THE
FAITH
thought of it. I looked at him and said,
“Yes, thank you, Son.”
Deep down, I wasn’t expecting healing
OF A
from Patrick’s prayer. If it had been my
husband, my Sunday school teacher, or
5-YEAR-OLD
my pastor praying, yes, I would have had
faith for my healing. But this was my little
boy! His prayers were saying thanks for a
meal or, at bedtime, asking God to bless
everyone. After all, he was only 5 years old.
Patrick placed his
I wasn’t prepared for what happened next.
Patrick placed his small hand on mine
small hand on
and prayed, “Father, in the name of Jesus, I
mine and prayed,
ask that You heal my mother’s hand right
“Father, in the now.” Within minutes from the time he
name of Jesus, I
prayed, there was absolutely no pain in my
by Mary
ask that You heal
hand. The stripes that had been dark and
Elizabeth
my mother’s hand
growing were now diminishing. Within a
Faircloth right now.”
few moments, they were completely gone.
I was so grateful, yet so humbled. We
had taught Patrick how to pray and that
God hears and answers prayers; yet I, who
I
T WAS THURSDAY EVENING, the it would not be ruined, and then turned always believe, had doubted. I got down on
night before my son’s Valentine’s to find some help for my painful burn. I my knees and cried. Our sweet Lord showed
Day party at school. I had promised ran cold water on my left hand for a few me at that moment that the pure faith of
Patrick that I would bake a heart- minutes and then applied ice, and next my child had brought healing to my hand.
shaped chocolate cake for the party. I doctored my hand with aloe vera. This Oh Lord, I cried, forgive me for thinking
Patrick, like most 5-year-olds, loves to had been my cure for burns in the past. someone has to be superspiritual to achieve
help in the kitchen. He had been excited This burn, however, was different. The what Your Word says we have.
all afternoon at my promise of our bak- pain kept intensifying until I thought I As the days continued, I pondered
ing together. was going to pass out. I could not believe more and more the happenings of that
The whole day had been a mad rush this. I am not normally a weakling, but I night. I told my story at church and
for me, and baking a cake seemed more was facing severe nausea at the pain, and received tons of comments on how it
like an inconvenience than a pleasure. it was worsening by the moment. touched other people. In my heart, how-
On the other hand, I loved baking for My mind rushed to figure out what ever, I knew it was more. God was showing
Patrick and his class, and I certainly to do. How silly I would feel going to the me how often we judge others’ prayers by
wanted to make him happy. So I took a emergency room for a burn from baking their age, their experience, or their status.
deep breath and got started. a cake, but what else could I do? I consid- Jesus said to let the children come to
Patrick and I prepared the cake and ered calling my husband, who was work- Him “for of such is the kingdom of heav-
placed it in the oven. Now I had a little ing evenings as a manager at a high-end en” (Matthew 19:14). I see that scripture so
while to take care of other things that restaurant. Although I knew he would differently now. Before, I thought it only
needed to be done while waiting on the come immediately, I also knew this was meant that children could come and be
cake to bake. a big week at the restaurant, and leaving blessed because He loved them. Now I see
When the oven’s buzzer sounded, I would create a major problem for him. So it means they can carry His heart and His
rushed into the kitchen, placed the mitt being a big girl, I opted not to call. What power. Patrick had asked Jesus into his life
on my right hand, opened the oven was I to do? earlier in the year. He too was a believer.
door . . . and grabbed the oven rack with Patrick was sitting at the kitchen table Most of all, I believe God was show-
my left hand! I’m not sure how many watching me as tears streamed down ing me the power of pure faith. I should
seconds passed before the intense pain my face. Suddenly he said, “Momma, do ask God, believe His Word, and trust
signaled to my distracted brain that I was you want me to pray for your hand?” Of Him. He hears all who cry out to Him
using the wrong hand. I let out a scream. course—what was I thinking? My hus- from a pure heart.
I looked down and saw stripes across band and I were prayer warriors and had
my hand where I had clutched the rack. I taught our son to pray, yet in my distrac- Mary Elizabeth Faircloth lives in
used the right hand to get the cake out so tion, weariness, and pain, I hadn’t even Semmes, Alabama.
14 EVANGEL • FEB 2010
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