Often times I heard of stories where Christ healed people by placing clay over their eyes, then they could see1. Another time Christ commanded a lame man to walk and then he arose and walked2. When I prayed for him to heal me, I believed He would.
Please God, make me whole. Please, Father in Heaven, make me not scared anymore. Please, Lord protect me from him. I unclasped my folded hands and found my finger marks fading slower than I thought they would.
I gave it all, God. I don’t know really how to give more. So now, I’m healed…am I?
I shoved the doubt aside and got up off my knees, grabbing my keys off the shelf and into my backpack. These next few steps in my morning routine were done with speed and purpose. If they weren’t, I always feared I wouldn’t actually leave.
Thinking of my prayer, I wondered if today was the day I would walk out my front door without checking my back. Each day, I was surprised how easily my neck fell into routine – left, right, left, right. Blind spots other people would miss, were where my mind forced my eyes to peer. If someone watched me do this routine, they may have thought I was looking for something specific. I was. Only it was someone.
It came time to leave and I took a deep breath, exited the door. Right, left, right, left. Under the stairs to the left, behind the pillar, in between the cars, back seat of my car, passenger side. My hand tried for the handle. Locked. My shoulders loosened, and I unlocked the driver door collapsing into the seat, my finger locking the car. One last glance into the back seat, just in case. I better check the trunk. I don’t have time. I have to go. I pulled out of the parking lot. There’s his truck. My cheeks flushed and I pulled out, checking the mirror to see if the truck would move. It didn’t. Maybe, I’m safe.
My phone buzzed just then, pulling my attention too quickly away from that secure thought. “Good morning!”
Icicles coated my spine. Good morning?!
There have been multiple days since this one where “good” wouldn’t have been my top pick when describing my morning. Even after getting through a lot of this I have wondered why some mornings are still hard? After going through something so terrifying, you’d think the daily things would become a piece of cake, because, comparatively, they are.
I also thought, Hmmm. Maybe, after I fight to leave my house and gain victory enough times, maybe life will get easier. Here’s what actually happened.
- Those victories trained my body to never stop fighting.
- In those battles, even when lost, I undeniably felt God give me strength.
- Most importantly, the things I did to heal myself paled in comparison to the things God did to heal me.
I’m not quite ready to get into that today, but this week, I’ve been overwhelmed by the thought,
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