Can you hear me now?

Almost nightly it's been stirred in me to write down this story.  It's a story from years ago, when I first became an RN.

While earning my degree, I went to school during the day and worked at a local hospital as a nurse intern in the evenings and on weekends.  I worked in the well-baby nursery and NICU assisting nurses and physicians with various things.  Sometimes I was an extra set of hands at an intense delivery, other times I refilled diapers and cleaned bassinets, always I was learning.  Finally I graduated and began the process of getting comfortable in the skin of this new title.  

One Sunday evening while driving to work I heard a voice.  I had never heard this voice before and I'm unsure if it would have been audible to anyone but me since I was alone in the car.  It sounded distant but very clear.  It began, in detail, describing a situation that I would be encountering that night at work.  It was precise and descriptive, informing me that there was going to be a mother there who will have lost a baby.  I was given words to tell her and the voice was gone.

What just happened?  I contemplated picking up the phone and calling someone just to have another person process this with me, but as I pulled into the parking lot I glanced at the clock and realized I only had 2 minutes left to clock in without being late.  I gave my head a quick little shake as if I was physically shedding the encounter like a dog does with water after a bath.

I scurried up the stairs, looked over my patient assignments, grabbed charts and took report.  The evening began like they all did, in a hustle, double checking the previous shifts work and mapping out a game plan for the 12 hours that lie ahead.  Several hours passed and my one sided conversation in the car was quickly forgotten. 

The evening crept on and began to slow down like most nights on night-shift.  I was walking around putting away charts and supplies when a labor and delivery nurse came in asking to borrow the NICU's camera.  Another nurse went and got it for her and asked her what she needed it for.  The labor and delivery nurse said, "I have a patient with a fetal demise."  Overhearing this I froze.  My charts hit the floor as the support of my hands collapsed beneath them.  All eyes turned to me and I began to get teary eyed.  My heart is racing even as I type this, just like it did that night. 

Had I heard from God?  Was I going to listen?  I had been a Christian for as long as I could remember but my faith was still very young, and to be used by God?!  Well that was just crazy!  I was nowhere near ready or equipped for that.

Not knowing what else to do I explained to the nurses in the room what had happened on my drive and I started to shake.  The labor nurse said, "Well you can come talk to her if you want, she's pretty nice."  She turned and walked away and that was all I knew about this mom and her situation.  She'd lost a baby and she's pretty nice.  What in the world was I supposed to do with that?

Many, certainly not all, losses we encountered at work were drug related, from physical abuse, or just improper prenatal care altogether.  What if this was a crack mom going through withdrawals?  If so, if not, it didn't matter.  Either way, what right did I have to go into a complete strangers hospital room at a time like this?  The mother, this family, is mourning, is hurting, is attempting to cope with the loss of a baby.  You don't just walk in and spew words, especially as awful as I am at verbalizing my thoughts.  I had no children of my own, how could I even begin to relate?  How dare me, was all I could think. 

The internal battle continued and I finally realized it had to have been God.  Why me though?  I'm not good at stuff like this.  Surely someone else around had a broad-band connection with God and the delivery of this "message" could be done much more smoothly than my sputtering dial-up.   I had never even shared the gospel or walked the Roman road with someone.  Then I realized that wasn't what was being asked of me at all.  He had given me the words already, I just had to obey. 

I exited the NICU and found the patients room number on the labor and delivery assignment board.  I walked slowly, the sound my shoes against the sterile tile seemed so loud.  I paused outside of her door.  Would a tossed bed pan meet me on the other side as soon as I began to speak?  I listened.  Silence.  I lightly knocked, if she didn't answer that was my free pass.  I held my breath. 

"Come in."
Oh no.....here we go.  I was starting to tremble. 
I walked in and introduced myself. 
She laid patiently in her bed, awaiting me to continue.
I couldn't shake the thought that a baby was born in here that never took it's first breath.
She looked peaceful, calm, but the red rims around her eyes spoke of the tears spilling moments ago.
The towel wrapped around her head, fresh from a shower,  made me wonder if she had been letting warm water pour onto her face to dull the pain or awake her from this nightmare. 
She was African-American and had full cheeks that I'm sure were beautiful when she smiled. 
She wasn't smiling.
I can't do this.
I have to do this.
The silence was thick and heavy, we just stared at each other.
I started to cry.
The words started spewing out fast.
"I'm not sure if you're a Christian or if you believe in God, but I am and I do and I'm pretty sure He spoke to me about you tonight."  I continued, "As I was driving to work He told me there was going to be a mom here that will have lost a baby."  I paused, recalling the words, "He wanted me to tell you that He has her and that this isn't for you to understand.  That part kept repeating, that this isn't for you to understand."  I finished, "That's all."  And I wiped my eyes, wanting to run and wanting to wait.

She started hysterically crying and before I knew it she was hugging me shouting praises to God.
"I have 3 other children at home and we haven't told them yet", she said.  "My husband and I have been praying all day for God to help us understand this so we would have something to tell our kids." 
I began sobbing, still clenched in her arms.
Both of our bodies shook with the tears and she pulled me back, looking me right in the eyes.
She just kept thanking me, "I have something to tell my kids now, and my whole church for that matter." 
I whispered thanks to God.
She was still crying but her smile, it was so big.  Her cheeks so cheerful and her eyes were so bright.  The air in the room was transformed.
I was transformed.
He used ME, little ol' insignificant, sinful, stubborn, selfish, prideful ME.

I told the story at church that Sunday.  I had never stood in front of people for that reason before but people needed to know.....God will use anyone that listens and if He only used perfect people nothing would ever get done.
What if I hadn't obeyed?
He never promised it would be comfortable but He did provide everything that was needed in that situation.
The common phrase, "He doesn't call the equipped, He equips the called", was so very true that night.
A hurting mother prayed to a comforting savior and God answered that specific prayer with the specific word she had been asking for. 
How incredible is that?!

After that experience I recalled several other situations where I had felt similar promptings.  None that specific, but in hindsight, God was speaking to me.  I didn't know how to recognize it but I learned, for me, it had been much more subtle than the voice of the great Oz, which for some reason I expected.

It wasn't fancy and I wasn't asked to sell everything I owned and move to a third world country to live my life.  He had a message for a mom, He just needed messenger.   I've learned many times that long before time had time, God has seen each moment, including that one. He saw a hurting mother in need of a word. He saw a nurse at work with a heart for the hurting. He put both in the same building on the same night so the second could encourage the first. Multiply that tiny event by billions, and behold the way God sustains His world if we do our part too.