A time to ask

On the same day that we were given Victor's diagnosis of Bilateral Optic Nerve Hypoplasia (or Septo Optic Dysplasia), we also found out that Heidi Baker was scheduled to be in the area for a conference this past weekend.

Heidi Baker and her husband, Rolland, are missionaries in Mozambique and founders of Iris Ministries.  Heidi has also prayed over many who were once blind but who now see.  The question was asked, "Do you think you should try to get in to see her?"

But her conference was full.

So we tried the friend of a friend of a friend who was on the planning team.

And we found out earlier this week that the door was shut.

The question came back, "Do you think you should try another method?  Wait for her in the parking lot, perhaps?"

I prayed.  Oh, how I prayed.  And we fasted along with many friends and family members.  Fasting for Victor's sight, to grow closer to God, and for clarity in this situation.

Finally, the response came to me, "You have to ask."

Whether or not Victor ever sees doesn't matter to me.  I love him as he is, I know he is our son, and we will do whatever we need to do to give him the best chance at life.  But if we have not because we ask not, then I need to ask.  If we don't see miracles because we don't ask for them, then I need to ask.

So we went to the conference at the time we thought Heidi would be ending her talk.  We walked right in without a ticket.  And she had just gotten started.

(Father, forgive me for I have sinned - walking in without a ticket and all.  On the other hand, I'm certain Jesus never charged money when He was speaking to a crowd.  And to be honest, we did have a friend at home who had willingly offered to post bail if necessary.  Oh, and we did park in the "Reserved for the Worship Team" parking place.  I'm truly sorry.  On the other hand, I guess the event organizers can be thankful that our friends didn't cut a hole in the ceiling and let us down with ropes.)

We listened to her speak, and speak, and speak some more, and say she was about to wrap up, only to repeat that again 40 minutes later.  She spoke on compassion and joy and the Holy Spirit and evangelism.

And then the session was over and we did our best to push through the crowds, step over those slain in the spirit, only to get closer to Heidi.  We inched our way.  A man asked if he could pray over Victor.  He prayed that blind eyes would see.  We inched closer.  A woman carrying a baby asked if we wanted to get to Heidi.  She parted the way for us to inch closer.  Finally we were on one side of the podium; Heidi was on the other.  One of the event leaders came and asked us if we wanted Heidi to pray for our baby.  She then led Heidi right to us.

She sat down and she took Victor in her arms.  And my baby, who has a difficult time settling down, slept soundly in her arms for the next 15 or 20 minutes while she ignored the crowds to focus on us.  She reminded us that the same Jesus who healed the blind, loves our son and can heal him, too.  But she mostly spoke to us of adoption, and love, being forerunners, and bringing our story to many.  She held our hands and looked at us with love in her eyes.  She silently prayed.  Then she touched her finger to her lips and touched Victor's eyes.

Heidi Baker isn't the focus of our worship.  But she serves the same God we do, one who still does miracles today.  And she has the gift of healing.  We had to ask.

And Victor slept through the night, from that moment until 6:00 this morning.  That has never happened before.

This morning, a friend who works for the airlines had the privilege of checking Heidi Baker in at the airport and they talked about our precious Victor.

These are not coincidences; these are God moments.  Each and every one orchestrated by Someone bigger than all of us and all of our circumstances.  Each one a miracle in itself.

We have to ask.