Mrs. Weathers had a double lung transplant about four years ago. Her body rejected those lungs, but God kept her here for four more years. During those four years, she worked endlessly in our bus ministry and where ever else she might be needed.
She began to develop cancer and, on more than one occasion, came into church with patches on her face and around her eyes where they had cut out cancer. Like our Pastor said tonight, sometimes it was so bad, that most women would be more apt to stay at home and not want to come out in public. But she just had to be at bus ministry or sitting on the front pew of the church. She loved the Lord so much and just couldn't get enough of Him, His WORD, and the fellowship of His people.
The music was just like what we always sing in church. The preaching was just like what we always hear. And the Spirit of God moved in. At the close of the service, Pastor gave an invitation, as requested by Mrs. Weathers, and her oldest son gave his heart to Christ. There were shouts of praise ringing out across the church between our tears and as I looked at Mrs. Weather's four children sitting on the same pew their mother was so faithful to be in, I realized that a mother's prayer for her children was answered and all her children were in.
I have walked and knelt in every room of the house; I have fondled the
old Book, sat quietly at the kitchen table and been hurled around the world to
follow a boy who went to war. I have sought through hospitals and army
camps and battlefields. I have dogged the steps of sons and daughters in
college and university, in the big city looking for a job. I have been in
strange places, for I have even gone down into honky-tonks and dens of sin, into
nightclubs and saloons and back alleys and along dark streets. I have
ridden in automobiles and planes and ships seeking and sheltering and guiding
and reminding and tugging and pulling toward home and Heaven.
I have filled pantries with provision when the earthly provider was
gone. I have sung songs in the night when there was nothing to sing about
but the faithfulness of God. I have been pressed so close to the promises
of the WORD that the imprint of their truth is fragrant about me. I have
lingered on the lips of the dying like a trembling melody echoed from
Heaven.
I am not unanswered, although Mother may be gone, although the home may
be dissolved into dust, although the little marker in the graveyard grows
dim. I am still here: and as long as God is God, and truth is truth, and
the promises of God are 'yea and amen,' I will continue to woo and win and
strive and plead with boys and girls whose mothers are in Glory, but whose
ambassador I have been appointed by the King Emmanuel. For I am.........a
mother's prayer.
