We used to talk a lot about faith in religious circles, and perhaps maybe some still do, but for the most part, the discussions I’ve been privy to, or I should say debates, revolve around studying and grace. I believe we are called to study the Word of G-d. How else are we going to learn what He’s already said, what pleases Him and what doesn’t . . . and how that turns out? As for grace, I think it’s awesome, but it’s not license; but that’s not the topic of this particular writing.
There were complications when my twin granddaughters were born. I consider most of those complications to be at the hands of folks with god complexes in health care, but that’s also a topic for another time.
The second twin had problems at birth and wasn’t responding well, according to the nurses taking care of her, so she was to be transferred to a hospital, more specialized, I guess is the kindest way to say it. She was in that hospital for three weeks, with no progress made. She wouldn’t offer any signs of suckling and had an N-G tube for feeding. Therapists came around daily, with no positive results. That little bitty girl simply would not do anything they said she should do.
I was already dubbed the religious/minister grandma, so needless to say, there was no middle ground with those dealing with me. They were delighted to deal with me, or they dreaded my appearance. At least, we all knew where we stood, and I truly didn’t try to ruffle their feathers. To be honest, their beliefs were not my concern.
Through the time of her hospitalization, her sister was now home with her mom, so my daughter and I traded days, nights, and babies so both girls could be with their mom as much as possible. One night my daughter would be at the hospital and I’d be home with little “big sister.” The day my daughter and I would exchange places . . .
In the mean time, through all this, I had a vision. It was interesting, in that it was so quick and well, caught me completely unawares. I was going through the office of the mission to the kitchen when it occurred. I saw sitting upon my 3 drawer file cabinet, a huge can of powdered baby formula, with a tallit draped over it. That was it and of course as quickly as I attempted to take a double take, it vanished.
I prayed for clarity. I heard one thing. I heard, “She will eat.”
I then determined to physically and practically replicate that vision to something that would help my Granddaughter. I knew enough to know it pertained to her sustenance. With one newborn already home, I knew the hospital sent home powdered formula with the babies, so that was already covered. I went to my friend’s fabric store and bought some unbleached muslin, and pretty pink ribbon . . . I added that part.
I had no idea what would be coming next, but YHWH did.
My daughter was recovering as best she could while keeping the pace of taking care of one baby and being with one in another city, every day. We maintained this schedule until the big meeting, at the hospital. The day my Granddaughter was to be released I, of course, went with my daughter to listen to the “experts and their words of authority and discouragement.” The gist of the meeting amounted to this. They wanted to perform surgery and place a feeding tube directly into her stomach. Her mother didn’t want that and I knew G-d said otherwise, so we held our ground. We would work with the N-G tube at home. Oh, one other thing we were told, we shouldn’t try to get her to swallow liquids as she could choke. With that I knew, they had every intention of taking full control. What they didn’t know, was I serve a great big G-d sho has more control than their egos can even comprehend.
At that meeting we were told in no uncertain terms that if there were any complications or even if there was no weight gain, there would be legal action taken on their part . . . No pressure No problem for my G-d! That was a Wednesday with an appointment made for the following Thursday.
It was on the way home that He showed me the next part of the solution. I had tried and tried to get them to have the therapists work with her before she was tube fed, but they had their schedules, and I was just a crazy religious grandma, what did I know . . .
As His plan unfold in my spirit, I began to anticipate her next feeding. I carefully dampened the little cloth I’d washed and cut, placed some powdered formula in it, with just a pinch of sugar, gathered it and tied it with the pretty pink ribbon to make a sort of “cloth pacifier” and I waited . . . Her feeding was of course on a schedule, rather than demand like her sister, but those two babies, finally in the same town, same house, same room, were aware of each other. When the one on demand feeding cried and was fed, I prepared the tube feeding, and gathered up the “cloth pacifier.” YHWH is all about timing, you know. The cloth pacifier was just damp enough to absorb the formula and I touched it to her lips. She responded, like a normal baby . . . She nuzzled it, then actually took it into her mouth. She then suckled so hard we discovered she had a dimple! It was certainly a glory to G-d, shout HalleluYah moment! I, of course, began the tube feeding while she continued to suck on the formula filled cloth. It was simply amazing. It’s been over 14 years and my eyes still well up and goose bumps form as I write this!
Our one week “probation” was off to a roaring start! By the next Tuesday that tiny little girl was getting spunky enough, she pulled the tube out of her nose and I rigged up another way for her to be sustained by mouth . . . I was praising, YHWH was moving, and she was progressing.
The big day came. She was weighed and had gained over 7 ounces! So, as evil will do, a new hoop was added. Now that it was clear she had made progress and gained weight she would have to suck from a bottle to their satisfaction to be nourished or surgery was still on the table . . . Of course, they were the ones with the records of the meeting, so we had no proof they were changing the rules! We’d met the demands, so they raised the bar. As I mentioned, I’d rigged up another feeding method that still hadn’t required her to manage a bottle and nipple.
The therapist came in with a bottle and took that little girl in her arms, telling us what would be needed to avoid surgery. That little girl’s response shut the woman’s mouth. My G-d and my granddaughter met the demand and the therapist simply stated, “I have a new vision of G-d.”
The G-d of Israel still heals, saves and delivers, but I think we don’t see so much of this, because we concede to the powers that be, before we get to G-d’s big finish! Shadrach, Meshach and Abednego would not have seen the Son of G-d in the fiery furnace, if they’d have bowed down. They could have just “pretended to lace their sandals” and maybe gone unnoticed.
I can’t help but wonder in my own life and in those around me, how many mighty moves of G-d we miss, because we go ahead and eat the king’s food and go with the social norm and stand or bow when “the music starts.”
The invitation, instruction, and opportunity is succinct, but I believe, just as those three Hebrew boys in Babylon, we have to already be living set apart and willing to stand separate before we see the Son of G-d in the firey furnace we face.
Wherefore come out from among them, and be ye separate, says Y‘hshuwah, and touch not the unclean thing; and I will receive you, II Corinthians 6:17
