Had an interesting conversation this morning with a quadriplegic who has been confined to a wheelchair for 15+ years. Let me clarify that. She is totally paralyzed, cannot speak, can’t even move her head. Her eyes are all that move. But they speak volumes.

Denise wants to be able to walk and talk again. Desperately. When she get frustrated that she can’t, she cries. Perhaps “sobs” is a much better description. It’s the only sound she can make, sobbing. I’ve sat with her dozens of times, holding her hand, wanting to be able to do something, anything, to help. Seven years have passed since I first met her; with the exception of minor improvments — she can now slightly move some fingers — nothing has changed. She’s still in the wheelchair, still drools on herself, still suffers the indignity of wearing diapers, still has to be fed through a tube in her stomach.

Her birthday is tomorrow. She will be 60. She was wearing purple sunglasses today. Standing in the cold this morning, I kidded with her about misbehaving on the big six-o. She was snuggly, and warmly, strapped down in the car. She grinned and her eyes actually twinkled. I’ve never treated her like an invalid or that she wasn’t present. I’ve always treated her like a “real” person and she has always responded like one.

Her husband (who I’ve determined to be an angel in disguise — he quit his job after her stroke and has devoted himself to her 24-7 for over 15 years, tirelessly, dotingly, lovingly. Maybe I’ll tell you more about him someday) stopped by to pick up some items. In the course of conversation he told my wife that he’d been given a “prayer” that was supposed to bring healing to Denise. It’d had “something done to it” that was supposed to make it more powerful. My queen turned to me and said, “this is your moment — help Bob help Denise; they need real prayer!”

Talk about being put on the spot!

I jotted down a couple of passages that deal with healing and gave it to him. He wanted to know how “to do it,” with “it” being to use the passages. I asked him if he wasn’t a Christian. He responded that he was “supposed to be a Baptist.” I intrepreted that to be an affirmative. “Simply read these as a request to the Lord. Just say, ‘Lord, I want this.'”

“But, Denise can’t speak.”

“She doesn’t have to,” I replied.

He looked quite perplexed. So I went straight to Denise out in the car.

“Denise, I want you to read these.” She did. “Did you understand them?” She did. “I want you to talk to God with your thoughts and repeat these as a way of expressing your desire for healing. Tell Him you want this. Can you do that?” The eyes said, “Absolutely!”

Bob: “Humph! And we were making it so difficult. Who woulda thunk it was that simple?”

It was all I could do to not cry . . .