The TTT

The Tilt Table Test (TTT) is designed to assess the integrity of a person’s autonomic nervous system. The heart plays a significant role in its function as does the vagus nerve. With so many organ systems tied into the sympathetic (fight of flight) and parasympathetic (calming) fibers of the vagus nerve, one can see how it can affect numerous aspects of a person’s health . . . and ability to function. This is complicated. A TTT may introduce more questions than answers yet sometimes provide the reason a person has not responded to other treatments for seizures. Today, I’m just glad that I survived!

The nurse or examiner administering the test begins by starting an IV in your arm. The patient needs to have been fasting for about 6 hours and cannot have anything to eat or drink until the test is completed as many folks will become nauseous. While there are variations of the TT Test involving medications that increase your heart rate, no medications were used for my test. The purpose of the IV is for the administration of fluids should your blood pressure drop. This usually happens if you faint during the test. If you do faint then your test is considered “positive” and the cardiologist makes his or her diagnosis from there.

The test procedure itself begins with the patient lying on his or her back for 15 minutes on a mechanical bed that tilts up and down from head to toe. Heavy straps are placed over your shins, thighs, and lower chest to prevent you from falling off of the exam table should you faint! (The examiner is supposed to lower the table in the event of a fainting spell, thus ending the test.) After the initial resting period and baseline testing of your vitals (EKG, pulse oximetery, blood pressure, and pulse), the table is inclined to 70 or 80 degrees instead of the 90 degrees our bodies are accustomed to when sitting or standing upright. You stay in this slightly reclined position for 45 minutes or until you faint. Then the table is lowered and you recover over the next 30-60 minutes. My test was scheduled for 1 1/2 to 2 hours. My husband and I left the hospital OVER FOUR HOURS LATER!!!

The nurse tried to start an IV in my right hand but was unsuccessful. The needlestick triggered a 30-minute convulsive episode. My husband applied an ice pack to my hand and eventually I stopped spontaneously seizing, uttering primal screams, and crying. My body was already starting to lose control, my brain felt like it was on fire, and I was unable to straighten my legs for the proper test positioning until the episode had stopped completely. The Charge Nurse came in, talked a lot, then was able to start an IV in my left hand. It hurt badly and this triggered another, less violent convulsive episode. By this time our personal ice pack was melted so the Charge Nurse applied a bag of ice bag over my left hand. Eventually I stopped seizing and crying. The nurse examiner tried to start the test while I was still shaking. I politely declined. He waited. Finally it was time to begin.

Jason RN, elevated the table to 80 degrees. Within about 5 minutes I started to feel lightheaded. My head was swirling inside in a clockwise direction that seemed to be from about the 2:00 position on a clock face to the midnight position. My body didn’t move. I can’t recall exactly which symptom happened next but I do remember that the straps across my shins started to hurt badly. I was placing more of my body weight against them as my legs began to get weak. This feeling of weakness was like water being drained out of a bathtub: little by little in a steady stream my strength was going away, beginning with my lower extremities and working its way upwards.

A few tic zips re-emerged probably 15 minutes into the test. The hospital pillow provided no head and neck support whatsoever. By the grace of God I had anticipated this and brought a neck pillow with me which remained after their hard pillow had fallen off of the table. It remained in place as the tic attack ramped up to an intensity similar to that of the needlesticks although more intermittently than continuous at this point. I started to become afraid of where this thing was headed. I worked as hard as I could to stay calm and not to panic. My body was going into a crisis as the number of symptoms increased along with their severity: headache, burning in the tips of my toes, burning in the tips of my fingers, stomach ache, left-sided neck pain, increased ringing in my ears, feeling chilled and having difficulty breathing. Jason kept asking me how I was feeling but it was getting more and more difficult to speak. Then things got worse.

Eventually my legs became lifeless. It took a heroic effort to straighten or reposition them to alleviate the searing pain against my shins: could I turn my feet out so the pressure was more on the inside of my lower legs? I tried that. Then that hurt too. I had to wait before I could try again. I tried switching back and forth but my ability to do so was failing. Finally I conceded that my legs were going to be bruised no matter what I did so I had to pick a position and stick with it. I found that if I locked my knees together and turned my toes inward, some of the strap pulled against my calves and less on the bony surface of the tibia. With that problem solved I tried to focus on my breathing. It seemed too shallow. Hmmm. What is going on? My body was slowly starting to slump forward like someone was pulling my head forward a quarter inch at a time on a cord. I could not stop it. Was I going to pass out?

Every 2 minutes or so, Jason asked me a question to see if I was still awake. Or maybe alive? My body continued to bend forward like a large sack of flour as my world felt like it was going dim, dimmer still. Around this time I asked how much time was left, we were past the halfway point, yet time had started to stand still. My hunkering down for the duration of the test changed to wondering if I would pass out like I had in bed so many times after bad episodes. When those happen I don’t remember falling asleep. The lights just go out and I wake up hours later with no memory of dreaming, just pain everywhere from head to toe. So if I wasn’t going to pass out this time maybe I could fall asleep?

I tried to let myself go. I was terrified. I was crying. The tears burned on my face. Hair brushing against the side of my cheeks felt itchy-burny. It was all I could do to raise my right arm to wipe my face with my sleeve or move the hair scratching my face to stop the annoyance, the irritating sensations of anything touching my face. And then it was nearly impossible to breathe with the strap cutting underneath my ribs, restricting my diaphragm. I kept saying that I couldn’t breathe. “It’s hard to breathe.” The test continued. “How much time left?” I mumbled. I don’t remember the answer. My husband Steve later confirmed the feeling I had that the left side of my faced was drooping. My tongue felt thick and I couldn’t move it to speak very well. It’s as if the lights were going out on my life. I was not going to faint as can happen with this test. I was going to die.

That’s when my thoughts turned to my Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ, dying on a cross for my salvation. In that moment I got a tiny view into His suffering at Calvary. Crucifixion was designed for maximum suffering until the convicted person died of asphyxiation. The convict would push up on his feet against the wood footplate to catch a gasp of air; in doing so this sent lightening bolts of fiery pain through the body from the nails piercing the nerves and tendons of the feet and hands that bore the weight of his entire body. The body would sag down then perhaps the head would hang as the person longed for death to end the most gruesome misery imaginable. But hanging one’s head obstructed the airway. There was no relief to be found. And our Lord did this for me. The guards pierced His side to make sure Jesus was dead. Through it all, Jesus declined the gall herb offered to ease his pain. He endured it all with a clear mind in a body already beaten and shredded beyond recognition before He was crucified! And then He finished the work of the Cross when He rose again on Easter Sunday. He overcame death and provided a path for all believers to receive eternal life, to be free one day of all suffering and consequences of sin in this fallen world.

cross, calvary, testimony, hospital test, Christian woman, chronic illness, endurance

My recognizing my need for a Savior and accepting His sacrifice years ago thus hath provided a way for me to endure my suffering on that Monday at the hospital. Whether I was going to die, or pass out, or make it to the end of the test fully awake and aware of my surroundings, I was going to be walking with my Jesus through it all. He was there with me in that moment when I simply could not breathe anymore and when the table finally lowered me to safety. In a matter of seconds, the test was over. I endured the TTT and got what I was supposed to understand about my suffering that is coming up on 9 years. Also finally, a medical test actually captured with objective data the hell that I have endured. My heart rate did increase and blood pressure drop although not extremely so. I had marked symptoms. I believe that it was a positive test even though I did not faint. For some reason the Lord kept me awake hanging there as far over as the straps would allow without fainting or dying. In my mind I was just about gone for good. In the Lord’s will, I made it through the most difficult of hundreds of tests in my lifetime.

But it wasn’t over yet. As soon as I was level, my body exploded into the most violent of convulsing that would happen that afternoon matched with gutteral screams, hysterical crying, and gasps for air. I held on for dear life. The episode continued for the next 90 minutes or so while I pleaded with the nurse to call the cardiologist to order IV fluids then check my blood sugar: 76. Thirty minutes into the non-stop convulsing, the infusion started and began to calm me down; it took a snack bar plus another 30 minutes before they would stop completely. I was a beaten puppy, so very broken and battered by the time it was over. The 90-minute infusion restored me enough to speak coherently and walk to the bathroom then later into our truck under my own power, albeit weakly. Over the next 2 days I stabilized. I still feel “buzzed” 3 days after the TTT. I’m also irritated that I don’t have my test results yet as promised. Sigh. That’s healthcare these days. I found out that Jason, RN had only done 10 of these tests since he was transferred to the Heart Institute from ICU a month prior. He was very nice. Regardless, I doubt he should have left me hanging there gasping for air, completely slumped over and hanging from the straps of the tilt table for several minutes. The goal is not to traumatize and torture the patient! I am still horrified by what I endured. I’ve had numerous bouts of crying as my mind flashed back to the ordeal, slowly emerging from a state of shock.

So if you found this blog after Googling “Tilt Table Test” well what can I say? This is probably one of the worst stories out there so don’t worry about it. Yours will very likely be fine. I didn’t vomit and that is good. The TTT results will very likely answer some important questions about my condition, maybe even point the Doctors to a treatment plan that will stop the daily convulsive episodes once and for all. The role of the autonomic nervous system in non-epileptic seizures has never been more clear for me as I start to benefit from targeted vagus nerve stimulation techniques and tools. Even the TMJ/trigeminal nerve interventions are related. Virtually everything I have done to date to try and get well has yielded valuable information if not improvements and personal growth. I have never felt closer to the loves in my life which is valuable indeed. My Stevers continues to be my hero through it all. In the end, the Lord will not waste any of our suffering, joys, or sorrows in His wondrous plans for our lives. Hang on, Gentle Reader. Hang on to that Cross! JJ

Dealing with the trauma of illness

Not that I have a total handle on this topic or anything but hey, I have learned a few things worth sharing . . .

Every day for over 5 years I have suffered waking seizure attack episodes of varying duration and intensity.  For over a year (ending last year) they averaged 2 to 5 hours per day!  At least once per month they would spike up to 12 hours on and off in a single day, sometimes requiring an Emergency Room intervention.  I have been to 3 different emergency rooms a total of FIFTEEN TIMES including once by ambulance.  After nearly a year of IV antibiotics for chronic Lyme disease these episodes are generally less than an hour per day now with some positive changes in triggers and patterning.  Significant testing and other treatments, research, and patient “networking” remain my primary occupation.  I am grateful for the improvements that have come including overall less pain from the repeated physical trauma of “head-banging” and wretched writhing movements (thanks to  periodic intervals of physical therapy and periodic chiropractic adjustments).

The journey is hell at times.  At my worst times I have questioned if I could endure this level of suffering one more moment.  My breathing has stopped numerous times and there has been one significant near-death experience with visions of “white lights.”  I have had to pray many times for the Lord to give me the strength to get to the bathroom when alone during hours of convulsive episodes.  Every type of healthcare provider I have ever seen and most close friends and family has witnessed them.  My husband is a saint, having cared for me often late into the night then getting up and going to work the next day.   A total of probably a hundred times he has had to carry me across our home when I could not walk, feed me, take me to the bathroom, assist me with bathing, take me to the emergency room, run urgent errands, and the like as my primary caregiver.  Probably a thousand times he has volunteered to bring me some type of “rescue remedy” to attempt to get the seizures to stop (generally at night or upon waking in the morning).  He never complains.  He is my hero for sure.

In other blogs you will read about all the avenues we have pursued to try and get me well:  chronic Lyme disease, heavy metal detox, mold remediation, obscure infections, dietary restrictions, neurology workups, dental issues, nutritional deficiencies, epigenetic testing and coaching, electrosmog, gut issues, yada, yada, yada.  I spend hours per week researching, managing my healthcare, dealing with extreme mold avoidance and other preventative strategies, and accessing my support system online or by phone.  Church worship is also online to minimize triggers from environmental stimuli, however this strategy also increases my social isolation.  Trips away from home are generally focused on essentials during my best times of day and occasionally with transportation help from a couple of sweet gals from church.  I wear a mask in their cars and sit on a towel covering the passenger seat but we find a way to connect anyways during those trips when help is needed about once per month.

As you can see, there is much abby-normal stuff during my days.  Social isolation and the ongoing seizure attacks are my biggest heartaches.  The latter causes both physical and emotional trauma when they are severe which still happens two of the seven days per week still marked by ongoing episodes.  The two this week included:  1) a violent reaction to an ingredient in an new injected medication that I need to treat osteoporosis and 2) a new strategy to treat severe Small Intestinal Bacterial Overgrowth.  Both of these conditions very likely are complications of ongoing illness as they were not present before I got sick on October 11, 2011.  Each new diagnosis will bring its own special kind of discouragement if I don’t keep my worries in check with my hopes placed in the redemption promised with belief in Jesus Christ.  Already I mentioned a few of the strategies I use for managing the social isolation.  What about the trauma?

I manage the trauma of severe, ongoing illness by trusting in my Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ.  This used to mean that I trusted in the promise of Jeremiah 29:11:

11 For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.  (NIV)

Surely if there is a purpose for all of this suffering then it won’t be wasted.  It becomes part of a greater plan, encouraging me enough to endure even the worst of the pain and anguish I am enduring.  This viewpoint has helped me cope during the first 5 1/2 years of this illness.  It carried me through the decisions to spend the rest of some savings with the hope of a cure and to endure the side effects of such treatments.  I can look back and point to the skills and information that I have learned, write about them here, take to heart the remarks of others encouraged by my stories, and note the Divine sequencing of many things that have happened along the way.  The Lord has provided so much for my care that gratitude has replaced temporary doubts, frustration, discouragement, intractable pain, and so on.  Seeing some meaning in what I am going through or shortly thereafter, gave both me and Steve enough hope to keep moving forward no matter what the “cost” may be.  But what about when the process stopped?  The money ran out.  I am not recovered.  There was no where else to go this past Winter when I got to the bitter end of my proverbial rope with worse symptoms than I could ever imagine!  Yeah, that was the onset of facial shingles in December.  More hell and a hospitalization too.

That’s when I needed to learn to trust whether there would be a purpose I could see or if there would be no purpose or direction at all.  I discovered that complete trust in our Heavenly Father builds faith and the strength to carry each of us through ANYTHING and EVERYTHING.  It’s a supernatural gift bestowed upon believers in God Almighty who trust Him.  For those of us chosen to travel a path of excruciating suffering, we must find our way to this level of trust in the Lord our God.  Our faith will grow as a result and both will carry us through the dark times no matter how dark they become.  Did I tell you that frightful demonic attacks have come during the worst of the waking seizures?  Yes.  It’s more terrifying than I can describe but may try to do so another time.   At those times only the spiritual armor of God (see Ephesians 6:10-18) and this reassurance spoken by the apostle Paul will quiet my spirit.  God is greater than any threat in this world, in my world, period.

2 Timothy 1:7  (NKJV)

For God has not given us a spirit of fear, but of power and of love and of a sound mind.

Because what is my worst fear anyways?  Dying?  For me it is probably not dying but suffering even more with dying as the end result.  So finding peace when dealing with the trauma of physical and mental suffering must be accompanied by the reminders of Who overcame death, in Whom have I placed my trust, and in Whom will I find victory over my fears.  To extinguish the fearful thoughts I must again turn to the “sword of the Spirit” as described in Ephesians 6:17 as the word of God.  In the Book of John we find Jesus comforting a grieving friend when:

John 11:25-26 (NIV)

25 Jesus said to her, “I am the resurrection and the life. The one who believes in me will live, even though they die; 26 and whoever lives by believing in me will never die. Do you believe this?”

Not only did Jesus overcome the grave when He rose from the dead on Resurrection Sunday (Easter), He gave those who believe in Him the promise of a glorious eternal life in His presence where there will be no more weeping, no more sorrows.  There will be rewards for the faithful too.  There will be perfect peace, love, and joy forever.

the cross

I may never see healing this side of heaven.  I may see healing this side of heaven.  I really have no idea which one it will be or when it will happen.  In the meantime I will simply trust in Jesus Christ who knows my name and sees my suffering (Psalm139) and ordains it somehow for good.  He will be here with me always.  I ain’t dead yet so I trust that He will add His grace and power to see me through to my last breath.  Until then Gentle Reader I ask you,

Do you believe this too?

A Tender Place

Hellebores, hybrid, tender, lenten rose, blog, poetry, prose, Winter, early Spring

So if the Lenten rose can bloom amidst the snow

Yet if I not carry forth my joy past the continuing rain

Does that make me a bad person, my beloved, my dear?

He told his tale with passion once and again and again

Yet I have not seen the same victory these many years

Does that make me ungrateful before my Savior, my King?

To celebrate this one’s renewed life, ’twas hard-won indeed

Doth makes me part of this man’s humanity in Christ

Yes, takes little, no none from my own pool of goodness . . .

And yet I cried and pushed myself away, away for a time

Lest my tears steal more than the punch line to come,

Dost my ingrace keep me from moving forward one day?

Aye this is a tender place whereat I have landed

Not bad, non-indifferent, full of meaning that I like

Where life meets the road upon which it travels and perceives.

My Lord knows this woe:  He cried for the sorrows we do endure

Then gave the breath from His very lips so that we may live,

Be free of it all at last, the strife, every bit, you and I both.

For we two understand what it means to face death

To fear the life places that would ignite some others to thrive

But it took a tragedy beyond belief to get us moving right.

We may have wrestled then let go as our Redeemer carried us along

Finding one day that peace hath returned:  covering the tenderness

Becoming the places that defined us whilst ending the story done well.

[My hope is that I am in one of them right now, Gentle Reader.]  JJ

White light and angels

They were tall, white angelic beings moving towards me amidst a glow of an even brighter light.  I did not understand what was happening at the time as I was just waiting there with the figures floating towards me.  More of them were to the right than to the left; or maybe I could not see them as if blinded by sunlight.   But this was not sunlight.

I sensed them coming closer, around behind my right arm as if to escort me somewhere.  I began to drift forward.  Then I stopped.  Why had I stopped?  Was not this the right way to go?  And then the words spoken to me were felt more than heard:  it is not time yet.  And they were gone.  No light.  No angels.  Just the darkened images remained inside my mind that are always there when one’s eyes are closed.  When I opened my eyes I saw the inside of the camper all around me.  Most importantly, I WAS ALIVE!

Quickly realizing what had just happened, I groaned for strength deep within me that was not available in my listless frame.  “I have to open the windows!” I exclaimed inside my head.  Horror nearly immobilized me.  Could I do it?  Could I reach it?  Which window?  How do I open them?  Let’s see, first I have to get up on my elbows to push myself up.  Then lean forward to create momentum and reach out my arms to grab the back of the dinette.  Slide forward and get my legs onto the floor to bear weight to stand.  There, that’s it.

By the grace of God I was able to get the window opened and reach up to open the ceiling vent further before carefully collapsing back into bed.  “Just avoid hitting your head on the bunk over you,” I thought to myself.  Soon I could feel the rush of cool, fresh air on my face and arms.  I took in a deep breath, reviving further.  I was going to be o.k.  Sigh.  What the heck had happened to me?

Some might call it a near-death experience.  Others might label such an experience as a hallucination from toxic fumes.  I prefer to call it an experience in another dimension that I cannot fully explain.   Perhaps a second chance at life.  For several hours prior to this vision of sorts in my “mind’s eye” (not really seen as I looked around and not really imagined with my eyes closed) I had struggled with seizure attacks and convulsions.  This happens about every week or so that I endure much of a day with continuous noxious episodes.  This past weekend landed me with two days like this in a row!  Such is life in the mysterious world of mercury and unknown toxicity.  The typical episode triggers of hunger, thirst, needing to void, feeling cold, fragrances, waking up, falling asleep, mold, or food sensitivities did not apply that day.

We had arrived in Alabama at about 4:00 a.m. after over 15 hours of travelling by truck, towing our travel trailer cross-country.  Temperatures the next day were still around 40 degrees in the deep South when my beloved ventured off to see his son-n-wife at Fort Rucker Army base nearby.  It was usual for me to stay behind after long ventures to rest up, hoping to visit with everyone later the next day.  After sleeping about 7 hours I had made myself a breakfast of my special diet leftovers and yummy coconut almond milk.  My tummy was satisfied yet I still felt groggy so I returned to our comfy bed.  Gratitude filled my thoughts for having a safe place in which to retreat with all the provisions that I would need away from home . . .

Clearly some provisions I did not need after all!  Our crochety campground water spicket was frozen solid so we were unable to hook-up fresh water to the camper and use the toilet as designed.  Gratefully some of our emergency gallons of water were starting to thaw so we had a reserve for flushing the toilet and drinking the next morning.  But unfortunately since we had departed from the frigid North the day before, we had to take our entire journey with a camper still winterized with “non-toxic” RV antifreeze.  All of the drains and toilets were still filled with the scent of the pink stuff.  Not thinking about the mixing of products, we used some windshield washer fluid to flush the toilet a couple of times.  Then when I was concerned that the toilet waste solids would congeal, I tossed in a Bio enzyme pack, earth friendly of course, with barely a scent of pine or something.  Pink and blue and green make . . . ?  Something not nice, I now understand!

Before we crashed into bed, we had already opened the overhead vents to help control condensation inside our unit.  What I did not realize is that a window I had also opened in the morning was above the venting for the propane furnace!  I’m not sure what chemical compounds might have made their way back into our living space since the carbon monoxide detector had not been activated.  Maybe I just don’t do well with propane gas altogether.  Who knows?  What I do know is that the noxious mixture nearly sent me to heaven!

Sadly after eating that morning it was all I could do to get to the bathroom and collapse onto the bed instead of the floor.  I could not, did not move for a very long time.  Slow thoughts of my inability to move, recognition of my awkward positioning, wondering how long Steve would be gone, the location of my cell phone all dawdled through my head.  And they stayed there.  There was nothing I could do about anything and I wasn’t even sure exactly what to do anyways.  My thoughts were dulled into a kind of motionlessness that was similar to my poisoned body.  In time the white light and angels came.  In time I was able to get up as described earlier.  In time Steve came home and found a broken shell of a woman recovering quietly in our bed.  Many tears followed.

*************************************

Death is a funny thing.  You think you know all about it from watching others pass away then transitioning into a waxy state lying in a wooden box placed in a funeral home parlor decorated like an old rerun of The Beverly Hillbillies.  Sermons, Biblical passages, and Christian authors have much to say about this life and the next but until you face it yourself the words simply won’t mean much.  The unexpected BENEFIT of having a severe illness that brings daily seizure attacks and convulsions is that every day I get to face death in addition to the newness of life.  My breathing stops and it starts back up again.  From a spiritual standpoint, THIS IS NOT A BAD THING!  As a result, each day I take practically nothing for granted as life and some goodness are imparted to me.  This process is extremely humbling.  I have also learned that death is not something to be feared . . .

Many years ago a friend, Louise, shared with me an audio tape of Pastor David Jeremiah in which he stated,

“God’s man in the center of God’s will is immortal until God is through with him.”

Oh yes.  I have now lived through many brushes with death and seen this to be true!  So where do I go from here?  I’m not quite sure, really.  What I am sure of is that I will probably write about it!  You will be the first to know my beloved Gentle Reader when the inspiration comes.  Until then how about if we keep the windows open on the opposite side of the furnace, take care of ourselves as best we can and keep our eyes fixed on the Lord.  The light of His love will surely shine upon us all the days of our lives until He calls us home.  As for me, I will be ready.  How about you?  JJ

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For this I have seen

The darkest time of night

Brings hope in ways not the norm:

When breathing is restored and the room stands still

My mind clears and my Lord speaks in ways never heard before.

He knows my frame

And delivers me once again

With less pain overall these days

And more wisdom than trauma for all the suffering.

For alas I can go

To such a wretched place

Time and again whilst wondering “why?”

Only to find hidden answers just for me, in the those tender places.

Not all makes sense

And that can be o.k. in the end

When I know the Lord is at the helm

And uses my suffering for His glory, my healing, to bring light, and more.

No, it was not wasted

When I found you who came along

This way with me where the blackest times of night

Served to shine streams of sunshine into days once lived in shades of gray.

Oh to keep mediocrity!

That would be dreadful indeed.

To never see beyond vanilla, boring landscapes

Creeping traffic in the middle lane when the Audubon beckons in a Ferrari 458.

Mach 1 with your hair aflame

Is bound to singe your eyebrows too

But how will you know if you are truly alive my dear

If you have not seen, tasted death along the edges of life truly lived whoot, whoot?

Because when it is over

A job will be waiting for you as me:

To tell our stories to those stuck in the dark

Or on an exit ramp on the wrong road they once thought went nowhere too.

There is always more

Even when our breaths are numbered

When we each see the door to the last destination

And can no longer wonder if we did too much or too little when our past cannot change.

The door to eternity awaits us both dear one:

With adventure of which we cannot conceive;

A place filled with wonder and no more tears

Where our heart will be home, finally, at last.

Will you risk this to be true and come to Him?

Will you lay down your fight, the need to know

To let Jesus Christ be your true reason to live:

The Alpha and Omega, the beginning and end.

Even when in our hearts we must let Him reign

Leading our thoughts and quieting all our fears

Adding His increase when no strength remains.

Finding this kind of peace transcends all we see:

We will find more than the mind can imagine for

We will live at peace I tell you for this I have seen.

:JJ

 

diaperthongGotcha!  ;J