Updated: Apr 27
By: Jessika Sanders
The pit in my stomach was unlike anything I had ever felt before. My heart raced. The tears poured from my eyes. I felt paralyzed, yet I was trembling. I was in complete shock. Like a stranger in my own home, I rummaged through our drawers to place some of our belongings in a bag. (Later I would come to find I had grabbed only deodorant and a Bible for myself.) I blindly threw on some layers and slipped my bare feet into my gray Converse.
Just one day old, my precious son lay quietly in the hands of the young medical professional standing in our bedroom. Everything around them was in chaos, but there she stood in the middle of it all—calm and unshaken. (And when I look back on it now I see the prophetic symbolism. Isn’t this exactly how it is with Jesus? He stands unshaken in the middle of our raging storm, holding us in His hands. What a beautiful, comforting reminder this is to me now.)
Rendered speechless in my panic, my husband was forced to make the call to 9-1-1. I listened as he calmly explained the situation, and gave important details including our address--something I seemed to have blanked on at the moment. It didn’t feel real, none of it did. This was so far from what we had ever envisioned that my brain just couldn’t seem to process any of it. Then I heard the ambulance approaching in the distance. This was happening.
What we must have looked like, my husband and I, standing there in our panic-stricken daze. He, a first-time father, me a mother of three--yet both so unprepared for this. I carefully lowered my still-recovering frame onto the gurney and reached for my precious little one. I took him in my arms and cradled him close—still speechless, still with a steady flow of tears pouring from my eyes as they wheeled us out the front door and into the ambulance.
I wanted so much to pray bold prayers for my baby. I wanted so much for God to hear my desperate cries. I wanted so much for God to do a miracle right then and there. But all I could muster were silent prayers within the depths of my soul.
On repeat, over and over again, were two simple words. Two simple words on the surface, but two words with infinite translations.
Translation: Come near.
Translation: How can this be happening?
Translation: Comfort us.
Translation: Protect my baby.
Translation: Heal my baby.
Translation: Calm our fears.
Translation: Give us peace.
Translation: You are in control.
Translation: Your will be done.
While I felt I was falling short in the most dire of circumstances because all I could muster were the words “Lord Jesus”, in actuality these two simple words were holy and of awesome power.
Romans 8:26 ESV tells us "Likewise the Spirit helps us in our weakness. For we do not know what to pray for as we ought, but the Spirit himself intercedes for us with groanings too deep for words."
These two simple words allowed the Holy Spirit to intercede. They gave me a direct line to the heavens. And as I repeated them over and over again in my absolute weakness, I felt His peace. Although I still felt the waves crashing violently, they began to lose their sound and effect. My eyes were focused on Jesus and I knew He was going to carry us through the storm.
Jessika Sanders is a published writer who has been featured in Proverbs 31 Ministries’Hope When Your Heart is Heavy devotional (2021), Focus on the Family’s Clubhouse Jr. magazine (2023), and Tyndale’s So God Made a Mother (2023). She is also the co-author of The Good Book Company's Little Ones to Him Belong (2024). You can also find her work here on the Praying Through blog and on her blog Jessika Sanders, Writer. Jessika is also the founder and acting president of Praying Through ministries.