I had been enveloped with dark, heavy cumulonimbus these past few days. I started and punctuated the days with tears, a heavy heart, and an outlook of a dusky future.
No man is an island. We will always need someone to strengthen and resuscitate that lost glimmer in our daily living. Mine held a stethoscope. And he cost $68.
He took a needle and poked me with it. I witnessed my precious blood flowing right out of my teeny weeny veins into his mighty, frightful syringe. I stared in horror. This liquid version of me will either relinquish or reclaim my being. I chose the worse.
The good thing in being part of a religious community is having prayer warriors. Immediately after that nightmarish jabbing experience, I messaged everyone to intercede for me. A chain of prayers was built, God agreed with it, and translated the collective plea into a positive result from the clinic the next day. I entered the doctor's office with crushed spirit. I left it with renewed soul.
Some people regain life from a horrific accident. Some from a tragic experience. I came into being for the second time after a depleting paranoia that consumed my cheerful personality. It is a miracle. The results nailed factuality of God's definitive miracle hands still at work, though they may appear ambiguous at times, through communal intercession among his brethren. Communion of the saints works wonders.
I have been breathed of a second life. I am eternally grateful. :)
3 comments:
wonderful blog. glad to have found it :)
oh thank you. glad to know someone appreciated it :)
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