The cold north wind whistled through the windows in our old wood framed house. Dad had the heat stove filled with wood to keep our little home just barely warm.
I could smell the coffee Mom had perking. It smelled ever so good but I was too young to drink the black brew. I pulled the blankets up tight around my neck and my little body shook with the chills from the fever. Everyone thought I had the flu virus that was making its round through the small brick school. Mom thought my cough was more serious and cautioned everyone to stay out of my bedroom. If Dad caught this he could be out of work for weeks and there would be no food in the house.
I turned my head from side to side keeping a close eye on the picture my grandmother had given me. It was a picture called “The Masterpiece” and was the perfect picture of Jesus at least to me. I gazed upon His dark hair and his captivating eyes. They seemed to speak to me assuring me He was watching over me. Just His picture was a comfort because I had sung the song “Jesus Loves Me” since I was two years old. My little heart believed every word and I placed my faith in this man.
It was a very long night and the cough kept me from sleeping. I heard Mom whisper to Dad that my fever was 105 degrees and that she was going to get cold towels. Then it was time for the aspirin tablets and another spoon of cough syrup. My frail body shook violently under the covers.
Again I looked at the picture turning my head away from my mother. I could hear the prayer she whispered softly asking God to please send angels to watch over me and to heal my tiny body. I was her only little girl and the tears ran down her cheeks gathering underneath her chin.
I remember thinking I was not going to last through the night if God did not answer Mom’s prayer. So to add some extra power to her prayer I silently told God I needed His help really badly. It was then I felt the bed covers press down as if Mom was sitting on the edge. I turned to see if she was still there but she had gone into the kitchen for more cold water and towels. There was no one visible in the room. I felt a cool breeze blow over my face and my ears began to hear soft singing coming from somewhere in the room. Who was singing a lullaby to me?
Sleep my little child for I am here beside thee.
Guardian angels I have placed all around your bed.
Softly comes a peaceful rest just look into my eyes and see.
Feel my hands gently caress your fevered head.
I have blessed you from your birth.
No demon from hell shall cause you sickness nor strife.
I Am the One whose words created this earth.
All through the night my hands are holding your life.
So sleep my precious little lamb.
Never worry and never fear.
My eyes never slumber nor do they sleep; I am the great I Am.
Death I have destroyed and it CANNOT enter here.
I took a deep breath and felt my body relax. Into His hands I placed my life without worry or fear. Jesus had sung me a lullaby just like Mama always did. The difference was His power stripped the pneumonia from my lungs with just a touch and a lullaby.
I have thought about this many times and often wondered why Jesus does not speak to others like He does to me. Perhaps they simply have never asked Him to do so.
Believe in Jesus Christ and you shall be saved.
Written by Sybil Shearin
All Rights Reserved
Signed copy of The Masterpiece by Bette Myers 1984 owned by Sybil Shearin