Hannah, our granddaughter, is 21 today. The words below are from the Postlude of my book, ON MY FAMILY WATCH. The ebook is available free to you during this COVID-19 crisis. Go to:
Scroll past the profile to the list of my books. ON MY FAMILY WATCH can be found there.
A short time before our third grandchild, Hannah, was to be born, Deborah’s blood pressure pushed the doctor to admit her and induce labor immediately. It was Easter weekend. We had a Sunrise service, a Sunday School seminar and a worship event scheduled. Carole has insisted on occupying the waiting room when her grandchildren were being born, so I drove to do the meeting alone. We thought Easter was a good day to give birth. You know—the day she came forth from the womb.
I called the hospital between Sunday School and church to chart progress. As I walked out of the church office, a man asked how Debi was doing. In my fogged state I said, “They are inducing pregnancy even as we speak.” He looked at me and said, “Oh, I think they are well past that.”
The organist hadn’t finished the postlude before I was in my vehicle on the four-hour trip to the hospital. The deal was, “Debi, I want the pushing, screaming, sweating over and a kid produced before I get back.” Well, it didn’t happen. The doctor said we were hours away. We decided I should go to the house, feed the cats, let the dogs out and take a nap. I’m not too great in the delivery room! I would rather opt out than pass out, so going to the house sounded like a good idea to me.
We prayed together before I left. Some weeks before, I felt instructed that we should talk to and about Hannah using her name. On that Easter afternoon, I prayed for Hannah’s journey through the birth canal. I spoke to her by name and told her she was going to be all right. It felt odd to pray like that.
When my chores were finished, I stretched out in the recliner and settled into a deep sleep. Suddenly, I was wide awake. An indescribable loneliness in my stomach had awakened me. I knew I was about to lose someone. I ran to the van, drove two blocks before the tears started to flow. I began to intercede for Hannah and Debi. I drove three or four miles before sobs and tears forced me to park. I prayed like a woman in travail. I applied the power of the blood of Jesus over the infant and mother. I denied Satan access to this child. I groaned and allowed Holy Spirit utterances that were more like moans. Perhaps a half-an-hour passed in prayer before the burden lifted. I drove on to the hospital feeling absolute victory and relief.
When I got to the hospital, I was informed there was a problem. They rushed Hannah to neo-natal ICU. She was premature, had come down the birth canal in the wrong position and was having a difficult time waking up. Several hours later, the specialist assured us Hannah would be fine. She awoke. She indeed came forth. We celebrated the victory! The constricting shell was not large enough. The emerging had been difficult. Breaking out of the shell usually is.
The Easter when she was four, Hannah told her mother that she was going to be a preacher, teacher and singer.
Palm Sunday 2020, Hannah is a junior at University of Kentucky majoring in music and math. Happy birthday, Hannah.
Carole and I are happiest being with children, grandchildren, nieces and nephews learning from them and listening to their insights and laughter.
(c)2020 D. Dean Benton—wonder, writer, witness, husband, father, grandfather