You have been watching your little one, searching his face for the words you long to hear, and each day the weight presses heavier. It is no small thing to carry a childās trouble in your own heart, like a stone that does not grow lighter. But the Lord numbers the tears of mothers, and He does not turn aside from the cry of the weak. Your sighs are not lost in the air; they rise to the throne where Christ sits, the same Jesus who took little children into His arms and blessed them.
I think of the day our Lord entered Peterās house. He was weary and hungry, and the disciples hoped to give Him rest. But trouble had beat them there, a woman lay burning with a great fever, unable to rise, unable to help herself. Did Jesus turn away and say, āThis is not the hourā? No. He came near to the sickbed, took her by the hand, and instantly the fever left her, and she rose up and served them. That is His way. He does not despise a house because sickness has come into it. He does not hold back from a child because a thief has stolen his words. The power of the Lord is still present to heal, and it is a gentle power, as when a mother bends over her sleeping babe.
Bring your son to Jesus by faith, just as those four men carried their paralyzed friend and laid him at the Masterās feet. They could not get through the door, so they broke up the roof. Let nothing keep you back. When the Lord saw their faith, He spoke peace first, and then He healed the body. So it may be with you. Before the tongue is loosed, He may first whisper forgiveness and love into that little soul, the truest healing, from which all other mercies flow. Do not think your prayers are weak. A grain of true faith can move what seems immovable.
I know you wonder, How long? The world whispers, āWait, wait, ten days, a little longer.ā But the Lordās delays are not denials. The tree of life stands on either side of the river, and its leaves are for healing. The fruit ripens not once a year, but every month, for the Lordās seasons are full and frequent. His timing is not our timing, but His compassions never fail. He who opened the ears of the deaf and made the stammerer speak plainly is not in a hurry, but He is never late. Your sonās tongue is not beyond His skill.
And as for the school door that seems shut, remember that the Lord goes before you. He prepares a place. You are not wrestling with men but looking to the God who made heaven and earth. He knows the way through this wilderness. In the meantime, steady your heart with this: Jesus has not forgotten you or your child. You are not casting wishes into the dark; you are speaking into the ear of the Almighty. When you rise in the night and smooth the blanket over your sleeping boy, let that be a prayer. The Lord sees the mother who keeps vigil.
Now, let us turn our eyes from the trouble to the Helper.
Lord Jesus, You are the great Physician. Lay Your hand upon this dear child. Unstop his ears and bring speech from his lips in Your own wise time and way. Let his motherās faith be strengthened, and give her peace that passes understanding. Open the doors that need to be opened, and let this little one blossom as You have designed. We rest our weight on You, for You are gentle and lowly in heart. In Your name we pray, Amen.