19 CELEBRATION

19 CELEBRATION

The chains of paralysis exploded away as Nita rocketed out over the end of her bed.

She landed on her knees with a thud, and her first sensation was the cold, hard tile floor beneath her. The divine warmth of the touch of her Lord had suddenly given way to this startling awakening. In the days to come she would realize that God had touched her so warmly only to thrust her into a ministry of fervent intercessory prayer in the cold real world.

Her knees had not been bent in over a year; now they were bent before her Jesus. Her hands, useless for so long, were now straightened, upraised, worshipping God. Her voice had been still; now her mouth began to fill with heavenly words, tumbling out in a bubbly fountain of praise. For the first time in her life, she was leading others in prayer.

Mrs. Edwards had felt the bed vibrating and opened her eyes. There before her, she saw Nita's withered left hand, the tiny one, spring to life. The mother watched, awestruck, as her crippled little girl grasped the bed covers and threw them off - then catapulted out of bed.

The doctor who was kneeling heard the rustling of linens and looked up to see Nita leaping past her.

Beryl had looked up at the same moment, and as Nita went by the secretary's eyes fell on Nita's oversized wristwatch. It was precisely 3:30.

The Great Physician was on time for His appointment.

Suzanne heard the action and opened her eyes. Nita was not in the bed. She glanced immediately to the foot of the bed, and saw her dropping to her knees with the momentum of her leap.

Dr. Sudo, sitting against the wall, heard Nita praying - something she had never heard her do. She looked at the bed and found it empty. There was Nita, kneeling at the foot of it, worshipping her Healer in glowing ecstacy.

The Buddhist nurse was in the habit of checking in on Nita every few minutes, regardless of who was visiting. She had peeked in twice since three o'clock, and each time found the prayer meeting in progress, with Nita looking comfortable in her bed.

When she stepped in again, she stopped in the doorway - furious. These lunatic Christians had lugged the poor cripple out and propped her up against the foot of her bed to pray!

Young Michaele came back to find Nita on her knees, and immediately he knew what had happened. He smacked his forehead, chagrined. She had asked him to be there, and he had failed.

Nita was not conscious of the others praying and worshipping God. She had tuned out this earthly realm a full ten minutes before, and was engulfed by the presence and the power of her Lord, the Almighty God.

Shortly after four, Colton suddenly jumped up.

"We've prayed long enough!" he declared smiling, his face wet with tears. "Now it's time to celebrate!"

Everyone stood - and Nita stood.

The room fell silent for a moment as the people absorbed the shock of what they were seeing. Now that Nita was healed, the rest of them were paralysed. Like Peter on the Mount of Transfiguration, they could not quite yet take in the miracle.

Mrs. Edwards blanched as Nita took her first step. Suzanne - even knowing what to expect - instinctively reached out to help her. Nita drew away. She felt the strength of ten tigers. She was ready to go jogging, to climb up the roof. She was fully empowered and ready to roar.

But her guests were still stunned. Nita stepped toward them, kissing each one in turn and mumbling the only verse of Scripture that came to her mind, "He is faithful that promised," the obscure little portion of Hebrews 10:23 that the King James Version relegates to parentheses.

"He is faithful that promised."

Nita's mother was dazed. She had never expected this.

"Mama," Nita whispered as she embraced her tearfully, "He is faithful that promised."

The Buddhist attendant was standing in the doorway, clutching the door frame as if she were about to faint. She was crying in quiet hysteria, unable to believe that she had just seen Nita stand up. She cried for forty minutes - immoveable. Nita slipped her arms around the woman she had never been able to touch, and then, ignoring the Buddhist standards of propriety, kissed her lightly on the cheek.

"Didn't I tell you my Jesus was going to heal me?"

The woman jumped. She had forgotten. She broke loose, pivoted, and charged back to her room.

Michaele took the opportunity to grab his dear friend and check out the Physician's work. Nita sat on the bed and let Michaele administer her first physical examination - putting each limb through its paces, giving her an impromptu vision test. Satisfied, the teenager began boxing with her merrily. Nita laughed with him. When they started arm wrestling, though, Suzanne intervened.

"Michaele, stop that!"

"What do you mean?" he asked, genuinely surprised. "God healed her! She can take it!"

And with childlike faith, he went back to boxing with her.

The match was cut short as the Buddhist attendant came to the door. She held the scrap of cardboard in her hands.

"What is written here?" she asked one of the doctors, still unable to fathom the miracle.

The doctor read the scrawled message aloud:

FRIDAY, FEBRUARY 11TH, 1977 3:30 P.M.

The attendant began weeping profusely, her eyes racing frantically.

"She told me!" the woman cried. "She told me! She told me several days ago! And today she made me get her slippers out! Now I know why!"

She ran out of the apartment, compelled to talk about what she had just seen. Up and down the street, from door to door, the electrified Buddhist woman declared the miracle - to neighbours, to passersby, to anyone who would listen - perhaps the first Buddhist evangelist.

Nita's mother was the next to leave the celebration. She hurried home to begin making phone calls and sending cables - contacting every person she had ever asked to pray, and announcing that the answer had come! First she would call Ted - if he had even arrived in London yet. And then there were Sonny, and Auntie Vivian, and Uncle Jay and Auntie Patty in Nigeria ...

Colton's older son Eran drove up, and as soon as Nita heard the car, her mental wheels began turning. To play a joke on him, she hid behind the door as he walked in. When she stepped into view, Eran shouted with fright. He thought she had finally died, and he was seeing her ghost. Everyone exploded in laughter.

Eventually the super-charged meeting broke up, as Colton's family and Beryl and the two doctors made their way home.

When Nita was left alone in the apartment, she began to walk . . . into the kitchen, around to the bathroom, into the foyer, back to the bedroom. Such a novelty - to walk! Her waist, terribly thin from months of weight loss, would not hold up her slacks. Even as she clutched them with one hand they sagged around her hips and hung about three inches too long. But she rolled them up and continued her happy pacing for hours. Like a newly hooked jogger, she must have covered ten miles that night within her small apartment.

As she went she filled the place with praise and thanksgiving, dwelling on the incredible goodness of her Lord. At times during the marathon walk, she stopped to sit down and examine her fingers or her toes in amazement. She pinched herself. She scratched. She touched household objects just for the thrill of feeling them. The sense of touch was like a new toy and Nita, the child, was inclined to wear its batteries all the way down on the first night.

Mrs. Edwards, having exhausted all the people she could possibly call or cable, hurried to her kitchen to fix up something special for her daughter. Soon she reappeared at Nita's door to drop off some food. Nita was touched by the sentiment as she opened the container - it was shrimp! With a flourish, she actually fed them to herself. It was a far cry from the last time she had eaten shrimp, when her mother had to put them in her mouth for her in the hospital.

And she wanted to indulge in one more temporal delight. Nita headed for the bathroom, locked herself in, and ran a hot bath. She played in the water with complete abandon, flapping at the soap suds and splashing like a happy baby, revelling in her newly-sensitive skin. They were luxurious moments, except for her nervous attendant pounding on the door every few minutes to make sure she was still healed and okay.

After lounging lazily in a hot tub, Nita went back to her bedroom and sat down in her visitor's chair. She had never sat in it before. It was a great improvement on the wheelchair! She picked up her Bible and opened it. For the first time in a long time, she could see clearly the words of Psalm 23, the words that had buoyed up her spirit from the beginning: "Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me."

She thumbed over to Isaiah 40. Here, too, she had found solace many times when the waiting seemed futile. But now, she had the promise in hand: "He giveth power to the faint; and to them that have no might he increaseth strength .. .

"But they that wait upon the Lord shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings as eagles; they shall run; and not be weary; and they shall walk, and not faint."

For so long, it had only been an elusive, haunting promise . . . now she was living on the fact side of faith.

Nita sat worshipping before the Lord for a long time before preparing for bed. It was thrilling to be able to do this for herself after being exposed and reexposed so many times. It was glorious to brush her own teeth, to plump her own pillow, and finally - after craving privacy for so long - to shut her door.

She sank into the cosiness of her bedsheets. Tonight, for the first time ever, this huge bed was a friendly place.

Later on, when people asked her if she was afraid to get back into that bed - afraid that she might wake up a cripple again the next morning - the question invariably surprised her. Her body was so full of energy that night, so vibrant with God's supernatural power, that the idea of a relapse never entered her mind. Instead she lay there, enveloped in the afterglow of the presence of her Lord.

She sang to Him softly in the darkness until she fell asleep. The song had been one of her favourites from her early days in the hospital.

How can I say thanks for the things you have done for me?

Things so undeserved, yet you give to prove your love for me.

The voices of a million angels could not express my gratitude;

All that I am and ever hope to be, I owe it all to thee.

To God be the glory; To God be the glory, To God be the glory For the things He has done.

With His blood He has saved me,

With His power he has raised me,

To God be the glory For the things He has done.

Just let me live my life,

Let it be pleasing Lord, to Thee; And should I gain any praise, Let it go to Calvary.

With His blood He has saved me,

With His power He has raised me.

To God be the glory For the things He has done!