One Rubber Glove

My husband needed to get away.  Who could blame him?  He'd given up his country and his family to move to Canada for me.  He'd stayed for his son.  From time to time, he yearned to visit his family in Europe for an extended stay.  I had to let him go even though I wished he would have a change of heart.  He left that July.

Everything was fine for a short time, but after a couple of weeks, I noticed a weakness in my left elbow and wrist.  My cousin had been stricken with Multiple Sclerosis, so I imagined I might have the beginnings of the same illness.  Thus began my first experience with depression.

When I visited my doctor, I told her about my arm and confided,  "I've been feeling depressed and can't sleep. My husband went back to visit his family, so the depression has been more difficult without him here."  She prescribed sleeping medication.  Even with the pills, I would fall asleep for a few minutes, only to jerk awake, panic-stricken.  The lack of sleep began to take its toll.

School began in September...the teacher the students had always known to be fun-loving and 'high-spirited', had been 'spirited' away and replaced by one who cried and often had to leave the class.

My husband didn't seem to be in any great hurry to return...my arm grew weaker and weaker.  I couldn't lift it without extreme effort. The depression grew steadily worse.  In late October, I went back to the doctor who told me she would make me an appointment with a specialist.  Late November came and my husband, bless him, returned.  He was without work, but would begin teaching again in January.  Even though I was so relieved to have him back, the depression didn't lift.

In mid-December my nephew, who knew my situation, called.  "There's a man in town from Texas.  He's supposed to be a healer.  They say he's prayed for and helped a lot of people. Would you like him to pray for you?" I would have tried anything to feel normal again.  "Yes!"

The healer prayed over me, but much to my disappointment, nothing changed. "Do you pray?" he asked me.  "Um, well, not often."  "Can you pray in the spirit?" (see note at the bottom of the page) "I can, but I don't like to...it makes me feel uncomfortable."  "Do you read the Bible?"  Once again, I answered in the negative. "YOU ARE FAT AND LAZY IN THE SPIRIT!  Go home and pray in the spirit for at least forty-five minutes without stopping and then read your Bible," he commanded. At that point, if he'd told me to jump off the roof, I would have!  I was desperate....willing to try anything!  More than five months of heavy depression were more than enough for me!  I longed to be my optimistic self again.

Back home I went, sat in my father's old chair, and thought about praying.  I really didn't want to....but  suddenly my head fell back against the chair, and I started crying out to God in a language I didn't know...sputtering and sobbing....gasping for breath.  I don't know what I said, but I know what was in my heart...I was beseeching Him, begging for mercy.  I could not stop even if I wanted to...a force beyond me had taken over.  At least forty-five minutes passed. Finally the storm blew over.  I did as told, and picked up the Bible.  For the first time in months, I felt calm.

My duty done, I went to say goodnight to my husband.  As I was brushing my teeth, I looked in the mirror. My weak arm hung, almost completely useless at my side. Thinking back to the calm I had just experienced, I decided I would pray a bit more before I tried to sleep.  I got into bed, used my right hand to raise my left arm, lifted my right arm and arms raised, started to pray in the spirit once more.  Again, I cried out to Him in a tongue I didn't understand.  I prayed and sobbed....and after about 10 minutes, I felt it.  The tiniest of touches....soft as butterfly wings...4 or 5 sweet taps on my left arm, midway between my elbow and wrist.  I just had time to think, "What is that?"  That's when I heard it....a soft, male voice, gentle as the butterfly wing taps..."Your arm is healed."

My God....I heard a voice!  I threw my arm up into the air and shouted, "MY ARM! MY ARM!"  I ran to my husband shouting, "MY ARM!  I HEARD A VOICE!  HE HEALED ME!  HE HEALED ME!"  "What?  What are you talking about?  What happened?"  I explained what had taken place to my husband, laughing and praising God.  "He healed me!  My arm!  Look!"  I raised my arm over my head.  My husband who was trained in the Sciences and was, to all purposes, a sceptic, looked at me as though I had lost it!  

"How many years have we been together," I demanded...and then I answered my own question. "Twenty years!  And when was the last time I heard a voice?"  Again, I answered, "NEVER!  Do I lie to you?"  
"No," he admitted, "But why would God heal you when there are so many sick children in the world; children who are dying of hunger?"  
"I don't know, but He did!"

I left him there pondering my sudden seemingly lunatic behaviour and bounced back into the bedroom, praising God and giving thanks, so amazed and overwhelmed by this miracle.  Suddenly it  struck me.  I ran back to my husband and said, "I know why He healed me!  He knows I have a big mouth and will tell everyone about it!!" My wonderful husband still doubted.  Suddenly I was filled with knowledge.  I told him, "God loves us so much!  He loves YOU so much!  He is going to show YOU His love." I KNEW that He was going to do something special for my husband.  

God is our Father in heaven...those words we all know from the Bible had suddenly come to life for me. I KNEW at that moment that He really was my heavenly Father and that He loved me. They weren't just words in a book for me any longer....for the first time in my life, they were TRUE!

Two days later, my husband and I were back to the banalities of life and were discussing, of all things, our bathtub.  It was badly in need of painting, but to have a company come do it would cost at least three hundred dollars.  Since my husband hadn't worked for months, we thought it unwise to spend so much.  He suggested that we go to a store to look at the paraphernalia required to paint a bathtub.  He's very handy and thought he could do it himself.  We drove to a store and learned that because the paint fumes are toxic and can't be inhaled, we would need a gas mask. That in itself, cost more than $100. We then checked the cost of the paint and the brushes and the rubber gloves that we would need. It would still be an expensive endeavour.  He thought there might be an old gas mask at home somewhere and suggested that we go look for it.

We started off for home, my husband in the passenger seat.  After about two kilometres, I saw it there, in the middle of the road.  I pulled over to the side and said, "Quick!  Go get it!"  He jumped out of the car, grabbed it and ran back.  He was holding a brand-new, never-been-used GAS MASK!  I laughed.  "Is God amazing? Doesn't He have a great sense of humour?  When did you ever see a gas mask in the middle of the road?  That was for you...not for me.  He already had me!!!"  My husband, ever the sceptic, thought about it for several seconds and then said the six words that I'm sure God put in his mouth, "He didn't send the rubber gloves!"  I laughed, and started to drive again. After approximately three hundred metres, there it was in the middle of the road....ONE RUBBER GLOVE!

Romans 8:26-27

New Living Translation (NLT)

 ²⁶ And the Holy Spirit helps us in our weakness. For example, we don’t know what God wants us to pray for. But the Holy Spirit prays for us with groanings that cannot be expressed in words. ²⁷ And the Father who knows all hearts knows what the Spirit is saying, for the Spirit pleads for us believers in harmony with God’s own will.