chronic pain – Page 7 – Jesus is for the Wounded

High CBD Hemp Oil and Me

Published on July 25, 2014February 8, 2019 by Jesus is for the Wounded2 Comments

So we had a great go of it, HCBDHO and me.

This past winter I gave it a try for about 3 months after discovering some research linking reduced seizures to consumption of a particular type of cannabis oil. When I found out that there is an industrial hemp oil with only trace amounts of THC and that it would be legal for me to purchase it in my State, I purchased a bottle online. I worked with the manufacturer and a couple of Facebook groups on dosing. My initial results were very encouraging!

Within 2 weeks I required increased drops of HCBDHO to receive the same benefit. This fit the profile of many other users of the product. Some required nearly 1/2 bottle to stop their seizures even if a child was taking it. There are lots of details here so I refer the Gentle Reader to previous posts by searching CBD oil on this site. In general as time wore on, the benefits diminished no matter what the dosing. Also in time I started having bad dreams then bizarre nightmares. The nightmares frightened me. I could not figure out why they were happening! Then I read that some folks are sensitive to even trace amounts of THC: the compound in cannabis oil that creates a high when taken in products that have a higher percentage of this cannabinoid. Well I wasn’t having a good time at all!

Eventually I stopped taking HCBDHO altogether. Now that I am sensitized to it, I do not intend to take it again. The risk of altered thought processes in my precious sleep (that I desperately need to recover from these wretched daily seizure attack episodes) overrides the small improvements that remained after 3 months. The benefits did not outweigh the risks. I am majorly bummed that it did not work for me. Nothing has worked for me. No combination of things have worked for me. I cannot tolerate treatment that works for others without ramping up to violent convulsions. Detoxing is impossible without noxious, severe side effects. Talk about being boxed into a dark corner without a flashlight. Will hope ever shine through again?

Sure it will. Lately I’m experimenting with magnesium threonate and may try a particular brand of Tahitian Noni Juice. The latter helped Kurt and Lee Ann Billings, the authors of Mold: The War Within, who did not do the typical protocols of cholestyramine, activated charcoal or benonite clay to get well. Yup, all of those three caused me noxious, severe side effects as well. Sish. I am very glad that there are new things to try despite the dead ends of my medical team at the moment. Thank you Lord that you are always my hope with or without Tahitian Noni: my forever guiding light Who uses the hardships for Your glory . . .

So for those of you considering using high CBD hemp oil (from industrial hemp) or other cannabis products (from hemp classified as medical marijuana), I encourage you to learn all you can at informational sites such as the following Scientific Review of the research literature: You are also invited to “Like” my facebook page which contains all of the pertinent research that I did when making my decision to try HCBDHO. The articles include the legality of industrial hemp products and the difference between them and medical marijuana. Here’s a link to get you started: Seizure Free Zone on Facebook

May the Lord bless you on your journey too, JJ

That’s what friends are for

Published on July 14, 2014August 5, 2014 by Jesus is for the WoundedLeave a comment

Mrs. Wesolowski would turn over in grave if she saw this title and its dangling participle. So sorry my late English teacher. It’s even a song title and a great pop tune as well:

Tonight I got to go back in time to my working days. I had the privilege of talking on the phone with 2 ladies via conference call that I worked with over 10 years ago. The two of them are long time friends from college. As for me, “P1” was the Certified Occupational Therapy Assistant (COTA) in a skilled nursing facility (SNF) where I was her supervising Occupational Therapist. She was hard-working, dedicated, thorough, and very kind with all of our rehabilitation patients. We had lots of memorable moments and a few we would rather forget as well. It’s all in the mix when you serve others in the zany, fast-paced people business of healthcare.

“P2” was also a COTA in another SNF when we met, providing quality therapy services over the weekend. We laughed and got an incredible amount of work done with residents we hardly knew when covering for the regular therapists. On call work isn’t for everyone when you have to provide billable services in a place where you can hardly find the resident’s rooms in an unfamiliar setting! What I remember most about P2 was our 1 1/2 years together when I assisted her with a Fibromyalgia Support group she founded for Central DuPage Hospital. I learned a lot from P2 as she cared for those who attended as friends, as sojourners, emphasizing the importance of keeping our focus on wellness, not just illness when battling chronic pain.

I am so grateful that P1 put this call together tonight. We got to talk “shop” for the first time for me in a long time. They also understood the administrative details with which I have struggled in my brother’s care after a stroke 3 months ago. With P2 we share a strong interest in gardening: in the past P2’s home was a registered bird and butterfly sanctuary in the west suburbs of Chicago (a very unlikely place for a natural retreat!) With P1 I share overcoming a traumatic event at our place of work when an administrator verbally attacked her in front of a regional rehabilitation manager who did nothing to defend P1. She ended up resigning to save her dignity and avoid having to travel many miles between two facilities with the second one even further from her home. I respected her tremendously for moving on. We lost a dedicated employee that day but I gained a friendship that has endured more than this . . .

Their sons are now nearly grown and I have moved 200 miles away to another State to remarry and start a new life. P1 is back in occupational therapy in a SNF near her home and P2 provides Ai Chi water classes to those seeking peace through gentle movements and relaxation techniques. Both apply everyday what it means to be trained in the field of occupational therapy: adapting to the challenges and opportunities of life, enriching the lives of others, connecting with those we hold dear. I do miss working as an occupational therapist. I also recognize that I am grateful for the skills I learned in O.T. that I use everyday to cope with an ongoing, serious illness. Sometimes I wish I could go back in time to relive some of those days when a twinkle in the eye of an older adult was my greatest reward for a job well done. Or when I hear a whoot! whooot! from behind a closed door from a patient who has just regained the ability to care for himself because of the therapeutic relationship with his seasoned COTA. Those were the days, eh ladies?

As we move forward in life the focus must always change at some point. I do wonder if I will get to share a cup of coffee or tea with P1 and P2 in person? Or maybe we will walk in P2’s garden along the wetland in her backyard and marvel at the 80 birdhouse gourds she might harvest once again. We probably will never work together again and that’s cool too. But hey, let’s never lose touch o.k.? You have filled my heart with goodness this night and I appreciate you too so very much. Seeya on Facebook. Love to you both, Just Julie

Puffy white clouds and 5 sparrows

Published on June 22, 2014June 22, 2014 by Jesus is for the WoundedLeave a comment

⁶Are not five sparrows sold for two pennies? Yet not one of them is forgotten by God. ⁷Indeed, the very hairs of your head are all numbered. Don’t be afraid; you are worth more than many sparrows. Luke 12

At first it looked like a gentle breeze flowing through the branches of the variegated dogwood bush outside our bedroom window. Puffy clouds drifted past the backdrop of the truest “sky blue” you could desire on an early summer afternoon. Such a simple scene, peaceful too. Then again the rustling appeared to come from below my view. Was there, wait, yes maybe there’s a little critter in there moving the branches about? And lo there she was: a lone house sparrow spritely jumping about within the leaf cover in and out of my view just a few feet away. Better not move a muscle or I might disturb the work of my feathered friend. Does she know that I could almost reach out and touch her marbled wings if the screen window didn’t separate us, didn’t provide secluded freedom for your Saturday play . . .

The little one flew away as my gaze returned to the light blue walls next to the bed inside the window. Maybe if I waited just a little longer another visitor would appear? To my delight the green-with-white birdhouse was rustling again from the top, the bottom, and even just beyond my view! Let’s see: there’s one, two, three . . . a fourth appeared and darted deeper into the cover of leaves as a fifth little birdie perched right in front of me too. Silly little one. He began preening his ecru-colored chest feathers without a care in the world as the branch bobbled up, down, and all around. He reminded me of my brother’s childhood parakeet, Perky. How they flex their necks so steeply to reach the soft feathers that form a collar of fluff I’ll never know. Such a curious, skittish, carefree creation indeed. Then in a matter of a few seconds, they all flew away . . .

I was alone again. Maybe I could try to move my head and adjust the comforter covering my chilled shoulders? Yes, that’s good. But to move my legs and arms was not to be just yet as my attempt to do so triggered another mini seizure attack episode. Sigh. I thought I would be recovering by now. Not so. Oh well, when my husband comes back I’ll ask him to bring me the lunch I had made myself earlier and put into the frig in case we were to go out on our tandem outrigger canoe this afternoon. What a nice treat I thought it would be to have something made ahead of time that fit my special diet and tasted yummy too. Not quite. Gratefully it wasn’t too long before he returned to check on me, brought me the container of rice paper finger sandwiches and fed me several bites, one by one. Then he put the bicycle water bottle to my mouth so I could sip some water and wash down the food sticking to my throat as I lain sideways on the bed. A few bites, a long sip, a few bites, a long sip. He has this routine down pretty well by now. Thankfully these complete neurological collapse episodes only happen every 10 days lately. They used to be every couple days . . .

In time my strength returned and I was able to put a pillow under my own head and feed myself. Unfortunately something triggered a major seizure jolt when my beloved returned, setting me back again for awhile. He was sitting close to me and I suddenly needed some fresh air from outside the window. Stevers obliged then left me alone again to recover per our routine for these sort of things. Again I revived. Eventually I was able to weakly get out of bed and start to put on some clothes. That’s a nice thing to do after a shower at 2 in the afternoon. I was feeling a little funny lying there naked rolled up in the comforter. Oh well. It’s the best I could do after beginning to collapse in the shower an hour earlier, struggling to dry myself off, and Steve helping me lie down as it appeared I would be falling over any moment. Flash forward almost two hours as the episode was resolving I was grateful to be able to move my left arm again. Looks like I would be o.k. albeit shaken for several more hours anyways . . .

Sitting outside in the sunshine helped me regain my strength. Of course I had another one of my low oxalate snack concoctions (white chocolate!) and a refill of cool water in my trusty Summit City Bicycles and Fitness water bottle. Little did the guys at the shop know how helpful that bottle had become when I needed a special flow-control mouthpiece to refresh me when in bed, not on the Fort Wayne River Greenway! Maybe someday soon I’ll get back on my bike. I am grateful to have had a test run of two miles earlier this Spring; I should be able to repeat a short ride on a better Saturday afternoon really soon, Lord willing. How hard could it be to peddle a few miles? Well anyways sitting outside on our patio later this afternoon with pretty gardens all around me and the sun still shining brightly overhead did me a world of good. The puffy white clouds still filled the sky and I could hear sparrows, robins, and more in the distance. I got up to pluck a few weeds, pick a few radishes, tinker here and there before returning into the house. Perhaps my beloved would understand that this day would be better spent at home than paddling on a lake somewhere? Change of plans. Enduring these kinds of afternoons together makes it obvious what we should do, more than words can ever say . . .

The rest of the day was decent as I prepared a nice dinner and some food for tomorrow in case we are able to reschedule our outing on the water together. I do try to be hopeful, eh? As most Gentle Readers would recognize in this blog we tend to live our lives over here a bit spontaneously: making plans more at the last minute, in the afternoon or evening, and after checking the weather report/Julie’s snack supply/whatever we can reschedule to be able to get away . . .

This evening? Not so nice. We are just not sure what is going on with these wretched evening episodes again. After a full year of 1-3 hour episodes virtually every night after dark and up to 30 minutes most mornings, you would think one of these specialists I’ve seen would have figured it out! Yes, my melatonin level is off the chart and melatonin levels change at night. I am getting out in the sunshine just about every day, exercising at night, avoiding foods with tryptophan (that tends to elevate melatonin) and more per my internet research on the subject yet the excess must be persisting. (Labs to follow!) Then my new biotoxin doctor laid a good one on me yesterday, saying that if anyone could figure out what to do IT WOULD BE ME SINCE I KNOW MY SITUATION THE BEST. Whaaaat? Why do you think I pursued your clinic out of State? I was hoping YOU could figure it out! Even my brilliant functional medicine doctor in addition to your brilliant functional medicine colleague have largely set me adrift. Now you are saying since I cannot tolerate Dr. Shoemaker’s biotoxin protocol that you cannot help me either? If you think I was able to figure this out would I be calling you? Geez oh man. Lord, come what may . . .

Back to the story of the bird in the hand is worth two in the bush OR wait a minute: there aren’t any birds here right now since it’s after 4 in the morning! Yes, I’m back to my late night schedule again. Let’s see . . . perhaps Luke 12 can remind me that just as the Lord provided me a sweet distraction of His delightful creation in my time of distress, He cares for me and for Steve in our times of distress too. He has provided for our needs despite the incredible expenses, sustained us during multiple special events when extraordinary measures were needed to keep me as safe as possible, and granted me the time and space to get well when I cannot work. I am grateful for my incredibly loving husband, a pretty home and gardens to enjoy when I cannot go out, and sparing of my abilities to think take care of my basic needs. Sometimes I need to wait for the Lord’s timing on some of these things which is o.k. too. I have learned to appreciate blessings in smaller packages with gratitude as they present themselves each day . . .

So I choose to take to heart His statement, His promise to care for all of the details of my life. He knows all about what is happening over here and desires for me to be courageous, not afraid. He has laid it on my heart that He has a plan and a future for my life (Jeremiah 29:11) and that nothing will separate me from Him or His will (Romans 8:38). I get this. Perhaps it’s why I don’t spend as much time crying anymore when the wretchedness comes. Instead I’ll say,

³Not only that, but we rejoice in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, ⁴and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, ⁵and hope does not put us to shame, because God’s love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit who has been given to us. Romans 5 (ESV)

With the lightness of heart shown to me by my Creator God this afternoon in my time of need, I’ll take the last word of the paragraphs granted by His grace and noted above:

This new day will come anyways, and no matter what may come or others may say, I will find a way to play with lightness of heart in celebration of the One who goes before me and will never go away!

Thank you Jesus for your Word, for your gift of words. Thank you for helping me get through that to which you have called me and should any good shine through may it be for your glory Lord. If it is your will I ask for your healing mercies and a time of blessing. I lift up my husband (Steve), and my brother (Mike) too for your anointing and blessing. If there is anything hindering our walk with You, please guide us, restore us through your Holy Spirit so that we may delight in sweet fellowship with you all of our days.

In Jesus’ name I pray. Amen.

The Real Tree of Life

Published on June 6, 2014June 6, 2014 by Jesus is for the WoundedLeave a comment

In the 1980’s I visited the Monet exhibit when it was at the Chicago Art Museum. My husband at the time humored me with tickets and appeared to be as delighted as I was with the works of this famous impressionist. Sometimes you just have to see things in person to understand their brilliance; this was true for both of us after we toured the travelling exhibit. We brought home a print of the Japanese Bridge at Giverny to frame and proudly display in our home as a remembrance. I still have that picture lying in wait for the perfect place to showcase it in the more contemporary-styled home of Steve and me. Perhaps we will find that spot in another few decades or maybe our next home, whichever comes first!

Another piece of art takes my breath away every time I see it. If I can ever find another print of it I suspect that I will always have it on display somewhere no matter our décor. I was in the gift shop of the Chicago Art Museum with a boyfriend at the time, years before finding the Monet print, when I found a poster of Henri Matisse’s “The Tree of Life.” It’s a photograph of a stained glass window from the Chapel of the Rosary in Vence, Italy. Something about it captured my heart. The colors and themes are simple, completed in a form of collage for which Mr. Matisse remains famous. I’m not particularly fond of most of the rest of his work however, that tends to be more abstract or includes distorted images of people, places, and things in bright colors. Many of those people are partially naked: tis not my cup of tea to have an image of a naked stranger on display in my living room!

We carried the poster home on the commuter train back home to the suburbs like a prized possession. This trip occurred before I had a personal relationship with Jesus Christ, the true giver of life. Oh I knew the story of Adam and Eve from Genesis and the two trees in the Garden of Eden: the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil, the Tree of Life. Perhaps it was the simple themes, Biblical title, and reverence for our Creator that struck a cord in me when I saw this image. Sadly over the years of living in various apartments then storing the print in a storage locker, the framed poster was damaged by a basement flood beyond repair. Or perhaps it was the distraction of graduate school that cost me my better judgment in keeping this little memento safe. Oh well. It’s not that important right?

Years later I came upon the Tree of Life image online. I searched and searched through scores of poster websites trying to find another copy. On two occasions I even called the gift shop at the Art Museum trying to locate a source for securing another copy. The image was printed for that temporary exhibit only and the staff said I would have to contact the Vatican in Italy for another one! Yes, I looked for contact information for the Vatican gift shop and eventually ran into a dead end once again. Still another lead led me to an oil painter who could make copies of it but the online service appeared somewhat nefarious for the cost. I’m not sure it would be worth a few hundred dollars to have a beastly oil painting when a nicely matted and framed print will do just fine.

So the search will go on for perhaps another few decades. That’s fine too. These days the “stuff of life” (as in art prints) is less important to me. An older mentor once taught me at a critical time in my life to hold things of value lightly before the throne of God’s grace. It’s like placing a pencil in the palm of an outstretched hand. He may grant you good things or non-material blessings depending upon each season of life in which we find ourselves. Sometimes we hold onto the pencil for a purpose as it lies on our hand and other times the pencil falls away. To discern whether to hold on to it or let go out of our hands is wisdom indeed and worth holding onto the most. Let’s reflect on this further:

She is a tree of life to those who take hold of her;
those who hold her fast will be blessed. Proverbs 3:18

Ah yes, there it is. Looks like in the Bible the Tree of Life was first noted in the Garden of Eden and later referred to wisdom. What else we can find?

The fruit of the righteous is a tree of life, and the one who is wise saves lives. Proverbs 11:30

Hope deferred makes the heart sick, but a longing fulfilled is a tree of life. Proverbs 13:12

The soothing tongue is a tree of life, but a perverse tongue crushes the spirit. Proverbs 15:4

On each side of the river stood the tree of life, bearing twelve crops of fruit, yielding its fruit every month. And the leaves of the tree are for the healing of the nations. Revelation 22:2

“Blessed are those who wash their robes, that they may have the right to the tree of life and may go through the gates into the city. Revelation 22:4

And if anyone takes words away from this scroll of prophecy, God will take away from that person any share in the tree of life and in the Holy City, which are described in this scroll. Revelation 22:19 (Our just reward if we do not heed His invitation.)

Knowing that I have access to the tree of life through my relationship with Jesus Christ has made a tremendous difference in my life. These past 2 1/2 years have been wretched with painful, noxious symptoms and waking seizures every day, multiple times per day, and often for hours. Other symptoms come and go every day. Knowing the hope that lies within our Lord’s living water manifest within the image of a life-giving tree resonates with me. I love gardening and increasingly appreciate being outside more than indoors: two ingredients drawing me towards His majestic creation in the natural world.

As He gives life to nature so does He breathe life into you and me. The past 1 1/2 months since my brother’s devastating stroke pains me as I realize his suffering too. My love for Mike draws me to pray for him in hopes that he rededicates his life to the Lord who loves him despite this situation. As we both dwell in the presence of the Lord there will be a purpose for our lives, a hope and a future (Jeremiah 29:11). We must draw upon the living water extended to us through Jesus’ death and resurrection to realize these promises, until we are called home to dwell in His presence forever. His indwelling Spirit will sustain us, and strengthen us like that tree of life growing strong and tall against the storms that may come. It is the harsh winds and rainstorms that help the sapling to develop strong roots, sturdy branches, and rings in the trunk that tell the stories of His amazing grace through it all.

The real tree of life is not a poster or a pendant found on the internet: that is for certain! The real tree of life is the Lord Jesus Christ as the rock of my salvation, His firm foundation under my feet, nourished from the Word of God, yielding the fruit of Holy Spirit for His glory alone. We will grow in love and admonition of the Lord: a wonderful place to be. I am so grateful to have found the true Giver of life. Gentle Reader: have you found Him too? :J

When you find your voice again

Published on May 21, 2014May 21, 2014 by Jesus is for the Wounded4 Comments

Perhaps it is a silent presence, a type of mindfulness that can speak as loud as a mountaintop yodel in a life-changing moment. Or maybe you must shout it out, screeching through a resistant case of laryngitis just what is on your mind. Then there are those measured words spoken through gritted teeth; oooooh, I hated when my mother uttered those when I was a child! A crazy person makes sense only to his or herself when the disemboweled utterance emerges from the trouble soul within. And the most agregious is the spine-tingling barbs of an angry person that can cut to the heart every time. Sure wish I had more of the first one and less of the others in my history!

A gentle answer turns away wrath,
but a harsh word stirs up anger. (Proverbs 15:1)

Yes indeed.

The seizure attacks came quickly this evening as soon as my face hit the head of the bed, elevated with folded blankets to promote sinus drainage and ease the chest compression of a recent infection. My left arm was tucked along my left side with my head turned to the right as I lain partially face-down. This position causes less neck and shoulder pain so it is often my go-to position when I sense the episode ramping up. The head-banging and shoulder trauma are minimized but the wrenching of my neck is nasty. Oh well, that’s what the chiropractor is for, right? Sigh.

Eventually I screeched out some “help me Lord” utterances with what was left of my voice box today. That came whilst straining to cry out to my Jesus with an acute illness on top of the mysterious seizure-like tics that plague me every morning, evening, and after exposure to noxious stimuli. I can’t even cry right! Then things got incredibly darker. In defense of my sanity I won’t go into details here so let’s just say that frightful images passed through my mind. Then in my mind’s eye I could see the images on my arms. Just then I noticed that Steve was stooping over the side of the bed beside me in the dark. Holy crap! His sudden appearance in the dark scared me further. My body writhed with seizures, now lying on my right side with Steve behind me. My arms flailed in the air, my legs flapped together then apart, and the screeching sound of my hoarse voice screaming holy terror would exceed any scene I’ve viewed from a psycho thriller for sure. But this was not a movie. This was ME!

A few decades ago some really bad things happened to me when I was a kid. I spent about 12 years as a young adult in many kinds of therapy, therapy groups, 12-step recovery groups (Al Anon Adult Children of Alcoholics), faith-based and 12-step weekend retreats, and reading tons of self-help books. True healing came when I got saved and the person of Jesus Christ showed me his love, care for me, and plan for my life if I would follow His lead. He was restoring the years the locusts had eaten (Joel 2:25) when I met my intended beloved and married Steve. I felt happy and free at last. Four years later I got very sick with viral hepatitis, Lyme disease, and Chronic Inflammatory Response Syndrome (related to mold). I haven’t been able to work in two years largely due to the seizure attack episodes multiple times per day. They are heartbreaking for both of us in addition to many other folks who have witnessed them too.

Over and over again I have searched for meaning, a purpose for this extended illness. The incredible expenses of remediating our home for mold in early 2013 surely tested our marriage for sure. We were living in a hotel while navigating a myriad of details and tough decisions as Steve travelled between work, home, and the hotel; his daughter chose to continue living in the house and help us out during the entire process. Eventually our dog joined us in the hotel. Eventually we completed the remediation, opted not to sell our house, and moved back home. However, the seizure attacks never stopped! By summer of 2013 they increased to up to 4 hours per day! No medical professional or online research has found an answer yet. Somehow Steve and I grew closer through it all as our hearts were breaking; the pain and suffering has been great.

Recently the Lord did show me a few tasks that needed to be completed in our marriage. The love between Steve and I over these past 2 1/2 years has become strengthened, deepened because of this difficult journey. We have now turned our residence into a “safe home” which restricts visitors or the conditions under which others may enter our home. This helps prevent exposures for me that could cause a negative reaction (aka seizures!). I love that my beloved is helping to protect me in this way so that I can get well. I love that he has been faithful to the Lord and to me through this entire journey. Others are watching us and I understand that we are doing some things right! My own restoration and healing from the past may have provided a foundation for the important growth in me that has happened of late. I am grateful to be able to recognize the good that is here along with the challenges. There is always good along with the challenges if we look closely enough . . .

Back to the scene in the bedroom. I asked Steve to move from where he was stooped behind me to the other side of the bed where he would be in front of me. The uncontrollable hell that was ravaging my weakened frame was frightening enough not to have a sense that someone, even someone I dearly loved, was lingering over me from behind. Steve knows all too well that if he touches me during an episode it can magnify the symptoms significantly. I just couldn’t risk a casual brush of a hand; my distress was already unbearable. Then the breakthrough began to happen. Speaking up despite the hoarseness of my voice rose up some inner strength I had never sensed before. I had to ride out the frightening images and thrashing about, my estimation of what weeping and gnashing of teeth might be like in a Biblical description of hell. Tears came. Silence followed. I was able to ask for what I really needed when scared.

Soon my gracious and godly husband was gently sitting beside me. I’m not sure if he was more horrified or moved to compassion! We processed the scene. His eyes held mind for a long time in the darkness before I was able to reach out and touch his arm. Soon he was able to reach out with comforting touch for me as well. Somehow we knew that my intolerance to intimate touch for the past 6 weeks was finally broken. I was able to lie in the arms of my beloved once again.

My writing this story includes a great deal of literary and intellectual license. I mean that I think I might know what is going on, the purpose and meaning in some of this suffering, but there is only one person who actually knows the truth: my Heavenly Father. I am glad that I found my voice in the darkness this evening. I am glad that I survived a wretched scene without too much damage or lingering baggage. I am grateful to have reconnected with Steve and that he could look beyond the ugliness to the beauty imbedded in this crazy journey together. I trust that the Lord will go before us in the next scene and lead us in His way everlasting for His purpose and glory. Lord willing it won’t be so bad next time.

Thank you, Jesus, for your redeeming grace. You make all the difference in the world for me, tonight and always. Thank you for your enduring mercy, giving me have the strength to do that to which you have called me (Philippians 4:13). Be my voice in the darkness and in the light. In Jesus’ name. Amen.