Don’t Give in to Fear

Don’t Give in to Fear

For God hath not given us the spirit of fear; but of power, and of love, and of a sound mind. 2 Timothy 1:7 KJV.

I like the King James version of this verse because it uses the phrase “sound mind” instead of self-discipline or self-control. Fear tends to make us conjure up a lot of possible (usually frightening) outcomes as a response to something we can’t control.

Fear takes away our usual sound or rational thoughts.

I am not usually a fearful person, but this past week tested me.

My 23-year-old daughter started showing symptoms of the coronavirus last Tuesday—sore throat, headache, and fever. We hoped it was a normal virus or cold. But by Friday she had pressure in her chest and was weak and dizzy.

She could barely walk across the room without resting. She was nauseous if she thought about eating.

My momma heart hurt for her, and fear was crouching at the door of my emotions. I told the Lord I didn’t want to give in to the fear that was threatening to take over me. I told Him this many times. I kept praying for Alexandria.

If you’ve read many of my blogs, you know my twins were preemies—born at 27 weeks. They had their share of ventilators, pneumonia, and asthma. We worried that her lungs could be ripe for this virus.

Let me just say here she was never officially tested or diagnosed. We were told to stay away from hospitals and doctors’ offices unless you were having trouble breathing. She wasn’t. So we stayed away.

We have a holistic approach to health care. So, we had her on liquid silver and zinc, and vitamins A, B, C, and D. I felt like a pill pusher…

On Friday morning, my husband and I anointed her and prayed for healing. During prayer, the Lord gave me a picture of Alexandria as an infant in the NICU isolate. I remembered this day.

We received a call at 4:30 in the morning telling us our baby girl was in critical condition. She had pneumonia in both bronchial tubes within her chest. She was no longer breathing on her own.

When I got to the NICU, I saw my very sick baby girl. She was gray and still. The doctor gave her a drug to paralyze her so she would not fight the ventilator. We prayed for her and asked everyone we knew to pray for healing.

So, I as saw this picture in my mind, I felt as though the Lord reminded me He healed her then and He could heal her now.

Peace ran through my body, just as it had twenty-three years ago.

Monday morning Alexandria got up, feeling herself again. The fever was gone, the headache, aches and pains disappeared. She wanted to eat.

I am thankful for all the people who were praying for our daughter.

But, mostly, I am thankful for my Heavenly Father who knew her plight and never left her or our family.

My family is in quarantine for at least another week or two. The rest of us have no symptoms and I am praying it stays that way.

But my house seems small with five adults here ALL. DAY. LONG! Let me tell you.

I am thankful for friends who have dropped off groceries and hair color, too :).

Stay healthy and don’t give in to fear. It has no place in your home or life. Give it to Jesus and let Him send it to go back to the place it came from.

We have much to be thankful for. We have homes, food, and people who love and care about us.

What are you most thankful for during this time?

A Fight for My Babies

It was night, and I was in the middle of a forest when I saw him.

It was difficult to make out his features; I only saw darkness—evil. He had something in his arms. What was it? It was small but moving on its own. It was a baby! I knew it could not be his, and I feared he would harm it. As I walked closer to him, he ran.

I chased him for what seemed like hours in the humid night air. My heart pounded and my chest heaved, but I couldn’t stop until I had the baby. Not knowing what I would do once I caught up with him, I kept running. I prayed hard.

God needed to help me rescue the baby.

I don’t know why, but he stopped. Catching up to the man, I snatched the baby from him, although I can’t remember how. Then I just ran and ran with him on my heels. I ruined his plan, and he was angry. He chased me to exhaustion. Suddenly, I realized there was nowhere to go. I had come to a white fence too high to climb with the baby in my arms. With my back to the fence, I watched as the figure approach me—his arrogant eyes victorious. I didn’t know what to do.

I called out to Jesus; He was the only one who could rescue us.

As the evil one stood before me, trying to pluck the child out of my arms, I could only whisper the name of Jesus. I realized this man hated that Name. Although it was dark, I could see his body recoil. It made me brave. I shouted Jesus’ name with everything I had.

The Name terrified him and he ran as I pursued him, yelling Jesus’ name. I watched until he was out of sight.

Then I woke up.

The next day, I got up feeling nauseous. Since my husband and I were trying to get pregnant, and I worked in a hospital lab, my coworkers gave me a pregnancy test. It was positive.

Little did I know how difficult this pregnancy would be.

At eight weeks, I passed some blood. I panicked. I was sure I had miscarried. As the doctor did an ultrasound, he discovered I had twins and explained I passed nothing more than an isolated clot.

But it continued to go downhill from there. The morning sickness was terrible. I couldn’t eat anything but ice and lost weight for the first fourteen weeks of my pregnancy. The headaches and migraines were awful, too.

I passed out one afternoon at work while on my way to the bathroom. That freaked out my coworkers. The doctor told me later my babies had pressed against my abdominal aorta and temporarily cut off blood flow to my brain. It was the last time that happened.

At twenty-seven weeks, my water broke on my way to work. The shuttle driver, who picked me up at an offsite parking lot, drove me straight to the emergency room.

He was more of a mess than I was.

The doctors and nurses seemed amused by the shuttle driver’s reaction because I looked full term. Once I explained I was twenty-seven weeks with twins, they sobered.

Fear overwhelmed me. I called my husband to tell him the bad news: our babies were coming too soon. They transferred me to a different hospital which was better equipped to handle premature births.

As they prepped me for a caesarian section, the nurse informed me my babies would only be a pound and a half each and would stay in the hospital until their due date, which was thirteen weeks away. I prayed they would be bigger than the nurse claimed.

After their birth, Alexandria and Matthew were each a little over two pounds. A nurse told me I must have been farther along than I thought. But I knew better. Doctors and nurses rushed to hook them up to ventilators, IV lines, and heart and respiratory monitors.

One day, two weeks later, my daughter developed pneumonia in both bronchial tubes. The phone call from the hospital, informing us our baby was in critical condition, woke us at four a.m. We prayed the rest of the morning for her. When I got to the NICU later, she looked as if she were dying. Alexandria’s skin was gray from a lack of oxygen, and the doctor gave her a drug paralyzing her to prevent her from fighting the ventilator. God was faithful, though. He healed her tiny body and before long; she was as feisty as ever.

Another time, Matthew had stopped breathing after the doctor removed him from the ventilator. As I watched the nurse bagging him—forcing air into his lungs, his tiny lifeless body refused to respond. She called the nearby doctor for help. I stood, wanting to scream for someone to help my baby. Instead, I prayed—begging God to save Matthew.

Suddenly, it felt as though someone’s hands were on my shoulders and I felt peace I cannot describe. I heard the Lord’s assurance Matthew would go home with me as I sat back down in my chair. My babies came home after ten weeks at the hospital.

Matthew and Alexandria are now almost twenty-four years old. Although they had difficulties at times, they are healthy and happy college graduates.

The baby in my dream represented the babies I did not know I was pregnant with. At the time of my nightmare, we did not have a fence, nor was it in our plans to have one.

My husband had a six-foot white fence installed after I gave birth.

I realized after a year or two, it was this enclosure I had seen in my dream. The woods behind our property is where it had taken place.

 The Lord gave me that vision to prepare me, not just for the battle my babies would go through to survive, but to show me He would be there as soon as I called His Name. He had already won the battle; all I needed was faith.

Matthew 21:22 ESV says, “And whatever you ask in prayer, you will receive if you have faith.”