Drawing close to God

"Mama ," my four-year-old whispered as he crawled up by me on the bed in the middle of the night, "I'm healed!" He couldn't wait until morning to tell me. He was so happy that his voice practically glowed in the dark.

His healing was far beyond "feeling OK," beyond "getting over" his earache of the night before. He sounded as if he had found a secret treasure and just had to share it with someone. And he'd found the right person to share it with. I glowed, too. We hugged. And we thanked God for being so good and for loving us so much. We both knew without a doubt that it was God who had taken away the pain, because we had prayed that He would.

What is it about such a short-lived event, a little tick in time nearly a quarter of a century ago, that I can picture it so vividly, so unfadingly, in the galleries of my memory? Maybe it has something to do with the fact that a spiritual healing embodies so much more than a cure—though cures are wonderful. Everybody wants to be free of disease, disability, despair. But when an "answered prayer" kind of healing cures you, it also draws you closer to God—pulls you right into the arms of a love that won't let go.

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February 17, 2003
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