When God Whispers…

It was a mostly ordinary, winter day for our family.  It was Sunday,
so we dressed in our best and went to a faith-filled service at
church.  Then, with stomachs growling, headed over to one of our
favorite steakhouses to appropriately celebrate the Day of Rest…with
feasting that would soon induce a glorious, Sabbath nap.

We were seated, started ferociously tearing through the complimentary
peanuts, and then…they arrived.  Like manna from heaven, perfect,
golden & puffy, and dripping with butter.  Texas Roadhouse rolls…mmmm.

I glanced across the table at my husband, who sat with hands folded in
his lap, staring into space.  As our two girls ripped apart the rolls
and claimed their own cinnamon-butter containers, he didn’t budge.
Something was definitely wrong.  I watched as he quickly looked in the
direction of the table across the aisle from us, then looked
down…staring blankly through those rolls that seemed to call out his
name.

I, too, looked across the aisle, and saw a precious little family. A
grandma, a mom, and a little boy.  The boy looked about 5 years old
and was visibly handicapped, his right arm rigidly bent towards his
body and his head turned sharply to the right.  Looking again at my
husband, I knew he was uncomfortable…not at the sight of this
handicapped little boy, but at the faint whisper of God, asking him to
do something bold and quite extraordinary.  Something normal people
don’t do on normal Sunday afternoons at restaurants.

We ordered our food, it was delivered to us, and again…my husband
sat staring at his steak.   Nothing could taunt him into having an
appetite now, not even the smell of a freshly barbequed, succulent
sirloin.  He pushed his plate away, and with an apparent
determination, he approached the table across the aisle.  He bent down
and spoke softly to the mother, his eyes beaming with a passion and
confidence supplied only by the grace of the Holy Spirit.

“Can I please pray for your son?”  I heard him ask the mom.  She
nodded, respectfully.  He placed his hand on the boy, closed his eyes,
and prayed passionately for a minute.  Waitresses and customers looked
inquisitively as they walked by, but all I could see in that minute,
was heaven smiling as a son was obedient to the still, small prompting
of the Father to reach out in faith.  And I know, in that minute, the
boy didn’t immediately sit up straight, healed in a moment.  But with
my eyes, I saw a tiny glimpse of Jesus’ heart for that visibly
imperfect boy.  He wasn’t at all a mistake.  He was a precious gift to
this world, that participated in a life-changing minute of my
husband’s life, and our faith will never be as small as before that
moment.

“His name is Timmy,” my husband said as he returned to our table, his
eyes brimming with faith and tears.  The whisper of God gave us the
opportunity to know more about this boy than the millions of strangers
that will pass by him in his life and only see an unfortunate mishap of creation.  We now know
his name, we know he is a precious gift to this world, dear to the
Father’s heart, and we know his healing is on the way.

So, thanks Timmy, for turning a rather ordinary Sunday into an
extraordinary moment in our lives.

{this post is dedicated to my amazing husband, whose faith & simple obedience navigate the destiny of our family}

 

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6 thoughts on “When God Whispers…

  1. Oh i really love this story so much! i almost cried, its the love of THE father’s heart. so sweet….i love the Lee Fam! :)

  2. This post blessed my heart so much. God gave me a heart for the disabled long ago-and sometimes I feel like the world just passes them by. It brought me to tears to read about your experience with Timmy. Please tell Mike thank you for being Jesus…

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