Yesterday I was out on a walk praying about different concerns,
reminding God about what I have going on in my life and how much I need Him to intervene.
You know, just in case He forgot.
I was caught up in worry...
like maybe this time around He couldn't handle what I was asking Him to do.
And this thought popped into my head.
"I raised your Mom from the dead."
Just like that. Like raising someone from the dead is no big deal.
Which of course, to the One who breaths galaxies into existence, it isn't.
I forget that the One that loves us most of all, loves impossible odds.
He tends to do his best work in those situations.
Sometimes the Holy Spirit has to remind me of who He is...
because I tend to make him small and nervous in my mind.
Of course, at the thought of my mom, I burst into tears. Tears of relief and joy.
One year ago today, my mom woke up from an induced paralytic coma
after experiencing sudden cardiac death.
I remember the feeling that I had when my brother-in-law Van called
and told me that she was being airlifted to the hospital
and they didn't know what was going to happen.
It was like the air had just been sucked out of the room and we couldn't get it back.
The call sent us four kids scrambling. We couldn't stop crying but more than anything
we just needed to be with Mom and Dad.
Jenny and I flew to Colorado from California, Van and Erica flew from Oregon,
and Christ and Traci raced back home from their vacation in Hawaii.
The doctors told us, "She may come back, she may come back with brain damage,
she may not come back at all."
My dad stayed in her room. He couldn't eat. He couldn't sleep.
He couldn't leave her. His heart was with her. It was breaking.
We four kids were beside ourselves. Because this was Mom.
The one who loves us so good and strong.
The doctor's and nurses caring for Mom, were so kind, so careful with her,
speaking words of encouragement to her even though she couldn't answer back.
Sitting in her hospital room, with a million tubes linked to her body, her stillness, her silence,
left us only one choice, to ask the God of the Universe to do what only He could do.
Breathe life back into my Mom.
Around the world, thousands of friends and friends of friends, prayed with us,
surrounding us with grace and hemming us in with hope.
We sat around her bed and sang songs. Songs about the mightiness of God.
Songs about his power and grace.
Songs reminding us and Mom about the miraculous God we love.
When we left Mom's room that night we were hoping against hope.
We were asking God to do the impossible. He was the only one who could.
In those midnight hours laced with prayer, in that small hospital room,
in the midst of beeping machines and whistling breathing apparatus,
God began to sing a different song over my mom.
A song of life and hope and joy and healing. A wake up song. A get up song.
It is the best song we have ever heard.
A mighty shout had gone up into the heavens on her behalf.
And He answered back with his own shout, "YES!"
Around 2 am in the morning, May 24th of last year, my mom started to wake up.
And we had a party. A crying, laughing, hugging, overflowing with joy party.
A Resurrection Day party!
And on this one year anniversary, we are standing in that place of joy again.
Mom is fully recovered, working in her garden, laughing with her grandkids,
loving Dad and us with everything she's got.
She made 8 apple pies this past Thursday. She and Dad hand delivered them to the
fire department, police department and the medical teams
at the two different hospitals that cared for her.
She says it is the diligence of man and the hand of God that saved her.
And we will never be the same. We see life through a different lens now.
The other night we were having dinner with Scott's sister, Cheri and her family.
Jack and his cousin, Brian, were talking about the phrase, YOLO...
You Only Live Once. That is unless you are a cat. Then you get 9 lives.
Will piped up from across the table,
"You only live once. Unless you are Jesus, Lazurus or Grandma."
Truer words have never been spoken.
Today's worries and cares seem small against the backdrop of that miracle day last year.
The God who loves us most of all, who delights in the details of our lives,
is a God of incredible power, unfathomable strength and insurmountable hope.
And apparently, He is calling the shots. It just doesn't get better than that.
So on this bright May morning, I just have one thing to say.
Happy Resurrection Day!