Unexpected Blessing

People are tired of hearing your medical woes and fears. Even when I try to express my concerns about tests and results to my boys, they just cut me off with "You'll be fine. You always are."

Well, that's true. God has been gracious, and I do pull through the most challenging physical problems some way or another, even when it looks dicey. But I get tired of being poked and prodded and enduring the "discomfort" of the tests. I don't mean to complain. I am grateful that I get good medical care, that I have health insurance, that I live in a country where the hospitals are regulated and the doctors well trained.

The thought of having someone stick something down my throat and fish around in my stomach for a biopsy chunk does set me off though. I know all the head techniques of not dwelling on the idea, of filling up with verses to hang onto, of calling the prayer warriors in my life to intercede. I have friends who will go with me and be there for me, family who love me and are pulling for me to do well. I am blessed.

Still. Sometimes I just want to "let it all out" - to cry and wail in protest, to register my unhappiness somewhere where I will be allowed to vent freely without being reassured. I have no significant other to kiss away the tears. I told God so. "When do I get somebody to hold me tight and reassure me without making my fears and discouragement seem unjustified? Someone to just love me when I am weak and whiney? Someone I don't have to be strong for?"

Well! God takes this stuff seriously. I should have known He would answer, but I was taken totally by surprise when I walked into the seminary Lutheran chapel and found the title of the evening's traditional Lutheran service was a healing service. I have done Lutheran at Concordia, and they don't do healing services as the norm there.

Even more surprising was the statement made by the pastor that this service was something God had laid on her heart. She had struggled with whether to obey the voice within her. Thank God she did! We read through the liturgy, every word sinking into my heart, reminding me of God's desire to love His people, of God's great power and grace, of the many others in this world who are suffering and of our need to lift them up in prayer. We read the prayers millions of others have prayed through the ages, reflecting on the Scriptures.

She invited those who wished prayer for healing and wholeness to come forward for anointing. I didn't move right away, I was still amazed at how much trouble God had gone through to reassure me that He was with me and then the tears began. I knew I could be weak and whiney with God and He would still love me, hold me, not try to cut off my tumbling words of fears and discouragement.

I spilled them all out, every one. The tears kept flowing and flowing as I was able to honestly say that I am tired of being ill, that I want the tests to stop, that I want the cancer gone, that I am afraid of the endoscopy, that its not fair, that I just need to be held and loved. He heard every word.

When I got in line and it was my turn to be anointed, the pastor told me she had seen me before ever she had stepped foot in the building, that God had shown her of my need, and that indeed, this service was for me. More tears. She anointed my forehead with oil, and put her arms around me and hugged me. Like a child, I lay my head on her shoulder and wept.

Good Lord, how will I be able to return to class and quiet down, now that the floodgates have burst? I need not have worried. Once it was all out, once I had felt the reassuring arms of comfort, the quiet upholding of the One who made me, the patting of the head to know it's OK, the tears just stopped. In plenty of time to resume class and concentrate on the discussion.

God is good. God is very very good. I don't know what may come in the weeks ahead. I do know God will be with me, and that is enough. Praise God, from whom all blessings flow.