What a joy it was when Michael Lee arrived on September 9, 1960! Thirteen-month-old Melissa and Michael were born at home under the care of a wonderful doctor and the Great Physician, who, through inspiration, had encouraged me to give birth in this manner.

There was tremendous disfavor toward home births in the 50s, and few doctors would assist the mothers in this desire. However, when the records were reviewed in the next decade, it was discovered that home births are safer than in the hospital, and many more turned to home birthing and midwife training. Hospitals began reviewing their approach to child birth and added birthing rooms in a homelike atmosphere. It was a wonderful change.¹

As I labored and God brought forth my first born son, I rejoiced that here was a promised servant of the Lord. I would put forth all my efforts to raise him to be righteous. His birth was a victory for me because early in the pregnancy I began showing signs of losing him, so I went to bed to gain strength. The Spirit gave me directions on how to especially care for myself so I could carry him to term. I asked the Lord why this child was special, and the answer came in a dream that this child would be a prophet for the Lord. I was so happy about this that I carried out the Spirit’s instruction to the letter. What I didn’t know at the time was that my female organs were cancerous and would cause me to lose more than one child—this fetus was in danger. And in obeying, I carried him to full term.

When Michael arrived I was filled with joy. Quickly it turned to apprehension. After the first day I noticed that his head didn’t pink up properly and every once in a while he would heave a sigh. I mentioned it to others who said I imagined it—that I was just nervous. I felt helpless, for I hadn’t recovered from childbirth and was still having pains. But I was concerned something was wrong.

Michael’s condition worsened and on the third day we called the doctor, ambulance and elders. The doctor arrived first but could do nothing; he needed to go to the hospital. Gene went downstairs to wait outside for the ambulance and elders, and I stayed beside Michael’s little body. We waited what seemed like an eternity, and then the angel passed by Gene, allowing him to discern the angel’s mission. It was the angel of death coming for Michael. Michael was going home. The ambulance and the elders arrived about the same time—too late. Gene led them upstairs, but didn’t tell me about the angel’s presence.

It was high noon when the elders were administering to Michael and the chimes on the old Stone Church began tolling the hymn God had given me to sing in times of need, and I knew He was asking me to trust Him again.  Never at any time before nor since, have I felt such total faith and trust in Jesus. I knew beyond a shadow of doubt that if God willed it, Michael could start breathing again, for I knew he was gone when I heard the music. That precious little boy just quietly slipped away with the angel.

 I listened for his cry with hope of his return, but nothing. The chimes continued to toll and I thought of the words, “Firm to the fight I stand”—the fight for life, sanity, peace, joy; a fight all of us have to face if we are to return home triumphant—a fight against the enemy of our souls that is so painful at times because we love and are loved. The promise of being able to face terror because God was at my right hand gave me hope, comfort, and courage to go on. I knew a Greater Wisdom than mine rules and overrules; and I gave Him the controls. Although I had peace in the storm, I still felt the fierce winds blowing against us.

God’s time clock is perfect—it doesn’t need repair. All things on His agenda fulfill at the scheduled time, and only He can shift events to accomplish His purpose in our lives. Michael was scheduled to go home. We lived a five-minute drive from the hospital, and less than that from the ambulance office, yet help didn’t arrive as it would be expected. The ambulance driver was taking a bath. When it’s time for things to happen, they do! This isn’t predestination, it’s events working in harmony with God’s Plan.

I know of three persons whose lives were extended, myself being one, and two cases where God cut them short to bless those people. His actions are always to help His children. God is our Father, and is continually creating and perfecting. Christ’s work is to bring the kingdom spotless to God again at the last day. We are made just to have joy abundantly. That’s what it’s all about down here—to choose who will be our Father. Will we rebel because we don’t understand, or will we submit—i.e., trust and obey? This will determine how much joy we’ll experience in eternity. I chose to trust and found hope.  

The River

 After Michael’s death I remembered a dream I'd had some time back but couldn’t understand it. I dreamed there were two young men standing on a river bank, one taller than the other. I sensed they were my sons. The current was flowing swiftly downstream. Suddenly the taller one was caught up in the water and swept away, and my second son remained alone on the shore.

Now I understood; now I could see God’s mercy and wisdom in giving it to me; now I knew God had foretold me He was taking Michael home, because in that dream there was nothing I could do to stop his falling into the river. And now I knew that God was sending me another son to comfort me.

Through years of frustration at receiving dreams and visions and not understanding them, when I complained about it to God, His reply was: “You understand them when you need to, don’t you?” And I have to say, “Amen” Speculation over their meaning is folly, brings confusion and distress. I learned to wait upon the Lord the hard way. How awful it would have been to have understood the dream when it was received--that I would give birth and he would die, and I wouldn't know when! God's dreams are given to bring us hope and comfort. It did.

Saints Need Each Other

Although I didn’t understand why these things were happening, I never rebelled against God because I loved Him, and I knew He loved me. I saw Jesus and He showed me that love. My trial was not to be one of learning faith and trust, mine would be a harder one for me—the Celestial test of loving those who say things about you that are not kind, and forgiving those who persecute you for your convictions—those within your own family and church who should be your loving support in times of pain and distress—those whom you think should know better and do better—your teachers and ministers.

Many years of frustration, sorrow, and struggling just to hang on to sanity would roll past before I would be able to do this. And during this time Satan was constantly hammering at me to walk away from such a faithless people who professed to believe, yet denied the power of Revelation—the very foundation on which our church was built. And many times I wanted to leave, but Jesus told me to take up my cross and follow Him—to cease complaining. He also faced rejection by those who should have known better. His own siblings rejected him until after His crucifixion.

I was forced to grow and as I look back I know my association with those whom I thought faithless was a great blessing for me, and I view them in love and humor. It must have been very difficult for them to see my struggling. Saints need each other. I needed them, and they needed me, whether they knew it or not. God was working in their lives too, trying to help them through their hurts—like diamonds rubbing together to polish each other.

When we see another struggling we should pray, keep our mouths shut, and open them only if we know God is moving the jawbone, lest we be working against God’s plan for that person’s eternal welfare, and maybe the many that person will eventually help because of having to pass through those rough waters.

Footnotes
1. “HOME BIRTHS ARE SAFER The safest place to have a baby is at home or in a clinic supervised by a midwife—not in a hospital under a doctor’s care! That’s the result of a study by the Royal College of Obstetricians in England and it’s causing a lot of red faces in medical circles. Published in the journal of the royal College of Medical Practitioners, the study says in the case of low risk births, twice as many babies die in hospitals than in homes, and in the case of high risk births, one-third more infants die in hospitals!” Weekly World News 11-19-85