A mother shares her story

(This is my second post on this same reading – see also previous post ‘Foreign things’ )

He wasn’t going to get away with that put-me-down, and he knew it!

Did he think that, after sticking my neck out so far already, I’d just turn and run?   No way!    There were bigger things at stake.  My daughter needed help and I believed that he had the power to give it.  So, I wasn’t going to give up without a fight.  I was going to press on regardless.

Now, don’t get me wrong:  I had great hesitations about going to see him.  I stood an awful long time before I knocked on the door and, even then, I almost turned and legged it before anyone answered.  But where would that have got me?  How would that have helped my darling daughter?  I’d have been saved embarrassment, may be, but she would still be tormented.  And so would I.  If I had not taken the chance… if I had not tried, at least… then how could I have lived with the knowledge that I had failed her?

And don’t go thinking I didn’t know he might reject me.  I knew alright!  I am not a Jew.  I don’t follow the God that they do.  But if he is half the god they say he is – kind, compassionate and, above all, a powerful deliverer – then I was a going to give him a try!  Theirs is exactly the kind of deity I was in need of.  Only a god like that could save my daughter.  So I pressed on.

To be honest, I was not surprised by his retort: ‘It’s not for you, it’s for the children!’   Shocking? Yes, but that’s exactly what I expected him to say.  What did surprise me, however, was the way that he said it.  It didn’t feel like a rebuke to me.  More like a challenge … offering hope. His words were careful, talking of a plan and a purpose that began with his people.  But he did not say that it ended with them!  ‘The children eat first’ – OK.  But who will eat next? 

So he called me ‘a dog’? – who cares!  Could I really argue?   I had come into the house as a scavenger.  There was no place laid at the table for me.  I am not family; I do not belong.   But even the dogs get the scraps, and the scraps were good enough for me.  The food he had to offer, if the rumours were correct, was so special that I’d be happy with just that.

You see, all I needed was for my daughter to get better.  My only request was for one small child to be released from hell.  One small, special child.  My child.

I brought my appeal for her sake, not mine.  For her and her alone, I stepped right out of my comfort zone -way beyond the norm – risking huge disappointment and rejection but not allowing the fear of that to put me off.  Love and compassion drove me.  That’s something I believed he would understand.  Why? Because, I’m certain, that’s exactly what drives him.     

And, thankfully, I was proved right.

I have sat by her bedside all through the night, just watching her…  Her face, so calm … her sleep so restful and deep.   For the first time in years there were no screams and nightmares.  She is at peace.  The torment has gone.  And I have got Jesus to thank for that.

He has gone now, too.  Back to his home – to Israel, and the people he is called to serve first.  But he will be back soon, I reckon.  If not in person, he’ll send his followers, for certain.   His love can’t be just for one group of people.  It’s bound to spill out and touch so many.  It will keep on overflowing, till it reaches the very ends of the earth.

He’s proven that to me, anyway.

Syria;  

Lebanon;

Countless far-off, forgotten and foreign places

Where un-named mothers cry their hearts out for their children;

Lord, be there today.

And not just with breadcrumbs

But with the full feast of life.

In Jesus’ name, Amen.