It's been an eventful Summer for my Middle-est.  First he won a man-sized belt buckle at the Rodeo for Mutton Busting (that's riding a sheep bareback, for you city folk,) then he asked Jesus into his heart, and just this week he survived a wasp attack.

Wednesday morning began early, as they all do, but this morning there was a certain electricity in the air, for the boys were going fishing!  Matt took our two oldest, along with our friend Chris and his five year old son Everett, and they headed to my Dad's boat dock.  They walked down the hill toward the lake, first Everett, then Brody, followed by Caleb and Chris, with Matt trailing a couple of minutes behind.  Everett took the lead, promising to stop before the dock.  

Almost to the water Caleb stopped suddenly with a scream, "A wasp!  I got stung by a wasp!'  Chris was calm, stepping forward to check on Caleb when he saw a swarm of angry wasps coming up from a nest, half uncovered by the path.  "Run!" he yelled to Caleb, and then to them all "Run!"  Caleb screamed a second time and then ran.  It was then Chris looked up to find Brody, paralyzed with fear and pain, a wasp sitting right between his eyes exacting his pound of flesh.  Chris threw down the poles, bait, and life jackets and rushed forward through the swarm, smacking the wasp off of Brody's face before lifting him up and bringing him partially up the hill to safety.  Then back he went again to retrieve his own son who watched on from a distance.  

Chris tucked Everett into his chest and ran back again, through the fray, and up the hill, where Matt had found Brody and taken him the rest of the way up.  It was then I got the call.  Matt hollered at me to bring the car down to get the boys, they'd been stung by wasps. I was out of the house before I had time to think.  I passed the gate to my dad's property, threw the Tahoe in reverse, then came down the dirt drive in a matter of seconds.  Matt was there with the crying boys.  Red welts had already formed.  

When we got home I placed them up on the countertops in the kitchen, gave them each a lollipop and started to tend their wounds.  Caleb got away with two on his legs, one on his arm; Brody had two on his face and one on each arm; Everett escaped unscathed; and Chris'  final count was 12.  I looked up to find him sitting at the kitchen table, with his wife slathering baking soda paste up and down his arms and legs.  My gratitude was instantaneous!  

We spent the rest of the afternoon inside.  The boys' emotional anxiety was as profound as their physical pain.  Every shadow, each smudge on a chair or wall, became a wasp.  Every sound, a wasp.  Every open door, an invitation for more fear.  And so we settled down for a late morning movie together.  Brody fell asleep for over four hours on our bed, and the rest of us spent the afternoon drawing pictures of the fish we would have caught had things not gone wrong.

The next day wasn't much better.  While the stings had lessened just a bit, the emotional strain was as evident as ever.  Brody and Everett especially showed deep scars.  And Brody's little cherub face was so swollen, making him look entirely different, I couldn't help but cry.   Last night as he finally gave in to a second night of Benadryl induced sleep, I took this picture of him.  His swollen forehead and chin gave him a neanderthal sort of look, even as he rested.  Again I thanked God for His protection over all of them.  The outcome could have been so much worse than it had been.  And as I prayed I moved from lifting up my thanks, to petitioning God for His healing touch.  I knew Brody would heal physically, Caleb was already back to normal, it was his heart that concerned me.  I prayed that peace and joy would return, breaking any chains fear was trying to shackle him with.

I sent the above photo out to some friends and heard back within moments from many who were already praying along the same vein - That Brody would not have long term scars emotionally from the attack.  He awoke this morning well rested, joyful, peaceful, and ready to go swimming.  He had been Covered In Prayers!  And they worked!

O, he still looked rather neanderthal-esque today, and his stings still ached, but he was on the mend internally.  I am thankful to my friends for praying, and forever grateful we have a God who loves to answer us when we cry out to Him!

I wonder tonight, if prayer is as powerful as I say it is, why don't I pray more consistently for these little men of mine?  Of course I do pray... some.  But what if I truly prayed as though God's goodness and power were real?  How would I pray then?  For their physical safety, their emotional purity, their personal faith, their determination to do what is right and not be swayed by peers and their culture, their future wives, their character, their relationships with their father and me, their brotherly love for one another, protection from perverts and all who might want to take advantage of them... and the list goes on and on.  

Because of so many prayers lifted up on Brody's behalf last night, God let me glimpse this truth... Prayers Work!  Prayers Cover!   So let us Cover our children in prayer...