Saturday, March 24, 2018


July 20, 2010 by  
Filed under Monthly Articles

His frail form weakened from the disease that has been ravaging his little body since birth, he lay still on the bed, barely able to move.

He’s seven years old and the fever had reached a hundred and four and climbing.

It’s late into the night and the only means left to subdue the fever is to use grandma’s remedy of soaking his little feet in vinegar and wrap his body in cold wet towels.

“Mommy, am I going to die? Will you hold my hand? “

Kneeling by his side she began to pray and plead on his behalf, as she has been doing for years now. “Lord, you gave me this little boy, thank you for entrusting me with his care. For seven years he’s been my little hero and now this fever is taking its toll. There isn’t anything else I can do to combat his fever, and unless you do something he is going to die. Did You give him to me and equip me only to take him away now?”

“Let the children come unto Me and forbid them not for such is the kingdom of God.”


“Yes dear.”

“I want to go home.”

Thinking him delirious she said, “You are home sweetheart”.

“No mommy, I want to go home to heaven. I want to be with Jesus.”

Listen to me little one
Don’t be afraid now
Don’t start to cry
I’m right here by your side
I won’t ever leave you
I won’t say goodbye
Hold on to my hand
Hold on to it tight
I’ll paint you the picture
I’ll teach you to fly

If I…could ease your pain
I’d take your place I’d feel your pain
And you’d be free, yes you’ll be free
You’d laugh again play hide and seek

But as you lay my little one
Don’t be afraid don’t start to cry
The wings that I paint
Will soon give you flight
You want to leave now to say goodbye
But you’re much too young
To take flight just yet
Your wings aren’t ready
And my heart will break

Don’t go little one
You’re much much too young
Don’t go just yet, but if you must
I’ll give you the speed
That you need to gain
You’re much much too young
But you’ll feel no more pain

In sweet surrender, she held his hand until he fell asleep. She rested her head on his bed until she too fell asleep. It wasn’t until the first ray of light peered through his window when she realized that weeping endures for the night, but joy comes in the morning.

Good morning mommy.

I am Despina (but everyone calls me Debi) daughter of the Most High God. I am the wife of one man, mother and caretaker to a son with Duchenne Muscular Dystrophy, homemaker, chef, avid reader, artist, poet and a gracious host. Life has presented me with a great deal of challenges which were resented at first, tolerated at best and welcomed later, knowing they will eventually be the exact things that would mould me into God’s image. Someone once said “the school of suffering produces rare scholars.” Perhaps, one day I shall attain such title.

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One Response to “Surrender”
  1. Marilyn says:

    To Debi, Author of the story “Surrender”:
    Just want to say that you ARE a scholar as evidenced by your ability to write this story. Thank you for sharing your thoughts with us.