The gift

(Continued from part 1 of the story here) I made my way to North Carolina for an eye appointment during those weeks. My uber driver picked me up, his accent thick from the heart of Africa. I asked him which country his accent was from. Nigeria, he responded, we chatted about Africa for a moment and he asked me if NC was my home or if I was visiting. Both actually. But I explained I was there for an eye appointment. He said if I didn’t mind him asking what it was about and I explained my diagnosis and prognosis. He waited a moment and responded. “You will not go blind, you will ask and your sight will be restored. You will eat from a garden and you will see.” In the moment I was both parts shaken and confused. Did he not understand the science of it all? Or did he just have a faith that saw bigger than mine? I texted my girls friend group about it and somehow promptly forgot of the interchange. 

The airplane window view from that NC flight

My eye appointment brought more news. Each appointment since diagnosis, my eye pressures had crept higher and higher towards a dangerous range of pressures. My doctor explained that RP and my edema’s cause the pressure to increase, but even the shots he was injecting into my eyes increased pressures to a point where he may have to lessen them or do them less frequently. My pressures had risen from 14 at diagnosis to 21-22 that appointment. They steadily increased each appointment. I got my injections that day, the worst ones to date. He hit scar tissue which caused my eyeball to bleed and he had to do the injections again in another spot in the back of the eye. It was incredibly painful. I also had to do another test where they place a thick contact over the eye (more like a scale than a contact) which they adhesive to your eye with a thick gel, this scale holds a wire to the eyeball and she proceeds to flash different brightnesses of lights into my dilated (already light sensitive) eyes while I am instructed not to blink (and given drops to stop my eyes from blinking). For 26 minutes I sat there, eyes wide open, scales glued to them, in a pitch black room, eyes pouring tears as I didn’t blink for the entire 26 minutes. John sat there and told me it was like watching someone in a torture chamber, which is exactly what it felt like to me. The results of that ERG (electro-retinogram) test the electrical output of rods and cones, showing what cell death is present and what retinal life is still functioning. As same as the last ERG from two years previous, my rods (night and peripheral) were a flat line of output, showing substantial cell death, and my cones (color and central vision) fired less than a normal person but still had electrical output enough to justify my current sight. I told John that day I never wanted to do that test again.

Back home to Atlanta, the pandemic dragged on, I was longing to find new community here, but also just desperate to be in person with other believers talking about Jesus and someone to join me in the wrestling place I found myself. I heard of a Bible study about to start in person in February, it was actually over an hour drive from my house but I didn’t care. Again, my spirit jumped before my mouth and I signed myself up. The study started and was a perfect continuation of the previous two months. A challenging and unraveling of limits I had placed on God due to types of churches I grew up in or limited understanding. God used the study to continue to open the eyes of my heart and spiritual understanding to a bigness of him that I had not yet experienced. Week after week, I found myself blowing up walls of the box I had unknowingly put God in. I was digging into the Bible and prayer like never before. I was still in the wrestling place with the healing ordeal, but I was also seeing Scripture in a new way, like I had never read it before in my life. Meanwhile, I was still working my way from Matthew to Acts, and the Holy Spirit was coming to life in a way I had never seen him. I realized, the Spirit had been to me like the neglected, misunderstood third member of the Trinity. Concurrently, the Bible study I was doing was showing that we were not relying on the power of the Holy Spirit. So many things stuck out to me from it. I think I realized in a lot of ways that through my discipline of seeking God, reading, praying, I think I was unknowingly seeing God as a displeased father, one whose arms I needed to uncross with my works so that I would be accepting to him. This is the opposite of the foundational truth of the gospel, I could speak the truth with my words and know in my mind, but for it to translate to a place of release and freedom in my heart was a new experience. We talked about that Jesus was a demonstrator of the gospel, not just a proclaimer of it. And that the miracles and things Jesus did during his ministry were not simply to just prove he was who he said he was, but instead to give us an example of what it looks like to be a son or daughter. He demonstrated bringing the kingdom come, on earth as it is in heaven, and that is also our mission as a child of God. Whatever is unleashed in heaven, we should be praying into reality and unleashing here through prayer and faith. The healing example and discussion kept resurfacing throughout the Bible study and I continued to explore it with shaky obedience and curiosity.

The final week of the Bible study came, the leaders, who we had been watching on video were going to be in person. As I drove my hour long drive, I figured they may ask that day if we had any questions or areas of the study we wanted to talk about and as I drove I prepared my litany of questions. ‘What about the people that don’t get healed, why do people seemingly have to ask for healing, why wouldn’t God just zap it down without us participating in some way, if I have to participate that feels like its my responsibility and I am trying to get away from the performing aspect of faith’. Questions swirled as I tried to remember all I had struggled with as I made my way through the miracles of Jesus and the disciples. As I listed them out in my mind on I-85, I heard God say so clearly, “let it go, you can stop wrestling, open your hands, ask me”. Immediately it was like a new revelation and even my feelings came right alongside it. My thoughts immediately changed, a complete 180. Why in the world was I wrestling this to the ground? I didn’t want my cynicism, skepticism or lack of full understanding about healing be the block to just saying yes to the invitation God had so clearly put before me. Each time I read another miracle of Jesus and another healing story, it was as if I would hear God say, “Just ask me, you are my beloved daughter, you can ask”. But each time I came up with 3 reasons why I couldn’t or fear and misunderstanding would keep me from truly asking. There were moments I could ascent to asking in my mind, but not in my heart. But right there on the interstate I told God I was done wrestling, I was ready to receive, I was ready to ask not because of my deservingness but because of my position as His daughter. And right there on the interstate I asked as plainly and confidently as I could, 

‘God heal me. I believe you can and I am your daughter asking her Father for something you’ve told me to ask you. I don’t understand it and I don’t have to, but I trust you and I know you’re able. Jesus, heal my eyes.'

Honestly, it was an easy prayer to ask after I finally got to the place of release and receiving, and it was far less of a lofty or weighty prayer than I imagined, it came and went far more quickly than all the wrestling seemed to justify and I moved on singing and praying my way up the interstate to the final gathering of our Bible study.

I had never met Rachel or Karen before, the authors of the study (Father’s House) but you can immediately sense the Spirit in their presence.We had been watching them on video, but for the final session they came in person. They taught the last lesson, all about the explosive, transformative power of the Spirit and how often we miss out on it because we don't know to ask for more. They mentioned the homework from the previous week and part of it was a fill in the blank prayer we were supposed to ask God to speak into. No one was sharing theirs and I was immediately prompted to share mine. I read,

Dear Beloved Daughter,

I am so pleased that you are leaning into all that I am. I have been waiting for you to see me in a new light, to come with me to a deeper place. You have been mistaken when you thought that I was a punishing, displeased or unwilling Father. I can’t wait for you to soak in all that I am and see the invitations I have set before you.

As I read it out loud, I didn’t remember a single word of writing it down, but my heart rang true with each word. I had heard so clearly from the Lord that this diagnosis was never about the outcome, he instead took what the enemy meant for evil and used it for my good, as a way to take me to a deeper place with him, a place I couldn’t get to without it. He had put invitation after invitation before me along this journey with losing my vision and as I sometimes boldly and sometimes reluctantly said yes to each one, it made way for another invitation. My spiritual eyes were opening with each passing week and I was seeing him in a new light, I was seeing his word in a way that was alive and inviting and so very intimate. I was not reading words on a page or eye witness accounts of miracles, I was hearing the words of a Father who wanted to reach his daughter’s heart. 

Karen looked at me and said can we pray for you? I welcomed it. Karen, Rachel and the four facilitators of our study gathered round and began to pray. Rachel mentioned first healing for my eyes, for them to be opened in radical fullness, for the healing he died for to come forth into that moment. Karen paused and asked if I had a diagnosis, I explained what it was. She came around and put her hand on my eyes and began to pray, she prayed the diagnosis of going blind under the power of Jesus, she asked me to say that I receive by faith my sight. She commanded my vision to be expanded. She asked if I could see, when I opened my eyes I saw what I normally do and I explained I could see perfectly straight ahead, it was that I had peripheral loss. I put my hands up near my cheeks and said I can see to here, just nothing behind it. She said "then we are not done praying". She then put her hand on each of my hands and continued to pray as she pushed my hands back toward my peripheral near my shoulders as we both looked at each other. Immediately, as she pushed my hands, color, light, clarity rushed into my peripheral as each person in the room came into striking clarity beside me. As I looked Karen in the eyes, the room became disorienting and large because my sight was immediately expanded. First I saw one lady on the couch, then another, then another, then the table and lamp, then my friend directly to my right, I could see her ponytail and jacket and glasses with sharp clarity. It was shocking, overwhelming, amazing, surprising, awe invoking. I had not realized how small my vision had become until that moment where it became expansive in an instant. I had gone from looking through what felt like a toilet paper tube to being in an IMAX theater. Everything felt completely huge and overwhelming. Now, for the last two years, I “test myself” all the time with my vision. I put hands up in my periphery and see when it comes into view. I knew exactly how close my hand has to get to my cheek before I saw it. Now here I sat, hands out above my shoulders and I could see both hands completely. It was unavoidably, unexplainably and inextricably miraculous. 

I got in the car that day to drive home from the miracle that occurred and sat in the drivers seat, stared at the car in front of me and was floored at all I could see: my cup in the cupholder, my gear shifter, my jeans, my door handles and locks, it was distracting how much I could see. I moved my hands around like a crazy person and they not once went out of view. I drove home weeping. I called John, my parents, my sister and told them. I was in complete amazement at all God had done, at the Spirit’s healing work he accomplished.

I didn’t have a doctor’s appointment for another month and a half back in NC. But I was dying to know what happened and see if it showed up in my scans. The next day I called several local eye doctors asking if they could get me in for a retinal scan. Many were months out or weeks out, which put me right near my other appointment, but on my last call she said there had been a cancellation and she could get me in the following day, Good Friday, for that scan. 

I drove to the doctors office in wonder of what they’d say, all the while somehow thinking that just my experience of sight had changed but probably not the physical scans. But I again asked God to show up in that doctor’s office and do what only he could do. I walked in and was taken back, the nurse does what she always does, checks my central vision on the eye chart and it was 20/20, like always. Then she did the pressure test. Now, like I said before, my pressures had gone from 14 (normal) at time of diagnosis to 21-22 at my January appointment. Each appointment they crept up steadily, almost one at a time. 21-22 had now put me in the near danger range of pressures, so I anticipated as she touched the instrument to my eyes to test my current pressure that early April day. “Your pressures are 14, in the normal range, lets get you on over to the retinal imaging”. What? My pressure went down 7 points. In 2.5 years it had only increased, never bounced around from high to low, only increased, and now it is back to a normal pressure, the one I had the day of diagnosis. I went awestruck to retinal imaging. Picture after picture, blinding light after blinding light. The doctor came in afterwards and seemed to be in a hurry but introduced himself and moved on to the retinal scan… I think he thought I wasn’t familiar with Retinitis Pigmentosa so he explained that RP is a disease that causes retinal cells, rods and cones, to die and it shows up on a retinal cell as black speckling on the retina. Then he pulled up my images and said “these scans are not congruent with someone with RP, there is no evident retinal cell death on these scans”. I only stuttered a mumbled response as he carried on. Now there was a small area near my 30 degree mark where he said he did notice I had some “visual constriction” but he said “overall your peripheral is well in tact!” He also explained that I did have one very small macular edema but it was "pretty miniscule". He pulls up the image of my edema and I hardly recognized it. For two years I had done drops, pills and now injections to get these edemas to decrease. The drops and pills and first year and a half of trying to get them to go down in size only increased them, they actually grew in size by almost 10x their first imaging. My last appointment in January, they had gone down some but they were still considerable, and what looked like 6 of them distorting the image of the retinal wall. The image he showed me that day was like a tiny speck, nothing resembling what they were before. Immediately he said "well I will connect you with another retinal specialist here if you want to join the practice" and gave me an elbow bump and quickly left the room. I sat there speechless of what I saw. Speechless that on Good Friday, it was spoken over me that there was no evident cell death in my eyes, pressure removed, death reversed, cells resurrected, vision restored. Mind you, I knew God did miracles in the spiritual realm, I had seen hard hearts changed, marriages saved, salvation come to people, prayers answered. But to that point I had not really ever seen God change the physical miraculously like this. I’d never seen him reverse science and physical realities.

A month later I made it back to Duke Eye where they did the litany of tests. My doctor stumbled his way through 6 scans that were all different than January, last July and all of 2019. 5 edemas, gone from the scans. He sat there stuttering, explaining that RP degrades (thins) the retinal cell wall but mine had thickened since January. Literally large portions of the retinal cell wall-healed- back to a more normal thickness. I explained to him that this was due to the power of prayer and only by Jesus, he responded "well that is an intangible I can't measure". 

Isn't this our God? Bigger than we think? More powerful than we know? He is still in the resurrection business. Our prayers are so often too small, our vision of who he is so limited, our faith too shaky to ask or risk or trust. He has used that imagery so many times with me over the last months, my hands near my cheeks saying "this is all I can see" and he puts his hands on mine and says I know, and pushes them back, "but I am way out here". I have limited faith, limited prayers, limited perspective, limited understanding, but he is limitless. He wants to blow our minds with how good he is, we just have to have eyes to see it, hearts to ask for it, and a faith to believe for it. One thing Karen said after we finished praying that was so impactful for me was "This was not just my prayer, God chose to converge an army of believer's prayers for you over the last few years into this moment for your healing". I went back and spoke at a worship night and my mom, sister, close friends, even some close friends parents came. I shared the story of what happened and then afterwards, Karen had anyone stand up who had prayed for my healing. Watching so many women stand who had interceded for healing when I couldn't even muster that prayer was so impactful. This is what the Body of Christ does, it lifts up its members when we can't lift ourselves, it interjects God's power into places in our lives through prayer. So many of you have done that for me too. I am so grateful, not only just for the physical miracle, but for the spiritual sight God has given too. I think of it often when I see my child walking up in my peripheral vision, when I can walk myself through a dark room, or when I see and dont trip on another pair of shoes the kids have left on the floor. Thank you for being my army, this is as much your miracle as mine.

Invitations

Well, I can hardly put words on paper. I feel amazed and speechless at all that has happened the last 4 months, yet also like I have enough words that would fill an ocean to do any of it justice. It feels like such a sacred, intimate story to me, but yet I know I am a steward of it and want to share it in the best way I can. I cannot aspire to manage how you respond to it all, so I will just try and take you on the journey I have been on.

Since what happened in Montana in July of 2020 (previous post), I knew God was inviting me into something that I could not yet put my finger on, but there was an undeniable stirring in my heart, like something was about to happen or be asked of me. Months went by as the kids started a new school and we plugged into life in a new place. January came around and a friend of mine mentioned something about a Healing Prayer she was attending and something in my spirit jumped as if I knew I was supposed to do it. I had never even heard of what that was, much less knew what it entailed, but I knew it was a clear invitation from the Lord I was going to accept. I got in with the lady within a week. I met with my counselor the day before and told her, I didn't know what this would be like, but I knew whatever God asked of me I wanted to say yes to. I think I joked with her, whether he asks me to tear down the house we are building or move to Africa or have another kid, anything, I want to obey exactly what he says. I arrived January 8 and it ended up being a beautiful mix of counseling and prayer. We did work of forgiveness in places and asked God for freedom in other places, we asked God to speak in ways I hadn't before. She then asked me about my diagnosis. Her exact question was "What is your theological backing for not asking for healing up until this point?" Wow. I sputtered out a few things, each she responded with scripture. I told her how John 9 had been a comfort when the disciples asked Jesus if this man's sin or his parents' sin had caused his blindness and Jesus responded in verse 3 "Neither this man nor his parents sin, but this happened so that the works of God might be displayed in him". I told her how that had been an anchor for me and my prayer, that God's glory would be on display as I walked the road of this diagnosis. She said "Well you took that verse out of context, he is healed two verses later". She challenged me to read all of Matthew, Mark, Luke, John, and Acts. To read each account of healing, what happened before, during and after, how almost each person asked and participated in their healing. It was a jostling experience for sure. I wanted to be open to what God had for me, but this conversation started a wrestling. 

For days, I poured over scripture, prayed as I read it, asked for help to understand, asked why this was so hard for me, asked why I had yet to ask for healing when so many people were already praying for it for me and I refused. I know healing has been misused and mis-prioritized in faith so often and I wanted to steer clear from any prosperity gospel or prayer life that just asked for the gifts of God more than it asked for God himself. But as I read each account for healing, each became a soft invitation to look into the heart of the Father and respond as a daughter. I told God, I didn't know how to ask for healing, I didn't know if I wanted it, I didn't know if it was all because I didn't think he was able or if it was because I just didn't think he was willing. A wrestling was the best way to describe those months in my prayer life and in time in the Word. My foundation wasn't shaken, but my understanding was obviously unraveling, as if it had ever been together in the first place. 

February approached and a friend was talking a prophetic prayer night she was attending that next week. Just like the last time, my spirit jumped and spoke before my mind thought or my mouth put it together. I was supposed to be there. Again, I had no idea what that even was, but I knew God wanted me there.  I told her I would be interested in going and she explained it was a small event, only 6 people or so, and it was full and wouldn't happen again for months to a year. I walked away confused, why would God make that invitation so clear and even cause my soul to jump at it, but it not be an opportunity. I moved on from it and a few days later, the night before it was supposed to take place, I got a text that said someone couldn't come due to Covid, did I want to come. Again, in amazement I accepted and had no idea what I was stepping into. That night I walked into a room of women where I only knew one. A lady approached me and said "I heard about your eyes and I have been contending for your healing, and as I see you tonight I know he has already done it. When you walked in I saw something like a banner over you that said ‘Healed’". Confused but intrigued by her words and boldness, I thanked her for her care and we moved on to what the night held. This beautiful older woman explained that the gift of prophesy, as explained in 1 Corinthians is to edify and encourage the believer. It is not a mystical fortune teller or way to decide what to do in your future, but it is just another way to listen to what the Father is already saying to you. As she spoke over other women, I think part of me was skeptical and curious. I kept praying, God just let me know it is you. And again whatever you say, I want to obey. She came to me and said many things, here were just a few. But the first words out of her mouth were "You have a childlike faith, a faith that whatever God says you obey, you want to do it". The exact phrase screaming in my heart for the last month and the last 20 minutes she looked into my eyes and said with confidence. She continued, "You have had some challenges come in your faith lately and you think you've wavered but God doesn't see it that way, he just sees your childlike faith. The things you have not seen, that you know he has spoken, you know he is growing your faith. Isaiah 43 tells us God does things for his namesake, because his reputation is on the line, and he doesn't send forth his word without it accomplishing the purposes for what he sent it for, and God is making some promises to you that you haven't seen fulfilled and he did not speak those words in vain. Those words will set in motion the things he promised in his time. You don't get to be an overcomer without having obstacles. The things that others may see as obstacles, you know they're faith builders, maybe people see those as walls or blockades but you see them as hurdles to sail over with the Lord. When you get to the other side you will look back and see where you've come from. This coming year God is going to ask you to take inventory of those things you have believed for, that you have seen fulfilled and how he fulfilled it. And you write don't you? These will become your testimonies that encourage others, so as you write them down, God will use it to touch other hearts. He's not a respecter of person, if he does things in your life and other people hear about it, it raises their level of faith that he can do it in their life. This might be new to you, but it's not new to God. You have the word of God and you have faith and you are an overcomer. As you put pen to paper, let God whisper to people as you write." I was shaken as I sat there and heard her say the very prayer I prayed as I waited for her to speak. God knocked down a few of my walls that day that I had unknowingly and ignorantly limited him by.

As I met with my counselor week after week, she would ask, "So you said you were going to do whatever God asked you to, he didn't ask you to move to Africa or tear down your house, those things would've been easier for you to do than the thing he has asked. He has asked you to ask for healing and it's been made clear to you, so why are you not asking?" You see, I had tried asking but I had been asking like a scared child that thought her dad may not want to do it so I didn't want to bother him with a request that felt selfish. My counselor not so gently ;) pointed out that it was also because I didn't want to introduce disappointment into my walk with the Lord as far as it depended on me. Walking the diagnosis with peace and acceptance, knowing what was coming, even blindness,  was easier than embracing the risk of the ask. But she said "Kylie, you cant micro-manage your potential future disappointment for the Lord, if you ask for healing and the answer is no or not now, then disappointment will be the vehicle for your healing. But don't limit him because you are afraid of disappointment, he can handle that." Those words went deep to my core misbeliefs: that I am not deserving of healing, that he wouldn't want to give it to me in the first place, or that he would view me as selfish and instead give punishment rather than the gift, that he wanted me to suffer instead of experience healing and life abundant. I continued through prayer peeling back those layers, unraveling the places that had been wrongly wound tightly around a misguided belief. It was a beautifully painful and equally wonderfully freeing process, day by day, week by week, he was speaking so clearly, in ways I had never heard him before, to ears who had never expected to hear so much or attuned to listen with such expectation and excitement of the next experience. In those days of February, I started with what I call my "shakily reluctant prayers for healing". I wanted to ask, I knew he had invited me in to ask, but I still felt like I hadn't finished the wrestling place of what it all meant. I wanted to obey so badly, so I did it in the best way I could muster in the moment, but the invitations continued...

Journey of surrender

John and I made plans for a getaway in July right after the move to Atlanta before the kids started school. I planned the trip (like I always do :) for Glacier National Park in Montana, a desire of mine for years. The trip, unbeknownst to me, lined up the day before my next eye appointment would be. After moving to the Atlanta area in June, my eyesight seemed to get progressively worse quickly. I know stress can induce decline in this diagnosis, but I also wondered if it was also being in a new place where I didn't know my way around the house, the roads, or anywhere. There were moments I would miss a stop sign or hit a cone. I immediately shifted conversations with John, full of grief, that we needed to discuss me giving up my license. I hadn't cried so hard in all of my diagnosis journey as in those conversations. I remember pulling into my driveway one afternoon and ahead of my in my windshield was a beautiful sunset, and in my rearview was the darkest gray rain cloud. The two images were at direct contrast. Beauty, Pain. Peace, Heaviness. Both coexisting but both speaking to different places in my heart that was feeling both in such juxtaposition. In those moments, it was so clear God had led us to Atlanta, and so clear he was continually drawing me in to his peace and beauty, but the sharpness of losing my independence felt so close and for the first time I felt such resistance to it. I didn't want to move to a new place and immediately give up my license. I wanted to find my back ways to school and the grocery store, find what gym I would join and learn the ins and outs of carpool, drive the kids to their first day of school and hear all about it at pickup. I realized, a lot of my really special unplanned conversations with the kids happened in the car, and the idea of losing that felt crushing. 

July 23- Around this time, our trip to Montana came. We flew out there and enjoyed a beautiful first day, surrounded by the most amazing sights I have ever seen. Unparalleled beauty at every turn of the trail. Waterfalls, mountains, glaciers, clear lakes, tall cedars. I drank it in like it was my last sight and I marveled at God's creation each minute. That night we got in bed and John reminded me he had a 4 hour meeting he couldn't miss the next morning. I was instantly hurt and angry, we only had 5 days here and now one would be wasted. Quickly I felt the prompting of an invitation from God- this is what I had for you, come with me. Surprisingly John got off the hook easily and I told him that would be great I would drive into the park when we started his meeting. 

The road into the park is a road (Going to the sun road-rightly named) that winds along a glacier lake, towering trees, and winds its way up mountain after mountain, waterfall sprays right onto your car as you pass, and continue upwards as you hug a cliff on one side. As I navigated the tight turns and watched carefully for brave bikers and slowing cars taking pictures, I wondered if this would be my last drive. After all, the day I got back I went to Duke for my eye appointment and I became sure that was going to be the day my doctor would tell me it is time to hand over the keys. I drove, windows down, music loud, crying (literally sobbing) out to the Lord, both at the beauty my eyes beheld and the grief and fear which was taking hold of the transition coming. MI turned my music louder and song after song came on- Worthy of your name, by Passion, right into Even when it hurts by Hillsong. I wept my way through the songs, windows open, words belting out, as my heart told God I would surrender driving if that is what he asked of me. I felt metaphorically my knuckles loosen over the decision. I knew he was still good even if that is what was next for me. But, as only a daughter could, I simultaneously asked for one more year. Please God, one more year. I will surrender my license if you ask for it, but if I could ask for anything it would be just one more year of driving, learning my way around, enjoying these special moments with my kids in this new place. But I told him, even if the answer to that request is no, I told him He is still good, I still trust him and I know he has a plan for even this, which is for my good. I thought of the many times I will have to keep laying things on the altar as they come and give them to Godin surrender. I don't know what next weeks appointment holds, but he has prepared me and given me strength to be ready for it. He invited me into that drive so clearly, he had an experience waiting for me.

This diagnosis has been a beautifully hard gift for which I am so thankful. For these moments in the car that day, which normally I would've just let pass by unaffected outside of that minute. God uses his creation to speak. God uses these mountains to draw our eyes up from our circumstances and see him in his power and beauty.

July 28- The trip sadly ended and on to Duke I went the following day after returning. I cried myself to sleep the night before the appointment. I was sitting in the grief of what I anticipated hearing that next day. I walked into the appointment Tuesday and got the normal tests, scans and pictures. The doctor walked in and pulled up my visual field test and said "Well I definitely didn't expect THIS!" I had GAINED some vision BACK! With this diagnosis, this does not happen. He attributed it to the injections taking down the swelling on my optic nerve, but I attribute it to Jesus alone. He looked at my results and said "Well you are definitely safe to drive, for at least one more year, we will check again next year." One. More. Year. The three exact words I begged God for on that Montana road. God said yes, to his daughter, hands open in surrender but heart begging for her Father to move. This diagnosis journey has been marked with surrender. Sometimes he will take it as I surrender and sometimes he will give it back, but always he just wants my heart in the right posture. I thought of Abraham on that mountain, surrendering the unexplainable to a God he trusted more than his circumstance, and instead of take his offering, God provided another way. He gave the offering himself. Just like he would thousands of years later. Thank you to the God who provides, the father who hears and answers, the Almighty who is big enough to create the mountains yet intimate enough to respond to our exact requests. It is all just too good.

(The picture on the left is July 28, 2020 and one on right is end of 2019. The purple means no vision in those areas, even with a bright light. Red means medium lights weren't seen, but bigger lights were. The fact that there is less purple on the left image shows the improvement to that day's test from the previous year)

  

The body remembers...

7 years today I held my 12 pound one year old son in my arms for the first time. I met my shy, scared 4 year old. I can bet you neither of them remember the date, but their bodies remember. A brain somehow etches into permanency the trauma of adoption. So many people idealize adoption, and while it is beautiful, it is tragic, it is trauma, it is devastation. I cannot imagine being a 4 year old and being told, "Go, this is your mama now". That is all Maran was told in her language. She had not seen a white person, she had not heard the English language, and in the orphanage, she hadn't been caressed or changed or tucked in. And now here is this woman and man she has never seen that are doing these things. I cannot imagine the fear and confusion. The mind may forget the details but the body remembers.

This month has been hard, plain old hard. Trauma rears its ugly head in whining, attitude, discontentment, anger, uncontrolled outbursts, lashing out with words, and regression. Bed wetting, sibling arguments, ungratefulness, negative attitudes. And when you bend down and look in their eyes and say "This isn't you, whats going on in your heart?" The response is I don't know. The mind can't put it all together at this age I guess, but the body remembers. The body remembers leaving the orphanage, the place where 4 "mamas" cares for 35 kids, where one meal a day was all you got, and even that was often sautéed leaves and worms and a ball of dough called Fufu. The orphanage was the place where 6-8 kids slept on a queen mattress on the floor, where they would bring a bucket in at night and you would sit your bottom on the edge of it and go to the bathroom before bed. The orphanage was the place where the older kids would target the younger to take their one meal a day because they could push a baby out of the way to get a double portion, the scar still protrudes on Levi's head to prove it.

I can't believe it has been 7 years. Part of me wondered if at 6, 7, 8 , 9 years home that they would forget the painful memories of trauma, but the body doesn't forget. Doctors say continued hunger and malnutrition in the first 2 years of life creates a trigger in the brain that can rarely be reversed. Food equals nurture from that day until forever, which brings its own set of issues. Food is intensely triggering during these periods of grieving. This year for my child's birthday I got the most special breakfast, I brought their favorite treat to school to share with friends, I had an expensive rare treat waiting for them as an after school snack, I cooked their favorite dinner and dessert that evening, but it wasn't enough. Why didn't you do this mom? Why did I not get celebrated enough mom? It is a vacuum that cannot be satisfied. It is exhausting and so hard to parent through that from a place of patience and compassion.

I think the hardest part about walking with someone through grieving is when grieving doesn't look like grief, it looks like anger, apathy and irritability. Give me tears and "this is hard" and I am there by your side echoing your hardship and comforting and affirming. But the alternative form of grieving stirs my default reaction of stress, frustration, impatience and a lack of compassion. I am trying to take a step back each day and ask God for just what I need for that day, not get afraid of the future or how long this will last, but just enough grace to give my kids for today. I ask him for eyes to see their regression and anger with compassion, because it stems from them sensing that their world is not as it should be. And that is a true assessment, it is not how it should be. No kid should lose their first family.

But as I tell them as I tuck them in, 'our family is forever', 'it is ok to be sad and mad', 'mom still loves you and always will no matter your behavior', 'I am sorry I got frustrated with you today, that was not kind of me'. Affirmations, apologies and vulnerability do go a long way in the midst of grief.

As I am learning from my diagnosis, people don't tend to do well when there is no "end" in sight to suffering, when there is no promise here on earth that this will tie up with a pretty bow and you will just say "Wow wasn't that worth it all". Not here, no. In heaven, all the sad things will come untrue and all of the suffering will appear as a brief second in time that had complete purpose filled with love and intentionality.  But in the meantime we will put one foot in front of the other, love when we don't feel like loving, ask God to help us to endure well, and enjoy the lives He has given us. Happy 7 years together to my sweet treasures.

Certain Uncertainty

So during the time of all of my eye diagnosis, we have had other kids receive an  educational diagnoses and one going through a time of worry and stress (and John started his MBA, because of course there can't be only ONE big thing going on at the same time;). One of my kids has been seeing a great counselor to help process and learn how to handle stress. We have helped at home as much as we can, but with what I am going through currently, I decided now was a good season to outsource that discussion to a wise counselor! After the second or third session, she came home with a picture. The counselor, who is trained in both counseling and sports psychology, told her that athletes performance and progress comes in waves, you progress and then you plateau and go back into a learning or struggling place until you get another skill and your progress is on an upswing and so on. She told her that your emotions shouldn't "ride the waves" of your progress. Your feelings about yourself shouldn't follow the pink line of your peaks and valleys of performance. She said we want to work on getting you to this green line, your emotions are going to struggle as you have victories and defeats but they should only move minimally because how you feel about yourself shouldn't be dictated by your performance. Ideally, you would follow a straight line, the black line, and your feelings about yourself and confidence in who you are wouldn't be moved by your circumstance in your sport or at school or with what is going on in life.

Now this counselor is not a Christian counselor, but she revealed a Biblical truth to my daughter that I have been trying to teach her since she could walk. And bringing this lesson back up at a time in my life where there are some pretty big waves of disappointment, struggle, and shock was pretty timely for me as well. You see, I don't want to "ride the waves" of this diagnosis. I don't want every appointment to knock the wind out of me and put me down on the ground of despair or feeling crushed. Is it hard to hear bad news? Yes. I posted this just the other week. 

Another tough week of news about my diagnosis. A substantial amount of progression since 6 weeks ago. Talks of the doctor saying I may need to give my license up in the next few years. A line gone on the eye chart that wasn’t supposed to happen until later. A huge amount of vision gone in my peripheral with staggeringly small numbers remaining. This is news. Bad news. Heavy news. But still just news. “But what I have access to is a truth that transcends news. The restoration that is impossible with man’s limitations is always possible with a limitless God. Truth is what factors God unto the equation” -Lysa Terkeurst "It doesn’t  have to be this way". 
 I’m clinging to that truth as things start to fade or surprise me throughout the day. I’m enjoying another sunset, another blue sky day, my kids faces, but those things are not ultimate. He is. The man who gave up his very life so he could call me daughter. He is truth. The truth that he journeyed to a cross and was tortured so that I could have spiritual eyes to see him. The truth that he conquered death and then extended me an invitation to life, to really live, sight or no sight. That truth is worth it. And even though the news feels big and sad, he’s better. He’s steady. He’s good. He’s with me. And that truth carries me through. “He is not afraid of bad news; his heart is firm, trusting in the Lord. His heart is steady; he will not be afraid”

Psalms 112:7-8a #letitbetrueofme

Big news is hard to handle and process and it can be sad and overwhelming and frustrating. I didn't want to hear that I may lose my ability to drive in the next 2 years or so. I didn't want to hear that it is progressing faster than they thought. That is a low point. But I don't want my feelings about my life to fluctuate with my circumstances. It is ok to grieve and be sad, and I have definitely had those days as I think of what I used to think the future would look like and what it may look like instead very soon. But bad news doesn't have to equal despair. It can hurt but it doesn't have to consume and crush. Jesus is my straight line. Because my identity is rooted in Him, I don't have to ride the waves of my circumstances. I can stay relatively steady as these waves come and go because what he says about me is TRUTH and this is just news. I am not the equivalent of my abilities or my sight. I am a daughter of God, who Jesus died to save, who is promised that I am upheld by an unchanging, unshakeable God with limitless wisdom and power. He is my straight line when my life is hard. He is  my straight line in victory. I look to him when I fall because he picks me up. I look to him when I succeed because it is Him in me that gives me any victory I may have. He is steady when I am not. He is unchanging when I feel like I'm blowing in the wind. He says I am enough, loved, able, powerful, treasured when I feel otherwise. 

Our pastor spoke this Sunday on root idols that cause our hearts to stumble. The four being Power, Control, Approval, and Pleasure. Power says I can do it on my own and I can succeed. Success is what drives me, my performance is what matters, I just need to be better than the person next to me. Control says I need things to happen my way, I can put in the right work and I should get the right result, things should go as I dream or as a plan. Approval says What people say about me is ultimate, I don't want for people to think bad of me, I don't want to feel low, I want to feel liked and accepted at all times. Pleasure says I deserve this good thing, I deserve happiness and comfort at every turn. I will go after my own ease and comfort because that is what life is about. These things are the root of so much pain and deceiving about what life with God can be. As I processed these, I know Control is my biggest struggle. I want things to ultimately work out like I hope they would. I want to parent my kids and be ensured they turn out how I want them to, I want to know what the next 5 and 10 year plan looks like and for it to go according to that. 

Blindness turns all these on their head. It attacks each one of these in varying degrees. Power? No, I am taking a low place, success will not come without major obstacles, my "performance" goes down because simple tasks now become insurmountable tasks. Control? No. My life, my diagnosis, my speed of progressing is completely out of my control. Soon I won't even be able to drive a car or grocery shop or sort laundry, much less have my life under “control”. Approval? No. Blindness is a disability that lowers your social standing. You are looked upon with pity or sympathy. People assume you are unable. Pleasure? Not as much, not like the world sees it, My ability to see is compromised, I can't enjoy a sunset or a beautiful landscape. I can't run with ease, I can't enjoy a beautiful afternoon drive. But these are illusions. These are what the world says is good, not what God says is eternal or ultimate. He has the power, he is in control, he gives me approval and acceptance regardless of my performance, and he is my source of pleasure and joy, not sight or anything that this world offers up as good. So I will keep on running after that steady line that Jesus offers. I’ll keep holding my ever changing emotions up to my never changing God and ask him to exchange it for truth. 

Not my will, but yours be done

Such hard words to utter, even harder to believe and put my full weight into. Its been a wild 2 months since my diagnosis. I have vacillated between full trust and gratitude, to grieving loss and wondering how my life will look at each stage. All the while, amazed by God and how he has sustained me and given me perspective and hope that can only come from him.

I got a call Wednesday that my gene results had come in. This was 2 weeks before I was expecting this call. I thought the days waiting for that call would be consumed with anticipation, but it was quickly pushed to the back burner of life and I occasionally wondered what would come of it and prayed that my gene would be identified and not one that hadn't been discovered yet.

As the kids got in the car from school Wednesday afternoon, an unknown local number called, which I typically ignore because I get so many telemarketing calls and the kids had just gotten in the car and were excitedly telling me about their day. Something inside prompted me to answer and sure enough it was my genetic counselor asking if now was a good time to share results. I was almost home so I parked on the neighborhood street and told the kids to get out and walk home as I pulled over to take notes. She mentioned the gene was found with certainty and I was beyond thankful. Then she told me, "your Retinitis Pigementosa has been caused by the gene USH2A". I have researched RP just enough to know that Usher's syndrome can be part of a diagnosis which also causes permanent and complete hearing loss. My heart sunk. Immediately life flashed ahead and I thought of trying to live life not only blind but also deaf. Those few seconds before she spoke again felt like minutes. She then explained that there are 3 strands within this gene and 2 of mine are "pathogenic" or disease causing, but my 3rd strand was intact, and that is the strand that causes the hearing loss part of the disorder. So there was absolutely no chance of any deafness progressing in my case.  One strand. One tiny part of a gene that was amazingly unaffected by the other two damaged strands. Miracle. She continued on to explain what this means for me and how people with this gene typically progress. The good news, she shared, was that this is a fairly common type of RP (10-15% of people with RP have this gene) so there is a lot of research for gene therapies being done with a sense of urgency. The other great news was this gene is recessive, so the kids would only be carriers, they would not get the disorder unless John had the same damaged copy of the gene and was a carrier and that was similar to a one in a million chance. The not so great news was that this gene is adult onset (obviously) but much quicker progressing than several of the others. In many other genes, complete loss of sight happens in your 55-70 year range, but this gene most people experience loss in their 40's. This felt like a punch in the stomach. I had spent the past 2 months accepting the fact that I would lose my sight just after the kids left the house, that my retirement years and grandparent years would be impacted, but just slow loss before that. This was new. It felt like a new diagnosis all together.  She mentioned how in that range my sight would go down to a 5 degree visual field (basically a pinhole) and even that would be blurred. 

She assured I would never go into "complete darkness" which is what most people assume blindness means, she said I would always be able to identify if it was sunny or night, if a light was on in a room or not, but that I would not see objects or faces, it would only be the contrast of light and dark. 

I sat stunned but typing each thing she said so I didn't forget. She said I would not notice weekly or monthly deterioration but probably every 6 months I would notice another layer of loss. There's obviously variation, even in the people with the same exact gene causing RP, and some people who are outliers that keep their vision longer and some that lose it even sooner. I checked out as she mentioned resources the county offers with learning to use a cane, disability and so forth. The message that shouted loudly was 'I am going blind, sooner than I thought by about 15 years'. I looked ahead and could see the kids playing in the house and getting their snacks. I wondered how much time I had left. My forties are just around the corner. 

That night I clicked into "go mode", sharing the info with family and picking up kids from practice and cooking dinner and helping with homework. I processed a little with John that night, but it still felt surreal, distant and unbelievable. The next morning I woke up and opened my eyes and it started to sink in. I was teary as I packed lunches and drove to school, I was teary as I drove to my workout, flooded with thoughts. My mind raced and I battled with trying to put truth over the lies and uncertainties I was hearing. I left the gym and got a text congratulating Reese for a great win at the state gymnastics meet and that she was surely headed for a college scholarship with such talent. I lost it. Right there on the backroads by my house I sobbed my way home. All of the what if's were becoming real. Would I even see her compete in college? How many more years would I get to watch her do the sport she loves? My plans of what the next 5, 10, 15, 20 years would look like felt shattered, uncertain, and laced with a ticking clock looming over me. I do not want to live this way. I do not want to evaluate my life in 6 month chunks anticipating the next layer of loss, wondering what I won't be able to see next month that I can see now. I begged God to take the clock away. And then verses flooded my mind. Psalm 90:12 So teach us to number our days, that we may gain a heart of wisdom. Job 42:2 I know that you can do all things; no purpose of yours can be thwarted. Job 23:13-14 But he is unchangeable, and who can turn back his plans? What he desires, he does. For he will complete what he appoints for me, and many such plans he still has in store. 

This is not out of God's control, it is surely out of mine. As I have reflected on this, I think we often make plans as if we are entitled to tomorrow, next year, the next decade. We know death could happen at any time, but we live as if we will have long healthy lives with no pain or suffering. This is just not true. We live in a world that is literally unraveling, deteriorating, if I use the word she correlated with my sight. What we see is wasting away, our bodies are as well. I am not entitled to tomorrow. I am not entitled to my sight. I am not entitled to a  comfortable easy life. I wrote this post almost exactly two years ago. In it, I included this quote from Jay and Katherine Wolf "Do you want the gifts or the giver? Do you want deliverance from suffering and discomfort or do you want the Comforter himself? We believe the lie that if you follow and obey God into discomfort and out of what is "safe" then there will be blessings and reward for you and things will go well...but instead you've entered into discomfort and you're finding it's your new normal. How can suffering and joy coexist? In suffering, there is a death to life resurrection we get to witness, a picture of new life. In suffering, we anchor ourselves in the assurance of hope and joy in Jesus not in our circumstances. In American Christianity, we have bought into the lie that if it is good, then it cannot be hard. That goodness must exclude suffering. This is not true. In Jesus' upside down gospel good and hard totally coexist and weave together for our goodness and his glory"

 God help me to live in light of eternity. Help me to see this as a light and momentary affliction. Help me to live in gratitude of each moment you have given me as a gift of grace I do not deserve. Help me to suffer well. Help me to say, "not my will but yours". 

I am so amazed at the Psalmists in the Bible and even Jesus himself. God is not offended or put off by their cries for help. He welcomes it. Want to complain? Go for it. Wish it wasn't this way? I understand. Think its all too much? You can't see the whole picture. I am so thankful for the way God deals tenderly with us in suffering. I definitely had a huge ugly cry to him yesterday. Not this, its too much, its too soon, its not what I thought, but I want to see this, this and this, God bring a cure, give me your eyes to see this with. And there was comfort in that and peace given, and there was truth replied with, and tenderness. He holds it all together. Not a hair falls without his allowing it. My sight is under his complete control. He is a good father who withholds NO GOOD THING from his children (Psalm 84:11). Even pain in his hands is for my good, others good and his glory. He is not withholding my sight. 

A few weeks ago I was driving and praying and singing. I saw a picture in my mind of me walking blindfolded in front of the most beautiful landscape. Jesus was behind me, leading me and gently directing each step. I got closer to the rolling hills, deep canyons, beautiful mountains. And then he took off the blindfold. God is not taking my sight from me, he may allow blindness, but it is only to enhance and heighten my experience of him, of life, and of heaven. It is a gift he has entrusted to me. Just as I would blindfold my children and keep something amazing a complete surprise from them, he does with me. So God it is hard, I may want it a different way or not so soon, but I trust you. I even trust a blindfold in the hands of my good, perfect Father. 

Give me eyes to see.

You never plan to hear bad news. Life feels normal until it's not anymore. For years I have had a hard time seeing at night. I thought it was because I have blue eyes or because I am not 20 anymore. I mentioned it casually to doctors along the way but nothing came of it other than some glasses for night driving. Fast forward to December of '18 and things started to change. I was tripping over stuff, running into my kids in the daytime, not seeing a child laying on the floor when I walked in the room. I noticed it was worse but again didn't think a thing of it. Until John did. And he said maybe an appointment would be good. So I get an appointment and think I'll just hear this is aging, you need glasses. I saw the panic rise in the doctors eyes as I failed test after test. I saw her perplexed look with how to tell me. More tests, calling in an ultrasound, needing to call in other doctors to look at scans. I figured things were getting serious. But when I pressed her for what she thought was going on I did not expect to hear potential brain tumor or genetic disorder leading to blindness. No one expects that on a Thursday.

Days swirled by while I waited to get in with a specialist. Only 6 of them, but it felt like 26. Anticipation was the major emotion, accompanied with a lot of peace amongst a few nagging 'what if's'. I knew God had walked me this far, he had been with me in Congo at my lowest of lows, he had been with me when I rolled my child back for surgery, or held my child grieving her past. I imagined having a conversation with God. If he asked me, "If you could go blind or have a brain tumor and the result would be people trusting me for the first time, your kids learning what dependence on me looks like, you finally focusing on what is eternal and not just seen, would you let me do it?" My resounding answer was yes. Now God did not ask this of me audibly I don't think, this was just my stream of consciousness. But all of it to say, I would GLADLY walk a hard road if it meant the result is closeness with Jesus. He promises trials in this world, there is no reason to be surprised by it, even if it is bad news on a Thursday morning.   But those 6 days did a lot in my heart. I put in concrete what I had always wondered: the words I would utter when suffering struck close to home. I trust you God, You are still good no matter what my circumstance is. I want to walk in your purposes and not just my own conveniences. You are worth the hard road. I want closeness with you more than I want comfort and ease. I've typed these things before, even on this blog, but now I was faced with a deeper question: if I believed in darkness what I said in the light.

6 days later, a cold Wednesday in January came and John and I saw the specialist. Many more tests, flashing lights, dark rooms, scans and pictures. Her face looked serious when she walked in with the results. She asked if I understood why I was there, what I had been seen for before, previous symptoms, each question getting more startling and alarmed, her tone growing serious with each second that passed. She explained in vague terms how the eye works when its healthy, only her voice insinuating the opposite for me. She explained how I had something from the day I was conceived, written into the fabric of my being, in and with me every day since. I felt a strange feeling, relief, comfort, preparedness, peace. I did ask her finally what she was talking about. A degenerative (progressively worsening) genetic eye disorder that  results in loss of sight (Retinitis Pigmentosa). She showed me pictures of where my peripheral vision is gone and can't be repaired (the black areas in the picture below) and she also explained things in this field are moving quickly with research and gene therapies even though no treatment is available yet. She explained blindness happens by first losing night vision, then peripheral until its tunnel vision and then tunnel closes, but you can still distinguish light from dark. I’ve currently lost 58% of my vision in one eye and 42% in the other. 

It was definitely a lot to take in but John and I felt calm. She even asked us, twice, how were we taking it so well and how were we so calm. There's really only one reason.

We grieve, with hope. We suffer, with purpose. We may feel alone and overwhelmed but we are most certainly not. A God who knit every strand of my DNA together, even this strand, knew this all along. And he waited in his grace until we were ready to show us one step at a time. That doesn't mean I haven't had thoughts of how not driving will be a challenge, or how not seeing my grandchildren with my eyes is sad, or how life will be with a physical challenge, but I am confident. Confident that he who began a good work in me will see it through to completion (Philippians 1:6). I am confident that he will work all these things together for my good and for his purposes (Romans 8:28). I know that in my suffering that he will give me an abundance of joy as his glory is revealed along this path (1 Peter 4:13). I am comforted as we walk this road and I know he will comfort others through the way I endure (2 Corinthians 1:4). I know this may be a time of grieving and hardship, and there will be more to come, but I know no circumstance can take away the joy I cling to in Christ, he will listen to my requests and make my joy complete in Him, not in the removal of the circumstance (John 16: 22-24). 

John and I talked that night about how life may be different but that God is constant and we are a team. I told him how I can now see how God ordained it all along that it was his grace that I got married young and had children young and had gotten to see my kids grow and experience life with them. All God's graces I do not deserve. 

The next day came and it was another meeting with another specialist. On the way to the appointment I received a call from the orthopedic I had taken my oldest to the night before. He explained that the rib we had X-rayed was not broken, but another one was previously broken but already healing. He continued, "Has your daughter ever had problems with her heart before?" No, not this. My heart sank. He explained on the X-ray they noticed her heart looked abnormal, a part of her heart was enlarged and that can be dangerous. I passed the information off to John and walked into my next eye appointment. I don't even remember the route I took to get to the Eye center. My mind was a flurry of information and questions and concerns. I prayed. I asked for help, for healing, for peace. I walked into the waiting room and was called back to see another Physician who assists the genetic specialist. He again took new scans and confirmed the diagnosis. He showed me the damage already done. I asked how quickly will this progress, how much time of sight do I have left. He answered "I am a man of faith and I believe God has ordained each step for you. This is not in your hands and you do not need to worry about it". I had asked for peace and He gave it, I asked for comfort and He gave it. This doctor proceeded to answer all of my questions and asked if he could pray with me. He prayed confidently that God entrusted this to me and will use it for his purposes, he asked that I take every opportunity to use it for my good and the good of others, he echoed my words that my confidence cannot be shaken, it is in the God who created the universe and every fiber of my being. Why should I be afraid when that God is by my side? 

That same day as the eye appointment and the call about my daughter, my sweet uncle passed away. A random trip and fall in a parking lot led to a bleed in the brain and he is now meeting Jesus face to face.
It has been one thing after another these two days. An overwhelming sadness and an imperturbable peace. This world is not my home. We were made for another. This life is temporary. We are not guaranteed tomorrow. 

I don't know if it was an error by the radiologist reading Reese's X-ray or the Lord answered my prayer of healing my daughter's heart, but today the cardiologist and radiologist could not find the enlarged artery, all was functioning normally. I am beyond amazed. 

What a week it has been. Have there been days where I have eaten an entire bowl of Jello Pudding? Yes:) Moments when I am sad that I may not get to see a child walk a stage or an aisle? Yes. But I have had a solid group of dear friends praying for me, holding up my arms, praying when I am too tired to, and giving me space to verbally vomit and point me back to truth. But not in a Christian cliche' way, no, in the pit with me, yanking me out, and spurring me on. 

I'm letting you in on my journey, as I process, as I pray, as I experience the ups and downs. I don't want attention or sympathy, but I want Jesus to be on display. I am sad at times but I am not afraid. I do not put my trust in things seen.  I do not know how all of this will play out for me as far as timing goes, but I know how my story ends. Jesus is still on the throne. 

It has been a whirlwind 8 days. And then I remembered a few weeks before all of this, when life felt normal and I was praying through what 2019 would hold. I scribbled down these notes as I journaled on 2 Corinthians 4:16-18 

"God help me not trust in things SEEN. Help me fix my thoughts and affections and trust on the eternal un-changing you. Not the easy quick-fix or temporarily beautiful. Lead my thoughts, desires and attention to you and your kingdom coming, not insulating my own kingdom that is literally dying. I want more of you and less of me. I want a faith that trusts you at every turn and EYES that focus on you."

You see the Lord heard that prayer on January 9th, 2019. I didn't know anything that was to come the following days but he did. He is answering it, in ways beyond my imagination. He is helping me to not trust the seen. He is helping me fix my gaze and attention on what is unchanging. He is slowly prying the kingdom I wrap my fingers around out of my hands and reminding me where I have been all along. He is showing me that my days are short and to live for what matters eternally. He is helping me to experience and grow a deep rooted faith that will trust him at every turn. He is giving me eyes that see him and focus on him. I'll keep taking each next step, eyes fixed on him.