We had been separated for three months. This weekend was to determine our next course of action. We had to decide either to get back together as husband and wife or to go our separate ways in a divorce. Twenty years of marriage to an alcoholic had finally taken their toll.

I was smoking more, eating less, sleeping less, and taking tranquilizers. I knew I was headed for a nervous breakdown. It's not that we hadn't tried to save our marriage. We had been to a Christian marriage counselor to try to talk things out. Talking to a psychiatrist didn't help either. We had been separated many times before when things got too bad to stay together. There seemed to be no way out of this nightmare of fear, anger, bitterness, and turmoil.

On my way home one Friday evening, I stopped by a friend's house hoping to visit with her. She was home and I was glad to see a friendly face. As soon as I began talking to her, I started crying. She told me she was on her way to a prayer service and invited me to go with her. I said, "It can't hurt."

We were late, so the service had already started. I looked around and recognized a few people I knew, but the rest were strangers. The songs they were singing weren't the church hymns I knew. The people seemed happy and clapped their hands. I remember thinking, "How can they be so happy when I am so sad?" As the service continued, they prayed for a man in a wheelchair. One woman knelt and placed her hands on his knee. The others also laid their hands on him and prayed out loud. Some lifted their hands as they prayed, and I could see joy on their faces. I watched the woman kneeling on the floor. She looked so beautiful and was praying in such a beautiful language.

My friend introduced me to the group and said I wanted prayer. She didn't mention my family situation and neither did I. Everyone gathered around me and placed their hands on my arms, shoulders, and back. Trying to be polite, I bowed my head and closed my eyes. I didn't understand what they were saying, but I knew it was intense. During the prayer, a woman I didn't know told me, "Do not fear. I am with you, your husband, and your children." I wanted to see who it was, but I didn't dare look up. After the prayer, I looked for her, but she had already gone home. My friend drove me home and we talked about all that had happened at the service. She invited me to come to her church on Sunday, but I knew that the prayers that night had already started to change my life.

My mind was still reeling from the events of the prayer service when my husband arrived the next morning. I told him not to laugh and proceeded to tell him about the prayer service. After I finished, I told him I'd like to go to that church, and he asked if he could come along.

We walked into the church and were greeted with hugs, smiles, and handshakes. I felt a little uneasy. I had never felt so welcomed in a church. The pastor talked about being a whole person. "That's what I want to be — a whole person," I said to myself. When the service was over, we made plans to return on Wednesday evening. We went home and were talking — something we had not been able to do without getting angry with each other. I didn't realize until later that my husband was touching my arm and I didn't pull away.

Wednesday night in church, I noticed that there were children, youth, and adults, as well as a choir. This seemed to be everything we were looking for in a church. There was something for the whole family. The pastor gave an altar call for anyone who needed prayer. My husband grabbed my hand to go up to the altar with him. We knelt together. I didn't know how to pray or even what to pray for, so I remained kneeling in reverent silence. The pastor began to pray over me. He called my friend and another woman to stand behind me. I didn't know what he was saying, but I began to feel a sort of vacuum around my head — something like a halo. It became quite strong and, as the pastor lightly touched my head, I felt something like an electric shock shoot through my whole body. I started to fall backward. I tried to hold onto the altar, but couldn't. I tried to speak, but all I could do was groan.

One week after this happened, my husband and I held hands. The second week, we hugged. The third week, we kissed. The fourth week, we renewed our vows after twenty years of marriage.

I know God had to get my attention in order to save me from a lost eternity. I know how I felt and how hostile I was toward my husband. God forgave all my sins toward my husband and gave me love and eternal life through Jesus Christ, but I didn't know that until later. God changed my cold, hard heart into a heart of flesh. I know God is real and no one can convince me otherwise, because of the change God made in my life.

Discussion Questions

• When have you experienced unconditional love and the power of prayer?
• What obstacles do you believe were placed in your life to awaken your spirit?
• When has God healed your brokenness?
• When have you experienced renewal?

Scripture

Acts 2:4
Isaiah 58:8-9, 11-12

Prayers

Opening
Welcome again to this place. Let it be a refuge from the push-and-pull, stresses, and anxiety of our daily lives. We come now to focus our energies and thoughts on another story of witness and healing from the Native American community. We pray for Lucy's continued healing and thank her for this gift to us.
Through your Holy Name we pray. Amen.

Closing Prayer
Creating and sustaining God, how we long to be healed and to have a good relationship restored. And how we celebrate with those healed and restored to a good relationship with family and God. We reach out to you, Creator God, seeking healing and restoration. We also seek to be open to your healing grace. We want to take that healing grace to those we meet in our daily lives. Through your son Jesus Christ we pray. Amen.

Lucy Tonemah is a Seneca born on the Cattaraugus Indian Reservation in Gowanda, New York, transplanted to Apache, Oklahoma. She is a member of United Methodist Church of Apache, Oklahoma Indian Missionary Conference.