Over Christmas break, I fell. It was cold and I was in a hurry so I was walking fast. It was dark and I was in a place I didn't know well. I didn't look down. In the darkness and in my haste, I tripped over a raised platform I didn't realize was there and I went flying. A bruised knee, a sore arm, a gash above my eye, a bump on the forehead and a large goose egg on the back of my head. It all happened so quickly I'm not even sure how I landed on so many places in such a short amount of time. Mostly my ego was hurt. A little super glue took care of the gash and an ice pack diminished the size of the goose egg. Time brought lovely color changes to my eye and my knee and varying degrees of soreness to my arm. The scariest, however, occurred a week after the incident, when I suddenly experienced vertigo upon waking. The worst of it subsided within a few minutes but a milder vertigo continued. Even at this degree it was irritating and wearisome. I had to think about every move of my head, keeping my movements slow and small. I often held the wall or furniture for support for fear of falls. Of course it was also frightening, especially at first, when my mind immediately diagnosed myself with the worst case scenario. Even after realizing it was most likely related to the fall, the fears came and went. With a history of anxiety and panic attacks, now mostly healed, I feared that I'd return to a dark place I didn't want to re-open.
I cried out to God multiple times to make it stop. I feared going to bed because that was where it had started. I knew that lying down was the worst position for me and that every time I rolled over I would again feel myself swimming. But that first night came and I didn't have a choice. As expected, I woke many times, probably every time I moved. Around 3AM I decided to give up and find something else to do. Just after slowly moving from the bed to a standing position, I realized that I was not the only one awake in the house. Our flight-er was also up, likely headed out for a smoke or walk to a nearby store where sticky fingers would help themselves to whatever was most desired at that time. So I did what I do most when one of my own leaves the house without permission at any time, day or night. I got myself to the living room sofa, pulled out my prayer journal and my Bible, and stormed Heaven for myself and my child.
"God, heal me and my child," was the simple prayer I breathed over and over throughout my lamentations and appeals. That became my prayer throughout the rest of the day. I realized that my trial was just another reminder to pray without ceasing for the complete emotional healing of one of my own. I had a constant prompt to pray and I was going to take full advantage of it.
Later in the day I had a meeting with some friends. I did something I don't often do but know I need to be willing to do more, I asked for prayer for both the vertigo and one of my own.
That evening, the Good Doctor and I once again prayed for the vertigo and for sleep. I had a feeling that something was different. I rolled over and didn't feel as dizzy.
And I woke up in the morning, refreshed, and healed from the vertigo.
I don't know why He chose to wait 48 hours to heal me. I don't know why He chose to heal me after only 48 hours. I don't know why one of my own continues to spiral downward, why healing seems so far off. But I do know that He loves me and my child. I do know that He knows me so much better than I know myself. And He knows one of my own more than I will ever be allowed in. There is a plan and a reason and a purpose for everything. My job isn't to try to figure it out. My job is to ask. To wait. To listen.
But most importantly, to trust. To trust in His goodness to me and to those around me.
You intended to harm me,
but God intended it for good
to accomplish what is now being done,
the saving of many lives.
Genesis 50:20
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