nce again, I am resting in my bed feeling
discouraged; I never would have believed I would
not be healthy all my life. I can’t seem to decide
what to do, to my right on my bedside table are a
multitude of prescriptions meant to help me feel
better and stop the pain; and to my left side is
my faithful pug snuggled-up next to me.
She is very old, blind and deaf, but she is like
Velcro, wherever I go, she follows even though
she can barely walk. She is fast asleep breathing
deeply, looking so comfortable. I can’t help but
reach down to stroke her head. She acknowledges me by letting out a long sigh. I take her paw
in my hand while I lean my head back into my
pillows feeling overwhelmed by the pain in my
body. I know the medications will help me, but I
am so tired of reaching for pills.
I whisper to myself, “Why Lord?” Why
must I go through this?”
Just then my pug tries to adjust her position on
the bed, grunting a little as she moves I try to
help her and she lets out a little yelp of pain. I pat
her head telling her its OK and she settles back
down.
I start to reach for one of my medications; how
I wish God could hold my hand and tell me that
everything is OK. I know He loves me, but why
hasn’t He healed me? I love my little pug dog, but
I cannot remove her pain. But God is the Creator
of everything He could take away my pain and
make me whole. Besides, couldn’t God use me
more effectively if I wasn’t sick? Almost instantly
as the words leave my mouth, I hear myself say
out loud, “but who says I am not whole now?”
That question is easy to answer; my family says
it, society says it, other Christians say it, pretty
much anyone who knows what happened to me
believes I am not whole, they used to see me,
but now they see an illness not a whole person.
Some people have even told me I am paying for
a past sin or un-forgiveness in my heart somewhere.
Page 54
I sat up right in my bed and I reached for my
Bible. My mind churning with thoughts