Time. It’s such a tricky thing.
Ten years is a long time, don’t you think? Although, I just turned fifty-five, so maybe it’s not that long after all. Time can be so relative. Yet something happened ten years ago, that changed me. Forever. That really is a long time.
Ten years ago, I sat in a doctor’s office. Not my GP. No, this doctor specialised in brains. He showed me a picture of mine. Using a black ballpoint pen, he pointed to some white marks on my brain.They reminded me a little of cauliflower buds. He called the marks scars. There were six or seven of them, I forget now, it was ten years ago.
He turned to me. “I’m sorry to tell you, but you have Multiple Sclerosis.” I don’t remember a lot more after that. I should have had hundreds of questions, don’t you think? Yet the only question I asked him was, “will I be able to walk at my daughter’s wedding?” My youngest daughter was twelve at the time. Funny really, how your brain operates in times of stress. My brain doctor answered me, “I don’t have a crystal ball, only time will tell.”
There it was again. Time.
That day ten years ago, kick-started a journey that I’d never before imagined. It took me on an emotional roller-coaster ride of a lifetime. “It’s not a death sentence” I told my Mother, “just a bit of a curve ball.” I started the injections, had trouble with site reactions, increased lethargy, and emotional outbursts became common. I went off the medication. I changed my diet. Went to bed earlier. I did what I could. Anyone can choose to make those changes. Yet, as time went on, I knew this was more than a ‘bump in the road’. I’d had a wake-up call. It shook me out of my complacency. Until ten years ago, I’d been unaware; I was blind to my weaknesses. I thought I was so strong. I was proud of it. I thought it God-honouring. But as I sought my God, though tears birthed from fear, I realised the obvious. I had no power to change this diagnosis. The Neurologist’s offering, “time will tell,” just didn’t cut it for me. I needed more assurance.
I went to my Maker. I didn’t ask for healing, although I told God it would be nice. Instead, I revisited a time, many years before, when I said “yes” to Jesus. It wasn’t super dramatic. I realised who had the power to save and it wasn’t me! Any power I have, let’s face it, is pretty pathetic really, compared to His! At that time, I’d said sorry for wanting to be independent of my Maker. I’d asked for forgiveness. He gave it. No questions asked. Just love. I told God I would follow Him. Who wouldn’t follow a love like that? So, here I was again, remembering my promise. Yes, I had MS, but it wasn’t the end. It’s only the end when God says it is. I said to God, “Alright, you’ve got my attention. With or without MS, I’m still going to follow you.” Blind faith? Yes, but I’ll take that kind of blindness any day, over the alternative.
Ten years later. Am I healed? The MRI I had a few weeks ago, still shows the little white cauliflower buds. They haven’t gone. I am encouraged though; there aren’t any new ones! My Neurologist (aka Brain doctor), scratches his head and says “it’s like you don’t have MS.” Yet he has the MRI to prove that I do. I’m believing that God is my healer. I’m walking it out! Time will tell. But I’m trusting in the One who created time. He’s outside of time. It’s tricky isn’t it?
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