His Blind Butterfly

I had to take my mom to the doctor on Saturday. Now most people would not believe this to be true. In fact, most of my crazy life is too unbelievable to believe. I have a friend who lost a husband and loves the Lord. She is someone I can confide in about some of the craziest things, and she doesn’t find it too outlandish. Perhaps because she has been in and out of the hospital and has seen for herself that life can change from one minute to the next. But as she is often reminding me, our God is the God of the turnaround. After leaving the doctor’s office, we stopped for a nice lunch and to browse around a thrift store. I am not one to take for granted these moments that may seem ordinary to others. When you are in and out of the hospital, these days of stability are priceless. 

My childhood best friend often spends Sunday with us. My girls and I know how priceless those Sundays are. 

They are often spent by my hospital bed or helping me get from place to place: laughing at a joke I told or shedding a tear because they are seeing me off to another procedure. My daughters never miss a moment. They are now working diligently to make the trip of a lifetime happen for me.  

I spent some time this week with a teen I have admired. She has undergone many surgeries, including a kidney transplant and looks up to me. I cannot say why–I learn so much from her. 

I was down and out one day when my little nephew was visiting. As he said goodbye, he walked back in and broke out singing “when I think about the Lord, how he saved me, how he healed me—it makes me want to shout…”

At church one day, I was asked by the worship team leader if I’d like to sing with the choir. Why would she take a chance on me? I was wheelchair bound at the time and on oxygen—and blind. We did sing–four guys carried my chair up onto the stage. It looked like a modern day version of the paralyzed man in the Bible whose friends took him in to see Jesus through the roof.

I often think of Shadrack, Meshac and Abednego. I can’t help but think of the fact that they were in the fire together. This isn’t a literal fire I live in, but it is a refining fire for sure. I thank God daily for my girls that walk through it with me. A wise friend once told me the teacher is quietest during the test. Another friend once told me that a friend is someone who understands your past, believes in your future, and accepts you today just the way you are. They have been constantly urging me to write, and here I am. 

All these things remind me that we are the body. The biggest mistake the church can make in regards to a sick person is forget them. They often don’t find them a place to serve. The seeking first His kingdom can apply to us seeking out each other for after all are we not His kingdom.  As a sick person goes throughout their days, it is easy for the mind to drift away since they spend many hours alone. They can feel much guilt for past sins and feel responsible for the time their caregivers are giving up. We see that there is a friend that sticks closer than a brother. I am also reminded that the enemy is the accuser. He didn’t just accuse Job. He accused Joshua. Yet we see how the angel of the Lord redresses Joshua from the filthy garments into clean ones. We see the Lord tell Satan “Is not this man a burning stick snatched from the fire?” I am reminded that God snatched us from the enemy’s hands and that He is a friend that stands by us at all times. He loves us so much that He gave us the body of Christ for us to lean on.