Hope Heals

On the day before Thanksgiving, Jay rolled me into the radiology lab to take my ninth swallowing test. It had been seven months since my stroke, and I had not been physically able to put food into my mouth. Hunger pangs that came at the smell of food were torturous. I also feared that if I had to rely on a feeding tube the rest of my life, I would die earlier than a person who can eat.

My swallowing therapist fed me a spoonful of pudding while a moving X-ray of my head and neck was projected above me. I swallowed with all my strength, quite sure that Thanksgiving, my favorite holiday, was of course the most perfectly timed day for God to allow me to eat again. I was almost shocked when my therapist shook her head no, with a frowning downward gaze.

I wiped away tears of sadness, embarrassment, anger, and exhaustion as Jay dutifully pushed me back to the house and got me set up in the back of the living room. Despair washed over me as I watched Jay and his sisters playing with my infant son, James, while I could barely even hold my head up because my neck wasn’t strong enough yet.

I found myself wondering, “Has God made a mistake? Should I have died? I can’t even walk or eat or play with my child. I used to power walk the hills of Pepperdine; now I have two physical therapists and a walker while I agonize to walk one step. I’ve gone from wearing a cute outfit every day to wearing adult diapers and hospital gowns. I want my old life back! If I weren’t here anymore, things would be better for everyone. Jay could marry a normal, able-bodied woman, and James could have a normal mommy. Everyone could stop putting life on hold to help me get well. It isn’t ever going to work. Jay and James and our sweet families don’t deserve this suffering. I should be in heaven right now. Then at least everyone’s pain would eventually come to an end.”

Suddenly, before those thoughts had even fully landed in my head and heart, I felt a deep awakening of the Word of God, which I had known since I was a little girl. I could almost hear this rapid-fire succession of the truths of Scripture, like a dispatch from God himself.

Katherine, you are not a mistake. I DON’T MAKE MISTAKES. I know better than you know. I’m God, and you’re not. Remember that you were fearfully and wonderfully made in your mother’s womb, and that is when the AVM formed in your brain. There is purpose in all of this. Just wait. You’ll see. There is no replacing you!  Jay could never, ever marry a woman as amazing as you. James could never have a mommy like you. Think about what this will mean for his life. Mommy’s stroke will always be a part of his story. That is a gift to him. It will inform his life. Trust Me. I am working out EVERYTHING for your good.

Don’t doubt this truth just because you are in darkness now. What’s true in the light is true in the dark. I know you can’t fight this. That doesn’t matter. All you have to do is be still and let Me fight for you. I will complete the good work I began when I gave you new life.

My nature is to redeem and restore and strengthen. This terrible season will come to an end. You will suffer for a little while, and then I will carry you out of this. You will see My goodness in the land of the living. Lean into this hope. Most people will never go through this kind of hell on earth. I have chosen you. Live a life worthy of this special calling you have received.

Something supernatural occurred in those moments as those truths hit me hard. I suddenly felt extraordinary—in spite of my terrible pain.

That moment changed everything for me. It was my epiphany of hope. I knew deep inside that my “earth suit” was only temporary. I would never lose heart in this situation because my soul was not what was wasting away. From that moment, and slowly, one day at a time, Jay and I were learning not to hang out in the place of fear and of questioning what might happen. There is something profound about hope, something so meaningful when you cling to what is beyond anything you know and understand. When that happens deep in your head and in your heart, something shifts.

Hope heals.