Sometimes I'm overwhelmed by the kindness and grace of our dear Father. Every once in a while, when I am cleaning house and running up and down the stairs, I remember how easy it is now... and how tough it could have been for a "time, and times, and half a time" before.
In November, 2005, I was visiting Susie. While up there, on Wednesday evening, I had connected with some pastors and teachers in a town about 50 miles from her house. I had been contacted by one of them and asked to drive up to their town's pizza parlor where they were meeting and take some time to share about my ministry focus, which involved a specific portion of spiritual warfare.
On Saturday evening, I was reaching across a room towards Susie to hand her something, and I suddenly had a tear in my lower left leg. It hurt big time. As I tried to walk, I could tiptoe or I could flat foot, but I couldn't do anything in between without the pain and weakness hitting me significantly. I made it through the night, but the leg wasn't in great condition. And, in the morning, on Sunday, I was going home.
My biggest concern? I would be driving about 550 miles and would have one leg that was truly useful. Not that the left leg would keep me from driving -- since I didn't need to use it for the gas or brake pedals-- but just climbing in and out of the car at rest areas and gas stations could be tough.
I decided to stop at a church in a very small town about 100 miles west of Susie's right before I hit the Interstate. I had met the pastors at the meeting on Wednesday. I knew they would be open to praying for my leg.
When I went into the church I was taken to a room where the pastors and other leaders were meeting. When the pastors saw me hobbling, they immediately said they would pray. They had me sit in the center of their group and laid hands on me, a couple ladies putting their hands on my leg. One especially kept rubbing the back of it from the calf to the heel. After about 10 minutes, sensing that my body had truly been touched, we just "hallelujah"ed for a short while. Then I hit the road. As I climbed in the car a small, very small, change had occurred. Even confident that the Lord had touched me, the pain wasn't gone, though, and I still struggled with some of the walking.
However, it was amazing how things changed. Every time I stopped at a rest area, my leg improved. When I filled my gas tank, walking from the pump area to pay inside, the pain reduced; the twinging was still there, but less and less as the day's travel continued.
I reached home in the late afternoon. My husband, after talking with him and describing the pain the night before, assumed it was an Achilles tendon that had been torn. [I was told the same by a number of people, even nurses, both before and after the drive.] At that time we lived on the 3rd floor at an apartment building. Dave had already assumed I'd have to be held as I hopped up the stairs and then we'd be calling our doctor. He was just as amazed as anyone could have been, because when I reached home, I could walk up the stairs without help. I could still feel some "twinginess", and, to be honest, sometimes felt a little nervous, wondering if the "healing" would somehow collapse. [My "faith" ain't perfect, even though He is.]
I was so blessed. During every one of the next few days the tightness and the "twinginess" reduced. Then it went away, entirely.
So, six years later, after that glorious healing, I am walking, and leaping, and praising God.
Doesn't mean I haven't had other issues, some pretty consistent, as occurs to nearly everyone in these "tents" we live in. I've even been told by those small-town pastors, that one reason I was healed was to encourage a couple of the new leaders who needed to understand that side of God's kindness to His kids. It was hoped that they would be continually willing to pray for those in need. I was just a "training tool".