ann kiemel

when my children call,

we talk..and i listen..until

the atmosphere is such

that they are safe enough to

tell me what they really need

to talk about.

it brings back all the memories

of bedtime when they were very

small.  it was a ritual.  I would lie

next to each one in the darkness

of their bedrooms. hold a little

hand, and have them tell me

anything they wanted before they

fell asleep.

four little boys.

scrubbed clean from baths.

and they would tell me things

that had  never been spoken in

the glare of daylight.

"mommy, my friend laughed

at me today."

"honey, that sounds terrible.

it must have really hurt your

feelings."

"it did. and he made fun of

my shoes, too."

Jesus is so safe to me.

oh, i can run to Him in my

darkness, and i know He loves

and embraces me.  i feel so

unworthy of such love, but

i don't let that stop me.  there

is nothing my children can

do to separate me from them,

and everything i know about

unconditional love, i've learned

from Jesus. He is the Author of it!!!

the picture of me posted a

couple days ago was snapped

by my friend at a bishop's house.

a brilliant, charming, anglican

bishop who had invited seven

of us to dinner.

over hor'deuves, he began to

tell stories of healings.   and

that Jesus never prayed for

people to be healed. He just

commanded it.

almost all of us needed

healing somewhere.  my

left foot, with ligament damage,

still makes it excruciating to

walk.  four months, and if i

walk on it for two hours, it

swells to distortion.  my skinny,

quick, runner's foot.  my right

foot has developed a lump of

bone at the base of my big toe.

pushing the toe inward like a

severe pigeon-toe.  tomorrow,

i must go back into surgery to

have it corrected.

i swallow two pain pills to get

up in the morning and just

walk to the bathroom.  it has

terrified me.  the doctor,  a top

ankle-foot specialist, made it

sound so uncomplicated.

sitting in front of the bishop,

head bowed, several priests,

and my friends' hands  on me, 

bishop schofield prayed...and

then commanded, in the Name

of Jesus, that my feet be whole.

nothing has happened yet,

but would you please be

praying?  i'm tough-spirited.

my feet have carried me

thousands and thousands of

miles.  my doctor always says

i have the strongest heartbeat.

it can only belong to a runner.

pain pills (by far not the strongest)

do not destroy my sobriety because

this is pain so wrenching that i

can't describe it.  it gives me chills

and makes my stomach hurt.

"as the deer panteth for the water,

so my soul longeth after Thee.

Thou alone art my heart's desire,

and i long  to worship Thee.

"You, alone, are my Strength

and Shield.  to You, alone, doth

my spirit yield.  You  alone are my

heart's desire...and i long to

worship You."

where, fellow warriors, do you

need healing?  where is your pain?

we are going to stand  together.

waiting for God's command,

"be healed!"