The greatest mistake in treating an illness is the belief that the body can be cured without help from the soul.
Jan's father was chronically ill. He suffered a stroke in his 40's and spent the next 40 years in and out of hospitals, staying alive from pharmaceutical cocktails his doctor concocted. He wasn't a religious man, but his spirit was strong and he did not want to die.
One day last winter, Jan got a phone call. "Come say your good-byes, the end is here."
She and her brothers gathered around the bedside of their comatose father. Dr. Green explained— the kidneys shut down, the heart was weakened and he had tried every combination of drugs and treatment, all failed.
The family was camped out in the waiting area when a young man walked in. He asked if they would mind if he and his friends said prayers for the patient. They accepted his offer and watched as six strangers prayed while forming a human shawl protecting their father.
That night, he rallied. By the weekend he was back home, popping the pills that kept him going and remembering nothing of the bedside prayer vigil.
This part is the tilling of fallow ground.
The careful cultivation of the soil of my soul.
What feels like a crisis grows into crowning glory.
What looks like too much to bear
is really just enough to bear fruit.
You've brought me through so many things,
I sometimes forget the miracles You've already granted.
When I look at the field as it stands, it's disheartening.
Improve my vision so I see the crop
even before it breaks ground.
Bring my dreams to bear just as You farm the fields:
ripe, ready, and always right on time.