I remember the first time I thought I might die. A foreign virus had me in a stranglehold. I was in an anguishing, fevery way—and that, a continent from home.
The summer I was 19 was the first time that I prayed,
“Lord, if you won’t heal me, please take me home.”
Haste makes waste. My ankle and me relearned that this week. My selfish hurry brought waste this week— of wealth, peace, health, and joy—to name a few. Never in a Hurry But the Lord is never in a hurry and forever on time, for he always has all things under control. That truth alone should…
Spoiler alert: My wound is not healed and I might mention blood. This post is not about scars and it’s not about surgery. It’s not about a dozen metaphors that raced to mind for very real emotional and spiritual wounds. It’s not about how sometimes our good God wounds, or even about his rich wounds….
Pain, Op & Post-Op This was a big week for me. A big week for me to give thanks. Because my pain got bad in July. Then an ultrasound found a huge mass. Surgery was scheduled for August 16th. I had a month to wait. A month to talk back to the little aches under…