Ema McKinley - Rush of Heaven: One Womans Miraculous Encounter with Jesus

ZONDERVAN

Rush of Heaven

Copyright 2014 by Ema L. McKinley

ePub Edition September 2015: ISBN 978-0-310-33903-8

Requests for information should be addressed to:

Zondervan, 3900 Sparks Dr. SE, Grand Rapids, Michigan 49546

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

McKinley, Ema, 1946- author.

Rush of heaven / Ema McKinley ; with Cheryl Ricker.

pages. cm

Includes bibliographical references and index.

ISBN 978-0-310-33890-1 (hardcover : alk. paper)

1. McKinley, Ema, 1946- 2. Reflex sympathetic dystrophy Patients Religious life. 3. Healing Religious aspects Christianity. I. Ricker, Cheryl, author. II. Title.

BV4910.337.M35 2014

231.73092 dc23

[B]

2014016659

All Scripture quotations, unless otherwise indicated, are taken from The Holy Bible, New International Version, NIV. Copyright 1973, 1978, 1984, 2011 by Biblica, Inc. Used by permission. All rights reserved worldwide.

Some names and descriptive details have been changed.

Cheryl Ricker, In Tune, in A Friend in the Storm (Grand Rapids, MI: Zondervan, 2010).

Jesus Loves the Little Children, original lyrics by C. Herbert Woolston (1856 1927), music by George F. Root (1820 1895).

Any Internet addresses (websites, blogs, etc.) and telephone numbers in this book are offered as a resource. They are not intended in any way to be or imply an endorsement by Zondervan, nor does Zondervan vouch for the content of these sites and numbers for the life of this book.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, or any other except for brief quotations in printed reviews, without the prior permission of the publisher.

Published in association with the literary agency of WordServe Literary Group, Ltd., www.wordserveliterary.com

Cover design: Faceout Studio

Cover photo: Michael Lok / Getty Images

Interior design: Katherine Lloyd, The DESK

First Printing August 2014

For the One who understands pain beyond disfigurement

Contents

Whoever has my commands and keeps them is the one who loves me. The one who loves me will be loved by my Father, and I too will love them and show myself to them.

JOHN 14:21

December 24, 2011

The wind picked up, cutting into my skin like razor blades. I took one last look at the stars, and with my upper body hanging in its usual place, ninety degrees to the left of my wheelchair, I grabbed my wheel with my working hand and used my good foot to drag forward.

You can do it, baby.

I cranked open the oversized door, but my wheels got stuck on the threshold. Groaning, I tried again.

Its worth the extra independence, I told myself.

Every night after my caregivers went home, I unlatched my seat belt so I could move a bit and get a better grip on the wheel. Made it easier to try to pull this kind of stunt.

One last tug and my sixty-five-year-old body broke loose into the kitchen, smack into the smell of sloppy joes and ham. My caregiver had moved them from the slow cookers to the fridge before leaving, and in nineteen hours, the boys would be over to dig in after their Christmas Eve service.

I looked at my table with its place mats, plates, goblets, and candles. Everything sang Christmas. Each year I came up with a different theme and kept it hush until our big celebration. Until then, I wouldnt even let Jason, my forty-one-year-old, into the house.

I pulled my crooked body to the lighted archway in my living room so I could gaze at my Christmas tree with its gift-box ornaments and twinkling lights.

This birthday theme is for you, Jesus. Youre our honored guest.

Rest. I ached to enter it completely, but whenever I tried, pain cut into my deepest sleep. Bound to a wheelchair 24-7, I could at least close my eyes and dream.

Id told my sons, Youre going to have to work for your presents this year. Jeff, my thirty-eight-year-old, would have to sing for a friend down the street. Jason would phone a few relatives, and my grandsons would follow my clues. I smiled at my sneaky ways. This would be one Christmas wed never forget.

I took a deep breath and started down the hall, inch by inch, pull by pull. Wheeling into my office, Savannah welcomed me with a meow.

Cheery in here, isnt it, girl?

My collector dolls stood on the shelves close to the ceiling. We didnt get many Christmas gifts as farm kids, but everyone always pulled together to buy me a doll. These fancy ones had come from Jeff and Jason, and oh, how they kept the memories alive.

Parking under my desk, I flicked on my computer. I might be a tough old bird, but at least I could encourage people on Facebook. Excitedly, I scrolled to my latest post. December 17, 2011:

Matthew 1:23:

The virgin will conceive and give birth to a son, and they will call him Immanuel (which means God with us).

In the midst of this wonderful Christmas season, my friends, we must all remember that God is always with us wherever we are. Blessings to you!

What a promise. Immanuel... God with us. Lord Jesus, may everyone who reads this post find lasting hope in you.

What should I write next? Show me, Lord.

A verse from Matthew popped into my head: With God all things are possible. I liked it, but where was the reference? Scanning my room sideways, I spotted my Bible on my second desk. Id have to back up to grab it, but no big deal. I did it all the time.

Reaching for my wheel, I pushed off with my right foot while turning. But I must not have pulled back far enough, because my wheelchair caught on the side of my desk. Frustrated, I gave it another quick push and my right wheel came off the floor...

No !

My heart leaped as my body flew.

Pain exploded when the curve of my neck slammed the floor, crushing it against the bend. Fire shot through my spine.

My crooked foot got pinned somewhere behind my right leg, and my left arm lay trapped beneath me. All I could see of it was my big club fist, looking lifeless and useless in front of my face.

Fear gripped me. I couldnt move. Couldnt straighten my left leg. The slightest attempt spiked pain. The phone sat on my desk, but I couldnt reach it.

Help! It was no use. My neighbors in the townhome beside me were away for Christmas. My heart sank. Only one person could hear my gut-wrenching cries.

Jesus!

Surely, hed rescue me.

Savannah kept sticking her whiskery head in my face and leaving the room howling. Id never heard such a desperate cry from a cat.

Jesus, is this how youre going to take me home?

I tried to focus on heaven, but sickness bit into me. I thought Id experienced every level of pain, but I was wrong. So wrong.

Jesus, where are you? My helper, my Savior, my lifeline.

The words got stuck in my mouth. I could only keep screaming his name.

Jesus!

I imagined him taking those nails. Yielding to blow after blow. Every time I called, I knew he heard me. He had to. Hed listened to me all my life, even when nobody else did. Time after time, hed rescued me, and hed never stopped loving me. Even now, in my darkest hour, he wouldnt let me down.

The clock on my desk seemed to mock me. Thoughts of loved ones came and left. Who would find me? Who would call 911?

Hour sank into endless hour and the pain raged on. Trapped by my own body, I could only keep screaming his name. Over and over, I screamed it, from my raw, parched throat.