It’s been one thousand two hundred forty days since my healing. One thousand two hundred forty days since I have needed to wear compression sleeves on my calves, eat a low-histamine diet, eat small well-balanced meals throughout the day, drink a hundred ounces of electrolyte water a day, avoid high heart rate exercise, avoid early morning workouts, avoid stress, limit the amount of time I stand, lay on my back with my legs along the wall to rush blood to my brain, or pre-plan resting time throughout the day and after “big” events.
One thousand two hundred forty new miracles.
Why does my miracle matter to you? Because hopefully it gives you hope. Hope that the God that hung the stars in the sky, the God that never fails to raise the sun each morning (although many times in northeast Ohio we wouldn’t know it), the God that filled the oceans with creations beyond our wildest imagination, can do things in YOUR life beyond your wildest imagination.
“What no eye has seen, what no ear has heard, and what no human mind has conceived – the things God has prepared for those who love him.” 1 Corinthians 2:9.
Life isn’t always easy. Life for me wasn’t easy when I had POTS. Life without POTS isn’t always easy either. God challenges me every day. I wasn’t born a writer. Most days I feel like a baby trying to run a marathon. But with God all things are possible.
Some days words magically appear on the screen. Other days I have a hard time getting my butt in the seat. But then I pray, and God gives me a song, a Bible verse, a word from a friend (thank you, Kelly, for today’s inspiration), a podcast, a sermon, a thought… and I take a baby step. A baby step toward my goal. That’s all God asks – that I be obedient. I do what he asks me to do, and he figures out the rest. I write the words (surely with his help) and he determines the publisher, publication date, title, cover, and every word on the page.
It’s like riding a bicycle. You put your butt on the seat, your hands on the handlebars, your feet on the pedals and you start pedaling. What happens if you stop pedaling? You get a meet and greet with concrete.
Personally, I’d rather have a meet and greet with God. I’d rather live my life with all its messy challenges, with eyes on my Father, because otherwise, I might miss the beautiful sunrise he has waiting for me tomorrow. Only God knows what beauty that sunrise might bring.