When the doctor said I needed an MRI, I panicked. I have severe claustrophobia. There was no way I could be trapped in a tube! My husband, Jeff, found a facility that had an open MRI machine. Even so, I wasn’t sure I could last the 25 minutes the test would take.
I lay down on the MRI table, heart hammering. I closed my eyes as I was rolled into the cylinder, then started praying.
For my grandson Ty, who had been sick and missed part of his school year. For my daughter Brooke, a teacher, who was dealing with a difficult student. For Jeff as he traveled to make a presentation. For the specific needs of each person in my beloved—and large—family.
Next thing I knew, the tech was saying, “Okay, you’re done.” I had not only made it through the MRI but felt God’s blessing on my loved ones.
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