The next few days were very difficult days for me and the nights were the darkest nights of my entire life.Jem's condition had progressed from bad to
worse. The sausage shaped mass that I palpated on the right lower quadrant of his abdomen earlier seemed obliterated because his abdomen was bloated and very tense. Signs of peritonitis had set in and my fear of a ruptured appendix was
real. He has become a poor surgical risk, the more reason I would not take him to the hospital . The prospect of him dying on the operating table stopped the urge to call my friends again. I did not want the enemy to put a wedge in the
relationship. Even if it were my fault, a patient death would still not be good statistics for them. I must take full responsibility for my delayed obedience to medical protocol. But if "better late than never" to man' s
protocol will mean disobedience to God's word at the last minute, the consequence of my act to follow my own wisdom scared me. If my son should die because I disobeyed man, I will not let him die because I disobeyed God. I believe that
my God is able to meet me at the point of my need and longing to know him and obey him. If my understanding of him is imperfect, and my hearing of him is inaccurate, he will put me right. He wants me to be perfect, to be accurate.
How can I go thru all these at the expense of my son? What kind of a mother was I? But God who made me a mother,
and gave me my son is still the Perfect Parent. I cannot love my son more than God loves him. Then I remember God has no grandsons nor granddaughters. He only has sons and daughters. That makes Jem and me his son and daughter at the same
time. But as his mother I have to surrender him to God and put both of us at his mercy. Then I understood what Abraham went thru as he offered Isaac. From the time he heard God , then the trip to the mountain and putting a bound Isaac on
the altar, to the point where he raised his hand to give the sacrificial blow --- that must have been like eternity. From my vantage point of several thousand years later, I see a ram caught in the thicket, God's provision in the place
of Isaac. It is written in the bible for me to see, but his agenda concerning Jem's appendicitis I could only see up to the point where I would close the door to consultations with my friends and colleagues. This time it will be between
God and me.
I scrolled my memory for things that I had done or not done and what I could do about them.
Things I thought I had offered to God but took back. My profession? my family? Had I taken back what God had designated as devoted unto him or set apart for him alone because, like King Saul, I thought they were too good to be wasted? I
listened for any bleating of the sheep or lowing of cattle, what had seemed to be precious and perfect to be wasted on the altar. Indeed, watching my son's condition, the prospect of having to sign my own son's death certificate became
real, and losing my license for my indiscretion became even more so. At this point I broke and said I will not let anybody sign for me if it had to be, I am willing to give up my license.
But please, dear God, may I have my son ?
I have often been called headstrong and sharptongued by many, a quality brought to the fore when I have facts to back me up. When I think I heard from God I would insist to a point where even my husband thinks I'm
being unsubmissive. I would wish I would mellow and be meek and mild and be like sister so and so. But God made me me. If my head is as hard as flint, it is to be used as a battering ram against strongholds in spiritual warfare. It is
not pleasant mostly but when I do get into the momentum it is hard to stop. So I prayed to God to make my tongue stick to the roof of my mouth if he wanted me to be quiet. He'd just have to say Remember Jeremiah.