I could feel it – but I didn’t want to “feel” it. I didn’t want to deal. I didn’t have time for it.
I was too busy living days of baby insanity –
coping with a screamer who didn’t know night from day or day from night,
that mom sometimes needs 5-minutes without high-pitched wails and
that spit-up is actually the worst kind of perfume.
Babies don’t get all that.
So, even though my legs were going numb and my vision was faltering, I ignored it. Even though it seemed I was wearing 3-D checkerboard glasses of black & white, I said, “Plug on! Mamma, ain’t got time for that.”
Pull, it together, body, you can do it. We have feedings, poopings and sleepings to handle.
But, as avoidance always does, it catches up; it grabs an just an inch of your leg and doesn’t let go. It always leaves you with the stark reality of all that is happening and a feeling that you won’t survive.
The words Multiple Sclerosis hit me like a freight train. I longed for those spaces of denial once again. Safe spaces. Known spaces. Comfortable spaces. But, I found myself in hated spaces – waiting rooms.
My waiting rooms turned into fearing rooms with cool magazines and no windows.
My waiting rooms turned into holding cells where worst-case dreams come true.
My waiting rooms turned into agony for ones who hate being hurt.
And, the thing about waiting rooms, is they don’t have to be windowless to trap you. They don’t have to be small to make you claustrophobic with the thought you will never breathe the same again.
I waited to be tested to see if I was going to spend a good part of my life in a wheelchair, to see if the face of my life would be forever changed and tested by God for who knows why.
I wanted to say, “I trust you,” but all I could mutter was “set me free.”
I wanted to say, “your will be done,” but all I could think was “change my situation.”
I wanted to say, “help all the other people with issues that sit around me,” but I could only whisper “get me out of this torture chamber.”
Aren’t we all stuck in a place of wait – in one way or another?
Waiting for a cure.
A pain to go away.
Deliverance from finances.
A Job Solution.
A legal issue.
An unreachable dream.
A let down.
We are all waiting.
Our waiting rooms can make us feel like an imposition, relying on a paper prescription, that keeps us focused on our affliction. Our waiting rooms seem to hold us captive by an assailant who says, “You will never come through. I will get you.” Our waiting rooms become fights against life, where we always become the projected loser.
What do you when everything is breaking?
When your very body can’t seem to deal with life?
For me, my screaming baby midnight hall walks, turned into screaming midnight baby prayer talks. I called from the depths of my heart for a “great fixing” of all that was wrong. So did my husband, so did countless others.
Sometimes, all you have left to do is pray.
And, sometimes, all you needed to do was pray.
Prayer opens the waiting room door to the Great Physician.
His healing work may not always bind up broken bodies,
but it is always binds up broken hearts.
His surgeries always work,
always bring newness, always surface peace.
His work turns fearing rooms into hoping rooms –
because he clears new room for love.
There is no fear in love. But perfect love drives out fear, because fear has to do with punishment. The one who fears is not made perfect in love. 1 Jo. 4:18
My doctors were positive of MS. My symptoms said yes, but test after test after test – after multiple MRI’s – they still couldn’t fully diagnose me. So, what was a certain reality, became certainly “not MS.”
God hears prayers. Miracles can – and sometimes do – happen. But, sometimes the greatest miracle is not the answer to the prayer, but God’s answer in to what plagued our heart.
He always goes for the greatest healing.
So, don’t give up because you think the great physician has left the office.
Don’t give up because you feel forgotten.
Don’t give up because he is attending to others first.
God has the perfect course of action for you.
He hasn’t forgotten you.
He asks you, will you trust me?
Will you believe that in this wait I have something amazing for you?
And, as we do, he does something amazing.
He changes it all.
Our fearing rooms turn into trusting rooms.
Our holding cells turn into praying cells.
And, our fear turns into a deep knowledge God is near.
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