Forever Scarred and Forever Changed!

As the white, sleek carriage I am riding in edges closer to Spokane, I am consumed by a sense of swelling deep inside my soul.  I'm not sure why, but there is a craving rising inside my body. Before setting out, there was a ravenous hunger dwelling deep inside my soul. I had kept it fed but now I feel like it is about to consume me and we can not reach our destination fast enough. It is a holy, ravenous appetite. It is not an appetite for physically scrumptious food that can be consumed through my mouth.  It is like a pregnancy craving that can ONLY be satiated with the one item of its choice.  No substitutions! Today I am craving some holy, sacred time in His presence.

Arriving at the event, we slide out of the carriage and slowly walk into the building.  I'm slightly annoyed that I feel so fragile and not sure why.  I seem to have a magnified awareness of my soul's ravenous appetite.  I have to wonder if these friendly faces we greet along the way to our seats can see this.

Do they know how my heart longs just to soak in His presence through extended worship?  We look like outsiders and this makes me want to locate a spot in the back to perch and be chameleonish. 

A beautiful soul appears and informs us of our "reserved seats".  She walks us up to the second row and points.  Sure enough, there are "reserved" stickers on them.  Yahozee!  This beautiful soul lets us know that she will attend to any need we have.  As quickly as she appeared, she is gone.  I have a magnified awareness of my "guest" status.

It's delirious to be included as an outsider.  This is also one of the things I love about God's family. Truly, we are not outsiders in this place.  We are just family that they haven't met yet.  The gathering starts and His presence is overwhelming.  Yes, this is what I desperately need.  

I stand and drink in all that He is. I can feel Him filling my parched soul.  It is filling in all the cracks and saturating the dried soil of my soul.  I can hear Him and He is calling me forth.  I love lingering in this place.  His presence is comforting.  The music slowly dies down and the guest speaker (Pam Hart) takes the platform.  She too, senses that we are in an unusual place.  Words flow from her mouth like a pitcher of warm chai. I am lulled. My heart is full.

Like a polar bear taking its first dip in the frozen arctic waters, I

am jolted to reality.  I see the speaker point at me.  (Obviously, my chameleon tactics have not worked.)  All the ladies in this place turn to see who she is pointing at and talking to.  I can feel the redness creeping up through my neck.  I am sure I look like a tomato with a bad rash.  She starts to tell me things she believes God is telling her to speak to me (for those of you who have never experienced this, as well as those of us who have, it is an experience that is both bewildering and energizing - more on this in another post). Oddly enough, every single word is accurate. Then in one easy move, she begins to pray for me. She prays many things, but at the end, she prays for my physical body to be healed from the top of my head through my toes. (Hum.....how did she know the surgeon was pretty sure I was going to deal with severe swelling in my left foot for the next year.)When she concludes, I sit down and the gathering continues.  Soon, it is over. The redness is slowly fading.

We are now back at our hotel.  To be quite frank, I am beyond exhausted and I am going to slid into these high thread count sheets and drift off into a place of rest.  Tonight my soul and mind blend harmoniously together and His peace is my companion.

Seven am arrives and the deliciousful sun is shaking me from my tranquil rest.  Prying myself from the grip of these scrumptious sheets, I right myself and take two steps toward the restroom. Suddenly my brain clicks on.  WHAT AM I DOING??? Instantly freezing in my steps, I realize that I am easily walking. Slowly allowing my gaze to make its way down to my left foot, I gasp.  The foot is no

longer a strawberry colored, plump sausage with little piggies sticking out the ends unable to touch the ground.  It is normal color; toes touching the ground and

wiggling; and I am walking without the boot or any assistance.   Just to be sure I am seeing this correctly, I call to my friend.  She exclaims, "THIS IS A MIRACLE!" I'm sure she has awaken the entire floor, but honestly I don't care!  God has done a MIRACLE!!

Can I be honest?  I believe that there are miracles happening everyday around us and we just don't see, but something like THIS?  and to ME?    

I've been studying the seven miracles and the metaphors that go with them in the book of John. 
Today I read miracle #6 (John 9:1-41) with Jesus healing the Blind Man's eyes. The physical miracle for me is my foot being healed, just like the man's sight was restored.  The metaphor in scripture is we are sent  to share the good news with unbelievers.  The healing points to Jesus and compels us to tell others. The metaphor for me is Jesus healing my foot, and the words Pam spoke over me, compel me forward to even more passionately share my Jesus with the world.

Can I be honest? The words Pam spoke to me before praying  for me, are words that have been whispered to me by Jesus; spoken over me before by prophetic others; and were tucked deep in my heart.   But, I was afraid. I was afraid I was not "enough".  I was afraid that I was unqualified. I was concerned with many other things.  But, He reached through time and space and not only healed my foot, He called me His daughter.  NOW, I know EVERY time I look at my foot and see the wicked scars, I will rejoice over the healing and proclaim His goodness. I HAVE TO!  There is NO place these feet can take me to proclaim His love, that He won't be with me because I am His daughter and that makes me "enough".  

What miracle do you need in your life?  If He performs it, how will that change the trajectory of your life?  What will it take for you to realize that YOU are a SON or DAUGHTER of the Most High and YOU are more than enough!

Until We Chat Again,
The Plank-Eyed Girl