I guess the title of this post is a bit of a give away as to the end result, but stick with me here, I promise you it will be worth it.
Many kind people tell me that they pray things will get better, or they pray for a positive outcome of test results. It's taken me a long time to ask that people pray not for a specific result but that I'm blessed with the strength to survive through these tests in life.
When my health began to fail me and it's fair to say my faith was tested. I used to feel very angry at god for putting me through such pain but then I realised that I was angry at god because I cared about our relationship. It was this realisation that makes me seek a deeper understanding of my faith. Every song we sang in church, every sermon that was preached felt like god had written it exactly for me at that moment.
It was this understanding that lead to my baptism. I chose a song with the lyrics 'strength will rise as we wait upon the Lord' as my song because I felt that those words had got me though so much, and would carry me through whatever lay ahead.
I hadn't imagined what lay ahead to be quite so difficult. I would say my faith was again tested many times with hospital admissions and scary procedures but I was flooded with this gratitude for life.
Yes I was crying in pain, but god gave me eyes of which to weep from.
Back in December I suffered another life threatening mast cell crisis. However this particular attack was the worst I've experienced to date.
I remember it so well and I really wish I didn’t.
I remember the world coming back to me in a haze, the sounds around me were still muffled but I could feel everything that was happening to me. I could feel the mask pressed firmly over my face. I could feel the air forced into my lungs with every press of the bag beside me. I fought against it, I was breathing for myself again and I was trying to breathe against the rhythmical breaths the doctors had been doing to resuscitate me. I could feel the needles being placed in my arteries and veins and I tried to cry out in pain but my body remained motionless.
At that moment, there was so much pain, so much suffering, I couldn’t go on.
I lay flat on the hospital stretcher and prayed to God for him to take my life. I desperately pleaded to him that I would lose consciousness and just slip away.
Lord please take me, immerse me in your mercy
The doctors realized and removed the pressure off my face, gently holding the mask above my face allowing the high flow oxygen to pass into my lungs. I was breathing. My heart was jumping in my chest I was sure at any second it would just stop. The blood that flowed through every inch of my body seemed to boil under the skin and I can honestly say that I have never felt to unwell in my life.
The nurse spoke to me gently and reassuringly. Tears were steaming down my face at this point and I was shaking as I held the comforting hand of a paramedic friend, Gav. I could hear the doctor in the background talking to another member of staff “she is incredibly poorly, get the intensive care team down here now”.
The strangest thing of all was that I didn’t want that team to come and save me. I had fought this condition long enough and I wanted my battle to be over.
No more.
I spent several frightening days in the intensive care until and months recovering physically from what had happened.
Yet everyday I pushed my faith further and further away from me.
How could I worship a God who ignored such a plea?
How could I trust in a God that allowed me to suffer so intensely?
I could not understand why I had grown up worshiping this God who, when I needed him most in my life, ignored me.
It's an ongoing process but I'm getting there. I'm finding my faith again, day by day and breath by breath. I realise that God provided medical professionals to help relieve my physical suffering, and that he will only let me experience what I can handle. However with god by my side, I can handle anything.
God recently bought a wonderful friend into my life who I'm so blessed to have. We are the same age, we have the same diagnosis and doctors but most importantly we are both children of God. Together we are both finding our relationship with god again and leaning on each other's faith when we need to.
I prayed to die, and god gave me a friend. Just as Proverbs 3:5-6 says 'Trust in the LORD with all your heart, and do not lean on your own understanding. In all your ways acknowledge him, and he will make straight your paths.'
Whatever I wanted on that day, clearly wasn't part of Gods plan and some days I'm grateful that I didn't die, others not so much. Everyday I'm learning to adapt to new limitations but I know that I'm not alone.
