Let the People Say Amen

I am going to get serious for a minute. I know you don't come here for seriousness, so feel free to click that X up in the top right corner. 

Or continue reading and get schooled.

I know this blog doesn't have much substance. I don't harp on serious subjects and I am not out to change the world or rally against puppy mills or big tobacco, but I am not always just sharts and giggles. I do have a serious side. Trust me. I once did an 8 minute presentation on Rudyard Kipling and NO ONE was laughing. Seriously.

My funny side may be, well, funnier, but sometimes the serious side has to show itself.

I got caught up in an incredibly sad blog last night. After reading of this young woman's struggles with grief and sickness and utter loneliness, I felt terrible for her. And I felt like I was led to blog about something that someone, somewhere may need to hear.

I know what it is like to be grief-stricken at the loss of a loved one. I know what it's like to be at the threshold of depression and sadness, unable to move from the bed and paralyzed in a dark room for hours, shutting out the warmth and light of the world. I know what it's like to be scared to death that you or a family member is sick. Throughout my life, I have had periods of darkness that I wouldn't wish on my worst enemy. Or Rosie O'Donnell. Well, that's one in the same.

But, that doesn't make me special or pitiable. Everyone has something they have gone through. Everyone fights some sort of daily battle. The way you know you've won the battle is if you come out stronger because of it. 

Here's just one example. 

When I was 19, I got sick. Not deathly sick, but something just wasn't right. After countless doctors visits and feeling like crud for weeks, a doctor announced something that rocked  me to my core. My blood work was consistent with that of leukemia. And my heart sank. And I feared that my time on earth was done. At 19.

I had to have a bone marrow biopsy. This is where they stick a needle that resembles the thickness of a garden hose into your bone and suck out some marrow. And it hurts about as bad as it sounds.

My mother and sister were there with me and my mother, being the Godly Christian woman that she is, asked the doctor to pray over the bone marrow.

I have to admit that before that time, I was sometimes embarrassed of my mother's faith. I have heavily repented of that since then, but I used to be embarrassed that she prayed before meals in restaurants. I was embarrassed that she raised her hands and praised God in church. I was nervous that people would think my mother was some Christian nut job that ran around casting the devil out of every doorknob. (She isn't. She's completely normal and the funniest person I know.) But, I was a teenager. I didn't want my mother doing anything that would cause me to feel awkward. Being a teenager was awkward enough.

I had grown up in church. I was saved. I had always believed in the Lord. I had always prayed and run to God when I needed comfort. I just didn't feel the need to tell others about my relationship with God.

So, when my mother asked the oncologist to pray over my bone marrow, I became embarrassed. What in the world would this doctor think of such a request? He would surely think that science beat faith by a long shot. And he would think that no amount of praying could heal my body or my marrow, if anything was wrong.

But, the doctor happily agreed. And they all gathered around and held hands, while I was lying on a table in pain, and I began to cry. I wasn't crying at the uncomfortableness that I was feeling as much as I was crying at the words coming out of my mother's, the doctor's and even the nurses' mouths. They were praying for me, and at that moment, I was crying because I felt that something supernatural was going on in that little room.

And I clung to God during those days that we waited for the results. They were long days, my mind on a roller coaster, thinking I could be diagnosed with something that could potentially kill me. And then the peace of God would cover me again, and I would feel better.

During those scary days, my relationship with the Lord grew. I really felt His presence for the first time in my life. Like I said, I'd always believed in Him and prayed, but I really felt Him at that time. And through Scripture and prayer, I learned that I had gone through this for a reason. This was the one thing that would bring me closer to Him. And it worked.

I didn't have leukemia. I had some sort of strange virus and my blood work was back to normal within a few weeks. But, I didn't forget the life-altering relationship that I had developed with God. And, to this day, that relationship is there, just as strong as it was 11 years ago.

Since that time, I have dealt with other scary moments. I've had my mind attacked to the fullest extent of thinking that I was absolutely crazy. I've dealt with moments of fear regarding my children and other loved ones. I've felt grief and pain. And I've stayed close to God throughout those times. And I've made it through. I've won the battle, not by anything that I did, but by what He did.

No one can tell me that God isn't real and ever present. No one can tell me that the closeness I've felt to Him is some made up thing that I concocted in my mind to feel better. No one can tell me that my faith isn't real. I know He has come to me in my darkest hour. And I know He has rescued me and made me better.

Back to the sad blog I was reading last night- this person had no hope or belief in God. I wanted to know who she was, where she lived, and hug her and pray with her. I wanted her to know that there is hope.  I don't know how people make it through this life, through this dark world without Him. I know I certainly couldn't.

I was led to blog about this in case any one should stumble upon it that feels lost or desperate. In my little world of tripping on Wal-Martians in Juicy sweatpants and loathing cats, Jersey Shore, and belly button lint, I realize that there are people blogging about desperation, sickness and loneliness. These people are hurting, just as I have hurt before.  

And I want these people to know that there is help and comfort at their disposal. And all they have to do is ask for it.

I see blogs that want to spread the news about bargains and and beauty tips. When you discover something that is so wonderful you want to share it with others, you should. God's love and peace that passeth all understanding is the most wonderful thing I know. That is why I shared this. 

And let the people say amen.

Amen.

Come to Me, all who are weary and heavy-laden, and I will give you rest.

Matthew 11:28