Who Said It Couldn't Be Done?

PRAYER CHANGES THINGS

It is something of a miracle that I was even born. Back when my mother, Annie Mae Jones, was only eight years old, she and a friend decided to go bike riding through the neighborhood. Suddenly, a car struck forty-eight pound Annie Mae, she was thrown from the bike and flung haphazardly into the air. The driver of the car panicked and swerved all over the street. When Annie Mae smashed to the ground, the massive car made a remarkable finish as well. Its tremendous front wheel plopped down for the last time, and Annie Mae didn’t move; she didn’t do anything, not even blink. A growing pool of blood oozed from beneath the resting wheel. Everyone thought Annie Mae was dead. She was so small that the huge tire seemed to cover her entire body, though it rested only on her stomach. Neighbors from all around gathered, squinting at the alarming sight as they watched the firefighters pry poor Annie Mae from beneath that killer wheel.

Matted in clunks of blood and dirt, lifeless Annie Mae was rushed by ambulance to Mary Thompson Hospital, where it was determined that she was hemorrhaging. The Hospital Director signed proxy for the surgery required to stop the bleeding. When Annie Mae’s parents arrived, they were told that, given the extent of Annie Mae’s injuries, the Director’s quick action probably saved Annie Mae’s life. She was losing so much blood that she would have certainly died if they had waited for her parents to arrive.

After twenty-three hours of pacing back and forth in the waiting room, Nathaniel and Annie Belle Jones were finally able to breathe a sigh of relief when the doctor told them that the surgery was successful and all signs of hemorrhaging had ceased. However, their short spurt of jubilation fizzled fast as the doctor continued his report, saying, “We were able to stop the hemorrhaging, but it still doesn’t look good. Annie Mae is in a coma.”

My Grandmother screamed out in agony and grabbed her chest, falling back clumsily into Grandfather. He caught her before she hit the floor and helped her to a nearby chair.  After the doctor had brought my Grandmother a cup of water and when she was able to compose herself, he continued with the worst part of the report. “Annie Mae’s reproductive organs were irreversibly damaged by the accident, which means she will never be able to bear children.”

“Oh my God. Lord Jesus! Oh my Sweet Jesus!!” Grandmother screamed out over and over, clutching her chest again. The doctor assured them that he and the rest of the hospital staff would do everything in their power to help Annie Mae recover, then he left them to themselves.

What followed could probably be noted as the first move of God in my life, or what would later become my life. During my mother’s stay in the hospital, God used Evangelist Mattie B. Poole, a powerful, praying woman of deep spiritual faith. Evangelist Poole was a regular visitor at Mary Thompson Hospital in those days. Often this Woman of God would march down the halls of the huge building, stopping at the bedside of patients, known and unknown, to dispense her straightforward knowledge of God’s Word, His loving care and healing power. Evangelist Poole knew that the Lord had given her the gift of healing, so her ministry largely involved prayer and the “laying on of hands” on the sick to aid their recovery.

During one of Evangelist Poole’s visits, she entered little Annie Mae’s room and marveled at the small, lifeless child lying there. Slowly she stretched forth her hands, placing them firmly on the comatose child as my grandparents looked on silently. “Heavenly Father, in Jesus’ Name,” Evangelist Poole whispered, “bring this peculiar child back to life. Awaken her from this unusual sleep; this unnatural, comatose state. Grant this precious and innocent child an opportunity to tread the path that You have marked and chosen for her feet to travel.  Father, in Jesus’ Name, I humbly ask that You restore ten-fold, thirty-fold, sixty-fold, and even one hundred-fold, health and strength so that she may accomplish and complete her destined purpose; the purpose You have ordained for her life, even before this precious child was born.  Father, in the Wonderful Name of Your Darling Son, Christ Jesus, I ask you to restore this child’s reproductive organs. Allow her womb to be fertile, that she may bear children, even children that will bring Thy Name glory and honor, both male and female alike in Jesus’ Name.”