I have a friend who has been very sick for years. For a long time we had a long distance relationship, meaning I only made eye contact with her at church, then found her for my hug and huge smile. I was drawn to her. Still am.
A couple of years ago her sickness became very chronic and severe. She has COPD and could no longer breath on her own. She was in ICU; Her life was sustained by a breathing machine, which caused all kinds of problems. She was on high levels of all kinds of meds, and was pretty out of it most of the time. God did something so extravagent for me during that time...He made a way so I was able to see her almost daily during those weeks of her hospitalization. He wanted me to learn. Sometimes she knew I was there, sometimes she didn't. There came a time, actually several times, when she had the choice to turn off her breathing support. Many of us encouraged her to stop the painful process and go to Jesus. But she knew...she know God wanted her to keep on. She kept fighting.
Eventually, amazingly, she got better. She was moved to a rehab center, and after many weeks of hard, hard work, she got to go home, where she lives now. She is cared for by her family, and last night, once again, God did something amazing. When I came out on stage to play keys, I looked out and saw my Shelly. She was there to worship. To worship the God who made her, who allowed her to get sick, and allowed her to live.
What a great example of how God uses trials to mold us, shape us, and draw us to Him. I have never met anyone more in love with Jesus than Shelly. I have also never met anyone who has had to work so hard to just...breathe.
this is a poem that Shelly wrote...
ReplyDeleteBy Shelly Jan, 2011
As I lie in the dark of frightening cold
I wonder when will my breath come again.
Daily my air goes round and round
Escapes and falls to the ground…
You will me to live
You will me to breathe
You gather my breath simply by saying my name
It comes from the forest, it comes from the mill…
It comes from the church up the road on the hill.
It runs and tumbles over children laughing
And carefully, tenderly from my mother who prays…
She stands in heaven beside Him and whispers in His ear.
She whispers so quietly I really can’t hear…
Then I know. His breath---that’s what really matters.
God cups His hands and blows gently in my face.
He knows what I need to catch my breath.
He simply whispers my name.
thankyou
ReplyDeletethank Shelly :) she is something else...thanks for the comment Leslie. :)
ReplyDelete