Will you remember me when your last breath reminds you there is none left?
If a baby bunny can nourish itself from my well-tendered garden intended for me
Could the disease inside of me eat away at my strength til there is none left to redeem?
Yeah that last one doesn’t encourage me much so I better stop right there. I’m struggling to make sense of the 12 hours of seizure attacks that ended yesterday. Periodic re-occurrences continued of course leaving me afraid to go to bed whenever I got brave enough to go to bed. Wretchedness with writhing, head-banging, moaning, and more greet me in the first stages of “sleep” every night. Make sense out of that one! These episodes make me suspicious of anything that might trigger them. Inside my heart I am angry, I am hurt. I am exasperated. I am . . .
I am in need of renewal inside and out. Where are you Lord? Fill my spirit with your unending grace. Please make your presence known such that I might endure, recover from this hell. I submit to You my king. There is none like You. For your glory. Amen. JJ
As I described in my post on May 28th, becoming a kayaker mid-life can be a daring adventure. When your intended beloved becomes a United States Canoe Association racer (State and now Nationally-ranked) you have a couple of decisions to make. The first one was whether or not I would also learn to kayak. Would I become a “kayaking widow” a couple of nights per week as my River Bear practices then races throughout the State of Indiana? The second one is if I did paddle, what kind of kayaker would I become? Recreational? Racer? Eeeeek, no!
Steve dons his dry suit here in the Midwest by about April or as soon as there is open water in our local rivers after the long Winter. Initially he would borrow my Think Fit (sea kayak) to start his season as it was more stable and forgiving when wearing this neck-to-toe zoot suit. As the weather warmed up he transitioned to either his Thunderbolt (open cockpit racing kayak) or surf ski (sit-on-top ocean vessel) as I reclaimed the Think Fit to join him with our Tuesday night Fort Wayne Kayaking Group. As I described in my previous post, one of the fears a paddler must overcome is that of falling into the water and drowning. To help guard against this outcome you can wear a paddling life vest, choose a more stable boat, or upgrade to a surf ski. When you topple out of a surf ski you will have a much easier time re-entering the boat, especially in deeper water. The kayak won’t fill up with water since the hull is a closed system. This provides you an excellent flotation device to hang onto should you topple over, until you can either re-mount the boat or swim with it to safety. This surf ski design began to look appealing to me in my second season of paddling. So did having a kayak that was even lighter and narrower making it easier to paddle.
You could say that I was the first in the Midwest to bring home a Think Fit and then a Stellar SR. In time the introduction of the Stellar line would open up opportunities for my River Bear, Steve, to become a representative for both Stellar and Epic kayaks here in Indiana. Cool beans. Wifey-poo done good! I had so many offers to purchase the Think Fit that it wasn’t hard to sell it when a suitable Stellar SR became available. Our friend Allan took to it easily and made waves, literally, that I could have never accomplished as a recreational paddler. My baby found a good home and served her new racer well. He even won a medal at his first Nationals in his age class: his first year competing and finishing in a torrential thunderstorm! Ah, the things that become normal when racing enters your life. Yes of course we were cheering him on equally drenched at the finish!
At first I doubted my decision to upgrade to a beginner surf ski. Sure there would be a learning curve but when my maiden voyage in a friend’s private ski lake yielded a nearly effortless glide with my winged carbon-fiber paddle, I thought I “knew” that I had made the right decision. Or did I? I can recall nearly panicking as I paddled between lakes in a local chain-o-lakes: my legs outstretched and straddling either side of the boat for stability. What had I done? The cross-winds were fierce in open water! Forget the great secondary stability it’s the initial stability that I was sorely missing! Once in the channel I could calm down a bit. Whew. “This is going to take some practice,” I muttered to myself. But was that what I wanted as a recreational paddler? Not really. I like to stop and grab a drink of water or bite of a snack bar along the way in addition to taking advantage of navigating a more streamlined, lighter vessel. Learning the sport from my racer husband had landed me in unfamiliar territory for sure! Now that Allan had already bonded with the Think Fit there was no use looking back to my first love (the kayak, that is!). Back to the calmer lake we went for more practice before the next outing . . .
Julie in the Stellar SR
The Fort Wayne Kayaking Group was headed to the Cedarville Reservoir in Leo, Indiana early in October. The boat launch just over the bridge provides access to the St. Joe River to the north and to the reservoir to the south. Later Steve would remind me that my first paddle when we were dating was in that reservoir. Sweet. Now it was three years later in the Fall: October 11, 2011 to be exact. I did pretty well that beautiful night for my third outing in the Stellar SR, continuing to wear a life vest for added security. Unfortunately I made 4 costly mistakes that evening. First, I let the mouth of my water bottle make contact with the greenish water. Second, I ate a snack that I had saved in the zippered pouch of my life vest even though it had become a little mushy, perhaps melted. I was hungry and it hit the spot! Third, a winged paddle tends to throw a lot of water into the air, particularly for beginners just learning the more efficient racing stroke for which it is designed, which also sent blue green algae aerosols into the air. And fourth, I doubt that I washed my hands after we loaded up the boats and sampled one of the member’s luscious peanut butter cookies she often brought to top off the Tuesday night paddles. Within 24 hours I was deathly ill and it was not from the cookie!
Within 36 hours I thought I was going to die. Seriously. Have you ever been in so much pain that all you can do is moan, holler, and moan in agony some more? After the second trip to the doctor’s office that week, he sent me to the emergency room for IV fluids mixed with anti-nausea medication. We figured by then that it was from something in the water but what could it be? The weekend was hell on earth. In between vomiting, diarrhea, nausea, and unbelievable abdominal pain eventually my brain started to put the pieces together in what was left of my mind. Early the next week some blind internet searching found a report documenting the testing of Indiana rivers and lakes. In a chart written in 2005 describing various cyanobacteria populating stagnant waters in the Spring and Fall I found it: cylinderospermopsis. I matched all of the symptoms listed for exposure. The treatment? “Supportive measures” as needed. I already had that. What else? I didn’t need the other recommendation thankfully: intubation or life support. My liver enzymes were elevated but that didn’t indicate any additional treatment at the time. These days I wish that I had been administered activated charcoal back then. Oh well. It’s amazing what 2 1/2 more years of research yields that could have been helpful at the beginning of this exceedingly difficult journey.
I never paddled the Stellar SR again. Here’s a picture of me in the one that has now gotten away. We never fully bonded. I never fully mastered her. ‘Tis bittersweet you might say for the wife of a kayak racer. I had learned so much and come so far since my maiden voyage in that plastic Sirocco in the summer of 2007 only to stop as they say, “dead in the water.”
Julie in the SR in early October 2011
The next 2 1/2 years was a wretched process trying to figure out why I wasn’t getting well. Was it Chronic Lyme disease? Biotoxin illness such as cyanobacteria and mold? Non-epileptic seizures? For more on finding hope during the medical part of this story just scroll through this blog a bit for the good/bad/ugly of overcoming a serious illness. As for kayaking and while the battle continues today, there have been enough recent improvements that I am able to get back into the water for limited outings. I am exceedingly grateful for the improvements. The Lord appears to be restoring the years the “locusts” (as in pesky little cyano-bugs) have eaten (Joel 2:25), slowly but surely. He has sustained me through this hellish journey and many nights home alone while I supported Steve in his continuing to progress as a USCA racer. He has done well and I am proud of him. That’s the benefit for me of having a Heavenly Husband at home with me in my heart while my earthly husband is away. It works that way for us gals whether we are married or single. It’s all good: whether or not you are with your paddling buddy or not you are never really alone when you have Jesus in your heart.
My watercraft of choice has now changed. When I did try to sit in the cockpit of the Stellar SR, I realized that my balance skills were now altered. How in the world would I ever enjoy paddling a tippier kayak with an altered center of gravity? It was just too much for me. But I also did not want to go backwards into a heavier, wider, shorter sea kayak either. I had tasted the sweetness of performance race boats and longed to be with Steve back out on the water. The lighter kayaks and paddles made this all possible in the first place, minimizing the stress of my underlying fibromyalgia. I would have never been able to paddle in the past due to chronic pain. My Stevers had helped me find a way. Now could we find a way to get me back on the water again?
By this time we were grateful to have acquired a tandem outrigger canoe. The first time out in the OC-2 after the onset of the recent illness were meaningful minutes and happened at the end of last summer. We went out again on our friend’s ski lake earlier this year and even took it to the smaller Oliver chain-o-lakes last month. Yes, my first outing in 3 summers happened a couple of weeks ago! Having a River Bear at the helm made it all possible as I could rest in the front seat when needed. THAT was an emotional day for sure: tears of joy to be out again and tears of sorrow for all of the lost time.
The question remained as to what would I paddle solo? Could I even paddle solo? The answer came with our one-man outrigger canoe. She is beautiful. In carbon fiber she weighs in at 22 pounds despite her 21 foot overall length. And she looks so very cool too. Oh how I love Steve! I get to do so many cool things because of him! Anyways, here’s a picture of the boat I will be paddling, Lord willing, as I get stronger. These days I still have seizure attacks every day, including in the evening after paddling for awhile. I’m not sure yet how to modulate this other than making sure my body temperature doesn’t fluctuate, stay hydrated and nourished, and avoid contact with nefarious waters underfoot! Oh well. The answer to the unknowns lie in the Lord’s hands. I’ll just go slow and remain grateful to be paddling a bit once again.
See there? Who says you can’t paddle an ocean-faring outrigger canoe in the Midwest? Just like the Think Fit then the Stellar SR, sometimes you get to start a crazy trend that works for you and others follow along too. Good ideas breed good company. Thank you Lord. Guess it was meant to be. God is so good. All the time. God is good!
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 treeoflife, 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
8:30 a.m. The big guy has finally finished praying, eating out of a tiny bowl, and remembered the fuzzy one at his feet. Yippee! It’s time for mad dashes across the yard at Top Gun speed in the cool air that I really like. The tall one thinks I really like that neon green ball but really it’s the hip massages I crave that follow when I roll onto my back at just the right moment. Roll over too soon and the scratches will barely reach my undercoat. Submit too late and he mutters something about work as our bonding time ends. HEY, I LIVE FOR THIS! What else is there in a dog’s life?
8:45 a.m. No way the dude got as tall as he is with the dry nuggets he feeds me. Better check out what’s in that little black bowl on the table when he’s in my storm shelter (aka bathroom) later. Finally it’s time to eat again, gourmet Purina Select for my allergies, but it’s chump change for a pup with discerning tastes. Oh well. I’ll see what I can charm out of the girly one when she appears after my post-breakfast nap.
9:00 a.m. I watch out the window as my buddy leaves in the bat mobile with funky racks on the roof and a grumbling noise that’s worse than me. Sigh. Who knows when the girly one will find me lying here in the laundry room. Better position myself so I can see her when she comes for me yet still defend my turf if needed. My eyes may be covered with furry lids yet I know when that beastly garbage truck, UPS invader, yellow child carrier, meter reader or anyone else threatens my territory. Time to go to work or is it sleep? They will never know!
9:30 a.m. Looks like the girly one has entered my zone here at the front of the house but she is ignoring me already. “Hi Elle” doesn’t cut it when my ears need scratching! Sometimes she gives me a teaser then goes and washes her hands in the perennial water bowl on the counter. Nice sentiment! I never brush my teeth when I lick your pants do I? Those earthlings just don’t get it. My mouth is cleaner than a baby’s bottom! Just ask G.J., the mutt that used to lick your grandmother’s feet every night. Heaven for both of them for sure.
10:00 a.m. More food smells fill my nose! Sometimes she’s eating in the unauthorized zone for me, in the back of the house somewhere and sometimes she’s out here with me in the kitchen. I like it when I am within range of the good stuff. She eats meat for breakfast and that is what I like too. I often get a fat scrap to tide me over until they almost forget to feed me in the evening. I really need to unionize or file a complaint about that one. I am on watch at this point. The girly one is up and I am a shepherd. I will protect her from anyone that drives into the courtyard that needs my scolding. Warning: “come near and I will eat you!” or at least it’s going to sound like it when you come near. That’s just the way it goes with bigger pups like yours truly.
11:00 a.m. Now where did she go? Hey, it’s still puppy play time! What about me? Sish. She’s gone back to the unknown zone in the back where I am not allowed to roam. Things get really quiet when she is back there. She’s still got that fake fur light blue coat on so maybe she is taking her own post-breakfast nap. Humans! Who can figure them out? Better believe that she will reappear if my barking is convincing enough. Hmmmmm. I could mess with her on this one a bit. And maybe I have . . . .
2 or 3 or 4:00 p.m. If she is still here and hasn’t left me stranded in my boring dog zone in the kitchen, the girly one is back. Yes! That means it’s time to go outside if I haven’t gone earlier. Sometimes she makes me wait a long time. Good thing I’m not on a potty schedule or anything. Gotta time these slurps of day-old water just right. (Not that I mind day-old water. Mud puddle, bird bath, pond scum, water dish are all the same to me!) If I am really cute maybe she will play with me a little longer or take me for a ride in the giant metal pet carrier on wheels. Well I am just going to sit here with my ball beyond the property line where she has tossed it and give her my best silhouette. It’s kind of like being obedient. She doesn’t know that it is a game with me. Who wins is the one who gets to play longer. If I come back right away after squirting the grass then she will usually toss the ball for me a couple more times. Win-win. I’m a dog and I’m not concerned about her afternoon appointments. It’s play time!
7-9:00 p.m. Rarely do I get to go anywhere in the evening unless short stuff takes me for a walk. When she grabs that black leash I am in heaven! Otherwise if they have stranded me for the day, it’s nearly dark when my peeps return with bags of stuff that rarely contains food for me. What a waste! Take me with you next time! I’ll sniff out the best deals! Oh well. At least they take me for a bathroom run again and let me run around the yard a bit before dark. The winter time is best for this when that white stuff is on the ground. I LIVE FOR SNOW! The big guy puts on his paw extensions and we go for long slides around my watering hole out back. IT’S THE BOMB! In the warmer months I get to do pretty much whatever I want while either the tall dude is pushing a buzzing snack shaver around my yard or the shorter one is digging up stuff, playing with my watering wand, or kicking me out of bunny sniffing zones. Paws are better for digging dontcha know and I have an underground condo to prove it! Alas, I love being outside. It’s where I was born and where I belong. However I’d really rather be with these oddballs without fur (except the big guy who has a wimpy version compared to me) so I go in when I am called. It’s my duty as their pup!
10:00 p.m. My masters sit and eat in front of me and never feed me from the table. What a rip off! It’s not like I can’t smell it you know! Later when they remember that I am hungry too (I am not just being cute: I am trying to tell you something!), they dump some more MRE rations in my bowl. Hey throwing it on the floor would be more fun really. Whatever. When the girly one gives me some skin, as in chicken skin, I am in heaven. This when I know I am truly alive. Then they wrestle with me and I pretend to chew on their paws. Yeah, they really love me. Even if they cut back on the tartar control mix they call dinner, to keep me a lean, mean, fighting machine — I don’t mind. The rabbits get a better run when I have a waist don’t you know?
11:00 p.m. At last. More dog time with my master. Oh the girly one thinks she has my heart cause she pets me when we are home alone or up late at night. Yeah but it’s the big dude that sets me straight and that is cool with me. I get a little wild sometimes in my canine heart that wants to run freeeeeeeee! His discipline is firm. This is how I know he loves me and wants to protect me as much as I want to protect him. I don’t really want to get squashed in the street you know as I chase the kids on their bikes. Maybe it looks like I don’t know what I am doing? That is not the case. I am a smart German shepherd and I am always on alert don’t you know. Just watch me sitting at the edge of the yard sometimes, placing my furry tush between them and any potentially offending intruder. One false move and I will let them know who is boss. Well, at least my bark will say that I am da boss!
Wee hours of the a.m. This is a strange time in my den. The girly one has been up with me until nearly daylight for the past 2 years. Sometimes I hear her crying in distress and it breaks my puppy heart. I am worried about her and I know she sees it in my face. The look is good for a scratch behind the ears too. “Puppy therapy” she calls it when I see her a little later. Whew! I sigh with relief that she’s o.k. I don’t know how she does it every night. Maybe she will get better and sleep more like me. I think it’s starting to happen but I can’t be sure. It’s a dog’s life and I live in the moment. Besides, dozing, sleeping, listening with my eyes closed is a full-time job you know. She used to do stuff outside our den most days of the week. Oh well. For now she’s here with me, most days and every night and I love her. The big guy is pretty cool too. He is rough with me and I like it. Such a nice blend. They make a great couple. Oh well. What do I know?
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.
Jesus is for the Wounded 
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