Recalling from memory, very, very early one Sunday morning. Bidding my husband goodbye, and running hurridly to kiss my sleeping three young children, before leaving the house. To go to early morning prayer meeting at the Church, which is about thirteen miles away from home. At the prayer meeting, there was an exceptionally warm atmosphere of fellowship and love. The Elderly sisters especially were for some reason, encouraging me to continue to pray and to be faithful to God. The Leader of the Prayer Meeting actually got up, in the presence of everyone present, and said these words. " Sister Margaret, no matter how rough it gets, keep on praying. Believe what God says in His word. " Prayer meeting had now ended, and I was feeling like I was on  top of  the world. Driving my car home, I gave two people a ride into town. While dropping these people off, in the middle of chatting with them. Suddenly it seemed to come from nowhere ( so to speak ). A forceful blow hit me in the pit of my stomach, and immediately I knew that something had just gone terribly wrong at home. Very quickly I left, and drove my car full speed ahead to get home, however, even with the accelerated speed it felt as if the car was not going fast enough. For the urgency that I felt to get home.

As I pulled the car int the driveway, my oldest son who was about seven years of age at the time. He looked at me so solomenly, and said very sadly " Mommy my brother is dead. " Apparently as I felt that blow the scene began unfolding. My husband had just finished praying with the children. They were hugging one another and the three children were playing, and jumping up in the bed as children do. Suddenly the youngest son began to have severe convulsions, with lots of foaming from the mouth. He then fell onto the bed and lay there in an unconcious  state. He seemed to have lost, so much water from his little body. Instantantaneously out of my mouth came these words, " He is not dead. " With tears in my eyes, I looked at my son and felt the weariness of having to call 911. For he had these convulsons often, but never of this magnitude. I was so weary of the feelings of helplessness. Just then I remembered the words of the Prayer Leader, to believe the promises of God, and to pray His word. I picked up my son and held his lifeless little body in my arms. My heart ached with each step I took, carrying him to the garage and laying him gently down, onto the blue couch that he loved to sit in. He lay there lifeless, with his eyes starring as glass.

Instantly I began to cry aloud to God to spare my son's life, and to divinely heal him of his affliction. I felt like Rachel weeping for her children. I refused to stop travailing, until my son was healed. Standing firm on the promise of God, that my son would not die, but that he will live to declare the works of the Lord. Yes I laid out on that garage floor, and travailed getting up many times to walk the floor, reminding God of His promise. Hours had passed and I was still in travail. Then suddenly  breakthrough came, my son regained consciousness, there was healing in his eyes. He stood up, he was completely healed and delivered. My husband and my other children were all in tears, we hugged him all at once. That day was not only a great day of rejoicing. It was the day that I proved that the miracle of Easter is real, and that Jesus Christ did triumphantly arise from the tomb. He is no longer in the grave, halleulah He is alive!

I knew in my heart that day, that God my Father would bring healing to my other children in His own divine timing. May you too experience the miracle of Easter, and continually celebrate the Resurrection of the Lord Jesus Christ, by allowing Him to be Lord of your daily life!!