'By the Grace of God go I'

How many times had I heard that expression in my Christian walk. That evening as Willie underwent invasive brain surgery I realised the enormity and truth of those words. I guess if I had no faith I wouldn't have been there, but it often strikes me at times of deep anxiety what do people do without God to trust in? Where do you turn? I am truly grateful that in my journey as a Christian God had
more than proved His existence to me during previous trials. I had already learnt to trust in His plan.
But when you are on the way to pray for a two year old to make it to his third birthday, surrounded by his mum and dad, close relatives and friends there is room for a little bit of 'arghhhhhhh ' to creep in.

Arriving at the hospital I was greeted downstairs by David, Zoe, Zoe's sister Helen, Willies grandparents on Davids side (sadly Zoe's mum was deceased and her dad too ill to travel) and some close friends that had come to support them through the anticipated ten hour operation. I suggested we went into the chapel in the hospital. I had already discovered this hidden treasure during the week. It wasn't a chapel rich in ornate features and stained glass windows but a fairly small rectangle room
plainly furnished with an altar one end, some pews and dusty bibles.

It was more what it represented...a haven of quietness and calm away from the hub-bub of the hospital. A place where you could be comfortable in praying aloud, bringing your heartfelt prayers
before Our Lord and Saviour.

We trooped inside, somberly and walked towards the altar. Holding hands I offered up prayers for their little boy, prayers that God would ensure the best possible outcome for Willie. Against all odds I prayed he would be unscathed by the operation - that Willie would emerge the same as he had been before he went under the anaesthetic. I prayed he would remain stable throughout the long operation and that The Lord would be with the gifted and talented surgeons as they worked on removing as much as the tumour as was physically possible...but as always ending with 'but Lord we trust in your ultimate will'.

As much as I did trust in His ultimate will for Willie, humanly speaking that was a tough call as I became acutely aware as the evening progressed that trusting in Gods Will was not going to be that
easy.

We left the chapel and I followed the small crowd to a wine bar round the corner. What do you do when your child is in surgery? To pass away one minute is excruciating ...to while away a few hours is almost unthinkable...can you concentrate enough to read, do you try and watch TV...talk with friends...this was before Facebook and access to internet so not even an eBay shopping spree to
distract you from the heart stopping thoughts of what might be happening in the operating theatre.

So for David, family and friends the wine bar to sustain them and to chat quietly was a good option.
Zoe dutifully followed although I sensed she would have rather been planted on a chair directly outside the operating theatre, silently, vigilantly waiting for any thread of news. This was obviously not allowed in the Radcliffe because I am very certain Zoe would have requested that very chair.

Sitting down at a long wooden table, rustic candlesticks, dimmed lighting and a menu to make you feel you were in the depths of France...I started to feel a little more relaxed and scanned for the tastiest choice.

Now I'm not sure whether the huge finger coming through the ceiling and pointing directly at me was a figment of my imagination (I'm sure there was a television advert at that time with a similar finger pointing at people) but certainly the voice I heard loud and clear in my heart I recognised. "You - you
are here to pray not eat!"

For those who know me well  you will understand how I might have felt having to leave behind an imminent meal, for those who do not know me at all - suffice to say it was a first for
me. To lay down the menu, ignoring all the tasty options and excusing myself from an impending feast...It had to be God that reminded me of my purpose there that night. I would not have left food for anyone else.

Walking back in the twilight, as time had moved on faster than you would have imagined, I stopped outside the main door of the Infirmary - next to the old brick built pond. I sat on the crumbling
wall...and watched the ants crawling through the grass and dusty soil beneath my feet. I felt overwhelmed with the burden of praying for this wee soul. I knew I wasn't alone as I had phoned a few friends to spread the word to pray without ceasing...which is what I should have been doing. I started to pray but realised the enormity of the situation was halting my prayers.

Instead of thinking of Willie I started to fear for myself! Selfish I know...but the realisation that should Willie not make it..all of those trusting in me to pray - might turn on me and focus their anger
and sadness at my inability to get it right. I know this May not make sense but I'm getting butterflies as I write this remembering the weight of responsibility as the main Christian called in for the job. Ouch. My prayers rapidly became selfish.."Please God I'm pleading with you don't let him die" - gone was my trust in God's will but replaced with an overriding fear of facing Zoe and David if their
son did not make it til tomorrow.

I felt uneasy, sad and scared...and I couldn't pray anymore. I took my small bible out of my bag and
turned randomly to the New Testament. I was reading from Matthew..."and they were healed"...next chapter..and "he was healed"..flicked over a couple of pages ..."and they were healed"..everything I read reminded me that Jesus can heal...it felt like God was showing me his word to encourage me. It was a Hallelujah moment, my faith restored to normal level and beyond and I continued praying fervently and with increased faith that Willie was going to be ok..I was no longer afraid...and I recalled those words - By the Grace of God go I...and now By the Grace of God I can stay and be strong 'In Him'.

The 'party' returned and I followed them into the hospital..along the long corridors and up into the small waiting room for parents - adjacent to the ward. It was small, just a few low synthetic padded chairs (I found comfortable with my short legs but not sure about the others), piles of magazines, a few books and I think a small tv.

Sitting amongst strangers, and some new friends of only a week old...waiting for a surgeon to arrive
is not your first choice of a place to be. Wanting time to fly past but fearing an early appearance from the surgeon ( indicating possible bad news) felt quite surreal. Luckily I am blessed with an ability to talk anytime any place any where...and I did. Lots...can't remember about what but we all bonded in that small room..finding out about each other, laughing and giggling...crying and weeping..hugging
and encouraging.  The hours slipped past helped by numerous coffees and some biscuits.

The moment came.

I recall my heart stopped beating as David McCauley popped his head round the door. The room fell silent...."Willies fine" ..'boom' I could feel my blood rushing back into my heart..and tears ran down my face..relief, gratitude to God...a heightened awareness of Jesus by my side, by Willies side.

Zoe and David invited me to join them in David McCauleys office. I felt honoured. Dr McCauley relayed the whole operation in layman terms..the words that stood out most above all others were the
words "Willie remained stable throughout the entire operation"

My Faith took another dive to an even greater depth...10 hours of open brain surgery and he remained stable in its entirety...and they had managed to remove a good fifty percent of the tumour which was more than they had anticipated before they began. The peace that passed through me that night
continued throughout Willies journey as I knew God was indeed on his case.

Willie had been transferred to John Radcliffe intensive care unit where Zoe and David could visit him in the morning...I got back in the car and headed south to Newbury...Praising God all the way home.