; and gave hugs. She made a comment about us having “hot little hands” (which is funny because I was freezing) that I think she knew meant more than body heat.

Hallelujah that He gives us the words to speak in that hour. In retrospect, I realized I said, “pray for you,” not “over you,” which might have been oddly authoritative for mom. I was also acutely aware that I should not pray in tongues, though it’s my natural reaction to do so – for mom it would have been very uncomfortable and no one should be uncomfortable if she’s being prayed over.

On the way home, Timothy told me he’d felt the clear conviction to pray the same time I did, and that he did feel a heat moving through his hand. Awesome. I believe with all my heart she woke up rested and well this morning – anyway it’s Jesus’ name on the line, not mine!

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