I'm finding the only way I can write these days is in my novel. I journal, and send the odd random text or email to a friend, but whenever I try to write on the blog, I come up short. I end up staring at a blank page for a long time, wondering if I'll ever be able to find a way to say what I feel. Anyway, here's another bit of that novel I've been writing.
Wednesday, August 3
was the most bizarre feeling, as there had been no tests done to confirm that
there was anything wrong, and as I had just been to the doctor’s
that morning. There hadn’t been anything to indicate that anything was awry.
But as I lay in bed that night, I wept. I
begged God for this not to be the case, for Him to miraculously heal me. It was
the first time I’d ever prayed for healing, remembering how, in the Bible,
Jesus had healed the blind and the lame, the leper and raised the dead back to
life. In that moment, I hoped for no less for myself.
I felt Him say “no.”
rational brain tried to tell me I was crazy, but I knew. Not in that moment,
but soon after, I began to praise the One who gives, and takes away.
And He saw me…
that lonely July evening, He came and met with me. And He remained there… and
remains there still. His peace wrapped around me like a blanket on a cool
November night. These days are imprinted on my memory, as a reminder of the
Father’s faithfulness. Despite the loneliness that plagues me, there isn’t a
moment when I’m alone.
Who I was before, who I am now, the waiting,
and the knowing, it is a treasure to me, something more valuable then
He is here, close by my side, and there is
something beautiful in the knowledge that I am not walking this road alone.
I’m wondering if God’s timing, and His
revelation, has anything to do with a redemption for me? I’m wondering if it is
His way of bringing back the one He loves.