Read, Write, Love, Repeat

“I consciously slowed my breathing, sweat slipping down my cheek as I stretched my sizzling muscles. I smiled tiredly to myself, a feeling of accomplishment washing over me as I finished the day’s workout- a tough cardio routine with some upper and lower body thrown in for good measure. It had been a full day of teaching: on my feet, working with struggling writers and challenging excelling writers, talking about figurative language and how an author can paint a picture with words, exhausting and oh-so-satisfying. After a stop at the grocery store on the way home, I wanted to be sure to sneak in a workout before cooking dinner and hanging with my people for the evening.

And again, it catches me by surprise, blindsides me with joy. That I get to have this life again.”

This description wasn’t from a day long past, years ago in my “previous life.” It’s from now. In Texas. In 2019. I honestly don’t even know where to start with this, but it’s time to share, time to go public, time to give God the glory.

I have experience something I never thought I would have, nearly 4 years after my life totally turned upside down. God has blessed me beyond what I can even say.

I. Am. Well. Healed. Whole. Healthy.

Before you ask or wonder, let me emphasize at the beginning that this has nothing to do with any new treatment, breakthrough medications, change in diet, adding more supplements, or other explainable reason. This is a 100% irrefutable only-God-can-do-this miracle. I know this because I asked and, at that moment of asking, everything changed.

You see, I never asked God to heal my fibromyalgia before, never ever. I whined to Him about my illness. I complained. A lot. At least internally. I asked WHY this was happening. And in the midst of the wondering and complaining, He eventually helped me settle into a groove of trust, a place of knowing God would use my chronic illness life for my good and His glory, confident of His goodness, comfortable not asking for Him to change my circumstances.

I didn’t ask. Until I did ask.

Let me back up. To January 9, 2019.

I was already tired and in pain that evening, having spent the day with my high school students, my first day back after Christmas break, still in a post-holiday mindset and not ready for routine, worn out from reminding these sweet kids they had a new semester and much to learn.

It was a chilly winter night as we piled into the Highlander on our way to a special service at church, part of a New Year kick-off series. I wasn’t about to opt out just because I was tired and felt rough. If I’d waited these past 4 years to not be tired or to feel good before I did something, I never would’ve done anything. So, I pushed through. My cane in hand, I was ready for connection, eager for worship, excited to hear a guest speaker I’d followed online for 5 years. I went in expectant, ready to be filled and blessed but not knowing how completely this evening would change things. All the things.

We prayed, we sang and worshiped together, we heard a great message. It was beautiful, all I thought it would be. Then. As they were dismissing us they specifically invited anyone struggling with health issues to come to the front to have one of the pastors pray over them for healing. My breath caught. I’d never asked for healing. But then I felt it. The tug, the push to go forward to ask. Just ask. But only within God’s will, I told myself. Only if the time was right.

Walking up to the front of the church, following the Spirit’s nudge to just ask, I believed fully. I totally trusted in God’s power to heal me. Just didn’t fully expect it.

Heart pounding, leaning hard on my cane as my legs screamed from sitting too long in one position, I approached one of our pastors and his wife. And I asked. I said the words. I laid it out. Could they please pray that God would heal my fibromyalgia? But only, ONLY, if it was God’s will and timing. If it wasn’t His will or His timing, that was okay, I said, I wouldn’t doubt God’s love or goodness. The pastor and his wife anointed my forehead with oil, each placed a hand on one of my shoulders, and prayed. They prayed that God would bring my body fully into healthy alignment and that if it was within His will, that I would be healed of my fibromyalgia.

And as the pastor prayed, I felt it. Felt the pain melt away from my legs, my knees, my hips, my elbows and back; it was just gone. It was unlike anything else I’ve ever experienced. By the time he finished praying I was shaking. This pastor, one who didn’t know me well or know my story beyond what I’d just shared, looked me level in the eye and told me God was proud of me, of how I had walked through this season, of how I had looked to Him in my disability, of how I had trusted Him. Tears slid down my cheeks.

I asked. And God answered. Immediately.

To be clear, this is NOT how I grew up. We didn’t do these things at our church. We prayed and said we believed in healing, but there were certainly no hands being laid on, no anointing with oil, no expectation of on-the-spot, life-changing miracles. But you can’t put God in a box. And you can’t say what He will do or will not do.

Does this mean if His answer was different, that if I hadn’t been healed that night, He loves me less? Absolutely not. Does it mean people don’t have things just because they don’t ask God? Not necessarily. I truly believe God answered me and healed me in that time and place because I asked in His timing (listening to the Spirit’s nudge) and for His purposes. And He has the next chapter already worked out. Like my season of chronic illness, this healing is for my good and for His glory. This is about Him. Not about me.

I walked out of our church building that night, wonder-struck. I haltingly told my son and husband what had happened. Awake in the wee hours of the next morning, I had to wonder how this healing thing would look, if it was forever and total healing or just feeling better for now. Which was also fine by me. Well, the next day I was really worn out, and didn’t feel great, but the I noticed the pain didn’t bleed back in. As I opened my eyes on January 11, my energy level skyrocketed and has maintained that level ever since. Through stormy, rainy, cold weeks that have come and gone since then I haven’t had a pain flare since that night of asking and trusting and prayer and healing.

There’s a time not that many years ago I, as a life-long Jesus-follower, would have listened politely to someone saying what I’m saying, smiled and said, “How wonderful!” and gone about my day with a sliver of doubt. Surely they’re mistaken. Does God really do that kind of thing anymore? Hmm. But He does. And He has. And He will. I’ve seen miracles beyond this, in the lives of those around me, close-range and undeniable. There’s a monumental shift that comes when we move from believing IN God to believing GOD.

While fibromyalgia was never a death sentence, it certainly seemed to be a life sentence. But God has given me pardon, release. All the closed doors are now opening a crack. The world of “no, I can’t do that,” or “that’s too much for me,” all that now falling away, the potential of “yes” now spilling in around the edges.  God’s “possible” unfolding where it seemed “impossible” was crowding everything out. “Maybe” is another thing that’s re-emerging. Maybe I will hike in Yosemite again one day. Maybe I’ll work full time again. Maybe I can get in really good shape again. Maybe I can tolerate road trips and explore so much more of my new home state. Maybe God has plans for this that I can’t even conceive of or imagine. I love the feeling, this return of maybe.

God knew I was not ready for His miracle before now, this “now” that has God slipped into exactly the right place in my heart and in His story for my healing. He’s brought me to this “now,” this place: Cane laid aside, no longer necessary. Not having to plan an afternoon nap just to get through a normal day. Mind sizzling and crystal clear, body strengthening. Exercising and not having to rest for an hour afterwards. Running errands like a regular person. FEELING like a regular person. Never thought I’d get to be that girl again. However, I’m intentionally NOT making a master plan of what this is all going to lead to and look like, largely because He’s taught me I don’t make the master plan and have no business pretending I do.

January 9, 2019. I will mark this down. I will circle it in my calendar. I will celebrate it every year. Just as I mark April 2015 as the time everything changed because of fibromyalgia. January 9. I will sing and scream and dance for the day everything changed because of God’s healing hand. I will praise Him. I praised Him when I hurt and struggled. I will praise Him all the more now.