Earlier this year, my husband and I travelled from to do some teaching with local Christians. At lunchtime on 24th February 2018, I fell off the church’s 12" platform and fractured the top of my left arm in 5 places. I was very blessed to have a Healing Rooms team pray for me immediately.
We put off going to A&E, so that my husband could finish his teaching in the afternoon. Meanwhile, I lay in a darkened room. The pain was so bad that I felt nauseous and I couldn’t tolerate even light touch on my arm. I thanked God anyway, because I know that He works good in all things. But I did ask Him "What's the chink in my armour?" Amidst my multiple confessions, God helped me to remember that I had recently vowed to my friends that I would do whatever I could to ensure that I never went to hospital ever again. Well, this is a classic 'unholy vow', because I vowed to do it in my own strength and not God’s, so giving Satan an excellent opportunity to get his foot in the door.
Once I’d confessed this, an hour and a half after the accident something amazing happened: the fear, shock and trauma lifted off me and seemingly flew out the window. I rose up with joy, ate my beautifully prepared soup, drew back the curtains and then rejoined the conference. There I hugged and prayed with many people without inducing pain in the affected arm, even when they inadvertently squeezed and patted my arm.
To be honest, in those early days of my injury, my range of movements was severely limited but sleep was surprisingly good and each day I could do something I couldn’t do the day before. I was able to manage a couple of lovely meals out with our hosts before catching four trains home, even assisting and praying for a lady who tripped and fell on boarding the train.
By the time we got to a Walk-In Centre the evening of 26th February, the bruising was beginning to show substantially. They gave me a collar and cuff to encourage gravity to prevent foreshortening of the muscles at the top of my arm. At fracture clinic the next day, the doctor told me that I couldn't have done a worse job and that it was unlikely I'd ever be able to lift my arm above my head again. We told her that we believe in a God who heals. “Well, let’s see,” she said.
We had to go abroad on business the following week and, as we navigated crowded airports and planes, I realised that fear had started to return. So we attended the local Healing Rooms, where they prayed off fear, shock and trauma. The next day I was able to raise my arm above shoulder height and I haven’t looked back since. At the fracture clinic two-week check up, the doctor said prayer was working, because I was much more flexible than most people at the same stage. I might say here that nobody has ever called me flexible before! When I told the doctor that I’d recently done a four-mile walk, enjoying swinging my injured arm without the use of the collar and cuff, she gave her permission for me to stop wearing the arm support.
At the four-week physiotherapy appointment, I was asked: "What can you do?" I replied "It's quicker if I tell you what I can't do", promptly raising my arms above my head. "But can you put your arms behind your back?" "Easy!" I said, showing him. "That's amazing!" He said. "That's God!" I declared joyfully.
At the six-week fracture clinic appointment, the radiographer asked how far I was able to raise my arm for the X-Ray. "Really high actually!" "You're having us all on!" She laughed, when she saw me lift my arm right above my head. "God has healed me." I told her. "Now He needs to heal the whole world" she replied. "That's the plan!" I stated.
When I saw the doctor, I showed her the little bit of movement still lacking in raising my arm. "No, I believe you will be able to do it. Your progress is phenomenal. Most people at this stage can hardly lift above waist level. It's amazing what a positive attitude can do." "Actually, people prayed for me and the pain left. Healing comes quickly when there's no pain!" She nodded her head, shook my hand and discharged me from care.
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