It’s the end of August 2023. The season is slightly beginning to nudge at the knock of autumn. The rain has finally started to break through the clouds after a long summer of drought. I’m sitting down, wrapped in my robe, feeling revived to be able to type again. Just like the sky, I’m allowing myself to pour out onto the page what has been welling up inside of me. It has been eight years, seven months and thirteen days that Terry and I have been dreaming and longing to be expecting. Yet, here we are still… expecting. Expecting the fruition of miracles, the accumulation of tears in heaven and the final word of our God to come through and rain down. I often catch myself reflecting on our vacant voyage with the thoughts and questions of “How did we get here?”, “How much longer?”, and “Will I too get to experience ‘the’ miracle as so many of my TTC sisters have had the gift to?”
So the seasons have shifted. The days have turned into months and the months have grown into years. And somehow, we have found ourselves in an eight year wait (and seven months and thirteen days… but who’s counting?!). During this latest year of believing and longing for pregnancy that the Lord has permitted me to walk through, I had the opportunity back in March to attend a healing and charismatic conference hosted by my dear friend Fr. Joshua Johnson at Sacred Heart Catholic Church in Baton Rouge. He partnered with the beautiful ministry The Mission on the Mountain founded and led by Kevin McCall and Anne Trufant. Together, they exemplified our faith in action and enabled the Body of Christ to do just the same. Furthermore, just as the apostles, who are now saints in heaven, were handed over the Keys of the Kingdom (Matthew 16:19), which is the authority given to us by Christ through the power and gift of the Holy Spirit, we were able to actively participate in the ministry of Jesus Christ: healing the sick, casting out demons and raising the dead! The ministry of Jesus Christ is totally and without a doubt my jam!
During my time at the conference, I was able to lay hands on several attendees to pray for what ailed them. Through prayer and asking the Lord to reveal to me words of knowledge, I was given two visions:
I saw myself as Hannah in the midst of the conference, who went to kneel and plead before the temple. (I attributed this vision not only to myself but other women with the same intention, too.)
I saw the word “esophagus” and a scratchy throat.
After sharing my words of knowledge among the congregation, I had the humble opportunity to pray for seven different women. Miraculously, several of them received healing on the spot. It left me in complete awe and wonder of our God! Nevertheless, I attended this beautiful conference with my own deepest desires and longings. I, too, was in need of healing and to be heard by the Lord. Just like Hannah.
It was Saturday night and I had just had the incredible opportunity to pray over others. The conference was quickly coming to an end, and because the Lord had called me to help be His hands and feet, my opportunity to receive my own prayer was slowly coming to an end. I stood in line and patiently waited for what I knew the Lord was about to do. Jesus taught and instilled ministry into his disciples. Heaven partners with us, His creation, to do what only He can do. By the power of the Holy Spirit, we, the Church, are called to be His hands and feet. I stood in line like the woman with the issue of blood: reaching. A few days before the conference, I had attended a doctor’s appointment. I had just started back on hormonal therapy to aid the premature ovarian failure diagnosis I had received years prior. I had taken a year and a half’s break from the patches and pills but had recently decided to get back on HRT. However, it had been a couple months back on the regimen, and I wasn’t really having a period. I was growing concerned because this was odd and significantly different to my cycles before. At the time of the conference, I was supposed to be menstruating, but the little spotting that I did have had stopped.
I was next in line. A woman in front of me was getting her intentions prayed over. I was almost there. A reach away! Then the lights turned off, and the conference officially came to an end. My spirit broke. “But Lord, I was almost there…”. My mom, my dear friend, and I exited the church and started walking to our car. What else was I to do? It was over. Maybe there would be another appointed time. However, the anointed vessel and guest speaker who was praying for attendees rounded the corner of the church to finish praying over the lady who had been in front of me. He turned to me and told me that I was going to receive prayer next. In his words, “I’m tired, but we all are tired. I’m here to pray!”
We were in front of the cathedral. It was nearing midnight. The air was crisp, I could see my breath. I was in need of physical healing within my womb. Eight years of praying, of tears, of mourning, and of believing. Holy Spirit, please come! The lady who was receiving prayer in front of me gave the disciple of Christ a hug and walked to her car. He then turned to me and invited me forward. As I approached him, the Holy Spirit whispered to me, “I am never late”. I replied to Him, in tears, “You remembered me”. The man of God asked me what I was in need of prayer for. I shared with him briefly my story, my longing for healing in my ovaries and my desire for pregnancy and children. He then spoke words of life over me, he professed the love of the Father and my identity as His precious daughter to me and then he declared total healing from the inside out of me. I sobbed and I wept. Oh, the Glory of God that surrounded me! The prayer ended. I thanked him with humility. I hugged him. And then we parted ways. The words that the Holy Spirit spoke to me echoed again and again: “I am never late”.
The next morning, I woke up to painful cramps. And there was blood. Tears ran down my face. I was in complete awe of Jesus. I picked up the phone and called those who were nearest to me. All I could express was that, “I am healed! I am healed!” The Lord did grant me healing that night. He revealed Himself in the sweetest and gentlest of ways. He gave me the gift to partner with Him so that He may touch the lives of His children. And then, He remembered me, too.
Since then, I have had a period every month. What my doctor said could take a year to retrieve again on HRT, He brought back that night. The mystery of this faith is trusting and believing that He will always be my Father, my friend and my judge. Although I have yet to bear witness to a pregnancy within my womb. I understand and hold on tight that He is never late. And my dear sister, He is perfectly on time for you, too.