I was blessed to be able to visit the Holy Land in 2014. A friend of mine, who works for the United Nations had been transferred to Jerusalem. Knowing my love for God, he invited me to come visit. I was so excited to go to Israel! I was so grateful to take the opportunity to travel overseas and explore!
When we got to his apartment, we were having conversation. We got onto the subject of God, of course, and I had said to him, “You get to ask for what you want. Your answer may or may not be what you expect, but you get to ask.” “I don’t believe that”, he said. “I think your destiny is set and that’s it!” … Me ~ “Well, God created us with a path set but many of us may not be on it. That’s why we get to ask.” “I don’t believe that!” he said. I smiled, “OK”
Through out the week, we visited many parts of Jerusalem. We also did a lot of hiking on the very rugged, stone terrain. On one particular hike, as we were coming down the mountain path, I jumped down onto a large rock. I felt a twinge in my left ankle, thought about how as a kid I used to sprain my ankle often, and continued down the mountain. We got to the car, ate some fresh watermelon we had brought, and continued on our journey to Soreq Caves.
Soreq Caves is a National Treasure in Isreal. It is also known as Avshalom Cave or Stalactite Cave, is a 5,000 m2 cave on the western side of Mt. Ye’ela, in the Judean hills of Israel. It was discovered by accident in May 1968 while quarrying with explosives. Soreq Cave is teeming with stalactites and natural sculptures formed by hundreds of thousands of years of mineral-rich water drops slowly leaving behind a rock residue.
We had a wonderful guided tour of the caves, following the set path and lagging behind to take pictures and marvel in the wonders of the mineral formations. It was a cool respite from the earlier hike up the rocky trails in the heat of the summer. This time, we were venturing deep down into the caverns. When the tour was over, we exited the caves and climbed up many sets of stone stair cases. Once back up to the main building and parking lot, we headed off to have some dinner and then went home.
Once we entered the apartment building, a couple of the residents stopped us, and asked him if he worked at the Consulate, and could he help them. I decided to go in and get my shower. We had a long day, and I was dirty with soil and sweat. It wasn’t until I got into the shower that my ankle started to REALLY hurt. By the time I reached for my towel, I couldn’t even put pressure on my foot. I had, indeed, sprained my ankle. We were supposed to go to another event that evening, but there was no way I could walk. I limped to the refrigerator and got some ice.
When he came in, I was laying in my room with my leg elevated and icing. “What’s wrong?” he said. “I sprained my ankle and won’t be able to go tonight. I can’t put any pressure on my foot.” He called our friend to see if she had crutches or a brace, and while I lay in my bed, I prayed. “God! Please heal me! You brought me to Jerusalem and if I can’t walk, I can’t do anything! I only have two more days! Please! Heal me!” I heard a voice whisper in my mind. “Have Scott lay hands on you and pray” Immediately, I thought, I’m not doing that. I continued whining… I mean, praying. “Please, Lord! Heal me! I only have two days left!”
AGAIN, I hear God speak “Have Scott lay hands on you and pray.” 
“OH, OK” I thought, still a little resistant. When I called Scott’s name, he came to my bedroom door, still speaking on the phone. Giving me the “hold on” look, he finished his call and came back. “I need you to do something for me…” I said, kind of gingerly. “You need me to massage your foot?” he asked. No, but something like that. He came in and I asked him to sit on my bed by my elevated, iced ankle. He sat down. OK. I removed the bag of ice and took his hand. Gently, I placed it on my ankle and said, “I need you to pray for me.” He stared, lol, not saying a word. Finally… “What do I say?” “Whatever you want.” He was still staring, probably thinking I was playing a joke on him. “Well, just tell God that I only have two days left and if I can’t walk, I can’t do anything. Or something like that.” I told him. He closed his eyes and within a few seconds “AMEN”…
“Thank you.” I said.
“I never pray.” He said quietly.
“Well, thank you.” He jumped up and said he would go to the pharmacy and see if he could find a brace. It was Saturday sundown, so all the stores would be opening again. In Israel, Sabbath starts Friday evening at sundown and finishes Saturday evening at Sundown. There are very few people on the streets, all the stores are closed and very limited traffic. I continued to pray, even as he prepared to leave. I was very emotional, with the pain, feeling like the events we had planned would now be hindered, him actually being willing to pray for me. I started to cry. You know how men get when women cry. He ran out the door.
An hour later, he returned. I think I had drifted off to sleep while crying, so I was startled when he came in. He looked flustered. “I’m so stressed out!” he said. “What happened?” I asked, feeling bad. “Traffic was crazy with everyone coming out and the first store I went to wasn’t opened, so I went to two more stores. But I found it!” he said as he victoriously held up the ankle brace. “Aww! I’m so sorry you went thru all that. Thank you so much!” I said … somehow thinking in the far, far recesses of my mind … that I could not tell him I wouldn’t be needing it.
To be continued . . .
