Saturday Ramblins, Vol. 1, No. 11 (July 25, 1998)

In 1976, my best friend Ellen became a widow at the age of 45. Her husband had battled lung cancer for three years. At the end, from the hospice, she brought him home to die.

For three months Ellen struggled with her grief, quietly and alone. I suggested she and I go on a weekend retreat together, just to get away. It was something we had done many times before. She hesitated then finally agreed.

At the retreat center, after a welcome get together, we decided it had been a long day and retired to our room. As we lay in our adjoining beds the tension in the room was almost tangible. Ellen's pent-up grief seemed ready to explode. I was at a loss as to what to do to help her. In the dark, Ellen lay quietly in her bed, then I heard her sobbing softly.

What happened next was the Almighty's Hand at work. I put on my robe and then ordered her to put hers on too. I led her to the chapel. We knelt in a pew first but, something different seemed necessary, I pulled her to the tabernacle. I took one of her hands and placed it on the tabernacle, holding the other in mine.

"Dear Lord," I prayed, "I don't know what to do to help Ellie. She needs Your help. She feels lost and alone and so weighed down with grief that she cannot function as she should. Please, could you help her!"

It was a plea, a statement and, almost, a demand.

In an instant we felt His presence. It was an awesome, terrifying and wonderful feeling. I remembered thinking I must have held my breath the whole time. I could not, would not, move.

I looked at Ellen. She was looking up at the ceiling. I was afraid to move. When looked where she stared, I couldn't see a thing. Then it was over.

Back at our pew, I took a good look at Ellen. She had changed completely. Her face appeared serene and peaceful — the tension gone.

"Ellie, what happened, what were you looking up at the ceiling for?"

"Dianne, I am so happy and so relieved. It's okay — everything's okay."

She continued, "Something scalding hot came from the ceiling and it was burning my head. I thought the roof had been tarred and it was dripping on my head. It didn't hurt, but it was so hot, and then I felt the weight of everything being pulled from my body, up and out of me. The pain and grief are gone. Gone!"

We didn't know what she experienced with the scalding hotness on her head. We have since heard it called a "Baptism of Fire by the Holy Spirit."

It was an answer to prayer. This is not to say Ellen never cried again or was never sad again. But she was never again so weighed down with grief that it dominated her existence. In the years since, we have not forgotten that night and how the Lord sometimes answers prayers.

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