Signed, Sealed and Delivered

~ Andrew, the summer of 2007, at our local skate park ~

"Signed, Sealed and Delivered"

by Melanie Dorsey

As Andrew’s skateboarding skills grew, he began to express his desire of being sponsored by a skateboard company which he usually referred to as being “signed.” A sponsorship means free gear, trips and sometimes even cash. I do not even remember when Andrew first began to skateboard. It is so much a part of his identity that it seems odd to think of him without a board.

One summer, a foreign exchange student moved into the neighborhood. He was a high school boy and Andrew was an eleven year old middle schooler but they skated together almost daily. Fransisco was from Spain and spoke little English. Andrew was home schooled and knew a little Spanish. But somehow he learned that “Fran” was sponsored by a skateboarding company in Spain.  There was no language barrier when skateboarding, ramps and rails were involved! An "ollie" is the same in any language! Fran would walk the half block from his host home to our house, knock on the door and ask for Andrew. They skateboarded on our street and in our driveway and often I would see them from the window skating on Andrew’s rails. And to my maternal consternation I would insist they move the rails from the middle of the road back to our driveway! Andrew was sad to see Fran return to Spain when the school year ended. 

When brain cancer quickly affected Andrew’s left side leaving him partially paralyzed, he was unable to pursue his passion for skateboarding. That was so heartbreaking for us as a family. Andrew had lived and breathed skateboarding. One day he told me sadly, “It’s been three months since I’ve been on a skateboard.”

I went to the garage and got his newest board – one his dad had purchased for him shortly after the diagnosis. We had debated on whether to buy it or not, wondering if it would be a painful symbol to Andrew or one that would keep his hope alive. I placed the beautiful board in his lap and I told him to see himself on that board, to visualize himself healed, whole and skateboarding. And I asked him to repeat a simple prayer after me as I prayed for his healing and offered thanks to God. He held the board in his lap and he prayed. And I swallowed hard and tried not to cry. 

In the past 12 months I have often thought of Andrew’s wish to be “signed”. One day a scripture came to my mind and my heart rejoiced as I realized Andrew had gotten his desire after all.  

To be continued...

No Box!

Marker

The permanent marker arrived. I can't help but feel that this is what we got our son, Andrew, for Christmas this year. I do not want to feel this way. Andrew is our youngest child and we miss not being able to Christmas shop for him. 

Gift

I chose a tag from our Angel Tree at church. I picked the gift request of a 12 year old boy. He wants roller blades. He needs a men's size 10. This has proved difficult to find in the local stores so we will search online today so we can fulfill another young boy's Christmas wish.

Shoes

One day in January I was home alone and I went in my boys' bedroom - the one Avery and Andrew shared. I looked through Andrew's side of the closet and saw his Nike shoes. I sat on the edge of the bed and I put them on. They were too big. At the age of 12, his feet had outgrown mine. But I slipped my feet into my boy's shoes and I tied them. Then I walked around the house in them. I thought to myself, "Why couldn't I have taken his pain to wear like I am wearing these shoes?"

 I would have walked that road for him, had I been given the choice.

 Choir

Yesterday marked a year to the day as the last day the five of us sat in church together. As the choir ministered in presenting a Christmas program, I held Andrew's Bible close to me, wrapping my arms around it as though it were him. 

And I remembered that last year while the Christmas choir sang, Andrew leaned into me and whispered in my ear, "It's just not the same without you up there, Mom." 

Poem

I wrote this poem and posted it in February. We had to box up the medical supplies and wheelchair for return. It was such a hard and heartrending task. I had also gone through some of Andrew's clothing and things. Some I boxed and some I placed in my cedar chest in my bedroom. I left a few of his clothes hanging in the closet. And the shoes I walked around in are there, too.

No Box!
by Melanie Dorsey

A box cannot contain my love for you, nor who you are.
Not any kind of box.
Not the ones that will store clothes and toys and boy stuff.
Not the one that holds a jar of clay in a place it hurts to see Your name.
Andrew Christopher Dorsey.
It seems so wrong.
It hurts so much.
But listen!
Listen to my heart.
The place where names are eternal,
That is where your name belongs and IS.
In a book; not on a box .
In a book; not on a name plate under the red flowers.
In a book; the Lamb’s Book,
Where Eternal Life has signed your name.
Andrew Christopher Dorsey

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 New

I started a new writing project today inspired by Andrew. It's entitled "Signed, Sealed and Delivered". I hope to share it here soon.

Bible Study

'Still looking but thinking of writing my own.

*Can you see the skateboard on the marker?

The pine boughs at the bottom corners we chose because we have FIVE pine trees in our front yard.

Grateful

Sometimes no matter what my head knows and no matter how much I believe with all my heart that I will see Andrew again, the grief overwhelms me.
Certainly I do not grieve as those who have no hope, yet I do grieve as a mother who cannot see her young son. And for who knows how long.
I can have lots of good days and even good times when I think of Andrew and I can smile. Even though the "missing him" never lets up ~ it just doesn't. How could it when I always miss him? It's not like he's gone off to college or gotten married and moved away. (Not at 12.) Then I could call him and look forward to holiday breaks. There are no more real conversations between us. Only the ones in my heart. And they are a poor substitute.

I had such a beautiful time in Maryland. Our friends there and the body of Christ (new friends) at the church treated us exceptionally well.
I had my daughter with me and that helped me quite a bit, too. Before leaving home, and at the last minute, I decided to take my pillow as a "carry on." It was Andrew's pillow and I have been using it for months. I debated on whether I should take his robe with me. I always sleep with it. I did take it; I stuffed it in the pillowcase.

When I was speaking in Maryland, especially on Sunday morning when I was not so much sharing my story but teaching, I had a moment in which I felt I had "come home." It was like an inner sighing. I think that is what happens when we experience our spiritual gifting.

Tuesday on the flight home, the realization that I was returning home but there would not be Andrew there, washed over me. And the tears flowed. My daughter put her arm around me until I could control my tears.
Friday my husband had surgery to remove the rod from his leg and the last two pins (ski accident on 1/09). They called me back to the recovery room and it looked so much like an ER that my heart began to pound. And then I heard that awful beaping of the monitor. I remembered that sound and it brought back the anguish of Andrew's pain.

Saturday I ran in the Miles For Hope (brain cancer research) 5k. I saw posters honoring the survivors or memorializing those who did not survive. From what I could tell they were all adults. I did not make a poster for Andrew. I just felt it was too soon. I didn't want to "put him out there" in that way. And anyway we had the Team Andrew shirts. That felt right and it felt like enough for now.

Sunday I went to church with my oldest son. My daughter stayed home to assist her dad.
Through parts of the service I hung my head and hot tears landed on my linen skirt.
On the way home, we stopped at the gravesite and I dusted off the plastic name plate. It was broken in two places. (We have not yet ordered the permanent marker but feel that now is the time. It's been hard to think about that.)

Yesterday the tears would simply not stop for long. I asked God to please help me.

"Help me feel better. What's going on with me? Please help me."

I took my camera outside and took three pictures that mirrored my feelings ~ the purple flower with its blooms drooping, the crepe myrtle devoid of her lacy, pink blooms, the fallen tree grown too big for its container. Through tears I took pictures.
I debated on whether I should share my feelings here.

Grateful ~ Thank you for sending encouragement my way. Thank you for praying for me.

I am very grateful for you.

This song is soothing to me.

Andrew at 9 years old.

I just wanted to share a picture with you that I've never posted. Isn't my boy handsome? See that dimple on his right cheek? He has 3 freckles at the bottom curve of his left ear. They form a smile. I used to trace them and then kiss those freckles. Andrew and I called them "freckers." And almost every day I would tell him, "It's 'kiss the freckers day' and then you know what would happen. I often wonder what he will look like when finally I see him again in Heaven.

Grateful ~  "For I know that my Redeemer lives,

And He shall stand at last on the earth;

And after my skin is destroyed, this I know,

That in my flesh I shall see God.." Job 19:25-26

This scripture has been going through my mind lately.

Dear Mickey, (a letter)

I received this comment on my post "I Remember." I have no other way to reply to my dear sister in suffering than to post my letter to her and hope that she comes back to read it. And if you do, dear one, and if you would like private correspondence, my email is mdorsey@tampabay.rr.com.

Melanie, I come here and read often. Sometimes I go back and read some of your posts again. I lost my son 3 years ago and I am still struggling. My faith has been tested and I fear I am losing the battle. I ask God "why", a million times. My whole life has been very difficult and it was like this was the last straw. I can't seem to come up for air anymore and it is getting worse. How do you cope? You seem so strong and I feel so week. I want to love God but I feel like he has turned his back on me and I am not worthy. Even though I continue to go to church it just feels like an automatic motion. Everday I want to hug my son's neck and tell him I love him. I understand the hair you snipped from your son, unfortunately my son burned up in his car and we never saw him again. I have often wondered what would be worse, to lose them quickly,as I did or to have to watch helplessly and not know what to do, as you did. I think you are amazing and I wish I has your strength and faith. Please pray for me as I desperately want God in my life. Sometimes it feels like the pain takes my breath away and smothers everything.

Mickey




Dear Mickey,

I feel your pain. I feel it because I can relate to the suffering, the death and the separation from a dearly loved child.


I also feel your pain in your wrestling with God. I have twisted, tossed and turned with God in confusion, anger and ultimately what boils down to an almost mind numbing disappointment.


Disappointment in a God, who could have done something, but who didn’t.


Let me recount a few of the highlights (perhaps more aptly they should be termed lowlights) that I have experienced in the past eight and a half months since Andrew made his journey to Heaven.


At his hospital bed in the hours before his passing, the four of us hovered as close to Andrew as possible. We huddled together as we spoke tenderly to him, kissed him and caressed him.


I spoke to my husband and our other two children.


“Whatever happens, we do not give up our faith in God. We do not blame Him and we do not turn our backs on Him. We resist being disappointed in Him.”


Well, three of those things I have not given in to. However, the last – disappointment in God…I have to own that one.


I have been very disappointed that God did not honor our faith, and did not do what I believe His word teaches, honor His very Word concerning healing.


(I have promised God I will be honest with Him, honest with myself and honest with others. And so I share here honestly.)


At Andrew’s funeral we stood as a family, with our hands lifted to the Heavens as praise and worship music was sung. We sang and we worshipped.
(It has taken me months to say the “f” word. I usually refer to it as Andrew’s service.)


It was many months later that I would lift my hand high like that in praise again. I could have faked it for the sake of people who may have been observing me. But I had promised to be honest. And I could have taken the approach of fake it‘til you make it or attitude follows action. I could also have offered a sacrifice of praise. But I refused to give what didn’t come from the heart. Sacrifice of any kind must first come from the heart. It must cost you something or it is falsely labeled sacrifice.


You ask me how I cope.


I can give you some practical ways that have helped me get through my days and nights. Nights have been the worst. (I’ll give some of those practical ways at the conclusion of this letter.)

You tell me I seem so strong.
I am always surprised when people tell me I am strong. I have never felt strong. But what I have felt is determined.


Determined to feel the pain and not avoid it.


Determined to get healthy for my husband and children.


Determined to lead others to a Savior who led the way for us to be reconciled to the Father.


I had a close family member tell me when I was questioning so many things about God, that she thought it was too early for me to be reconsidering my theology.


I had to disagree.


I began my wrestling with God the month after Andrew passed on to Heaven.


I needed to find out from getting in God’s face how He expected me to go on.


Not just go on with this physical life.


But how to go on in my walking out my faith. What would that look like now? What would I look like now? What did HE expect of me now?


Now that my worst fears were realized. Now that all I wanted to do was die so I could go to Andrew.


Now that I felt so many eyes watching me…waiting to see what I would do…wondering if my faith would withstand such a devastating loss.


I am not strong. I am weak. But I am determined that in my weakness, the power of God will be revealed. The power of God to draw others to the cross, to the wounded side of Jesus and to the boundless, bottomless, beautiful love of God.


Mickey, God loves you. HE LOVES YOU!


He is not disappointed in you. He is not removed from you.


He may be silent at times. He may be hidden at times.


But he HAS NOT TURNED HIS BACK ON YOU.


His eyes are upon you. His heart is for you. He listens to the prayers of Jesus interceding for you.


He loves your boy and he loves HIS boy.


You have been separated from your son for 3 years. I have been separated from my son for nearly nine months.


But God was separated from His Son for 33 years.


That separation was for me.
For you.
For our sons.

I'm going to stop for now but I have more to tell you.
Please know that I am praying for you, dear sister. I PROMISE TO PRAY FOR YOU. And I'll be praying as a sister who has "been there"...who is still "there" in some ways.

I Remember

On vacation at Rock City in TN
Andrew RESTING on THE ROCK

In the first days after we kissed Andrew's cheek for the last time and I cut that bit of hair from his head before they closed the lid on him, I remember the pain I was in.

While making funeral plans, I kept telling myself - almost robotically, "It's just a jar of clay. It's just a jar of clay. When we put his body in that grave, it's just a jar of clay."

That mantra was soon replaced with, "He's not really there. He's in Heaven. He's in Heaven and he's perfectly fine. He's perfectly fine. Jesus, kiss Andrew for me and tell him his mother loves him and I'll see him soon. Please tell him for me."

I had terrible flashbacks of him being on life support and not being able to communicate with him. I would sit on my couch in my robe for hours and everywhere I looked, I "saw" him. I had waited on him...helping him walk through the house, helping him even in the bathroom. Once when he was on his own in the bathroom, I heard him fall. I screamed and ran to the door. It was locked. I got the key to unlock it but I couldn't open the door because he lay on his back with his head against the bottom of the door. How could I help him? How? Somehow he managed to slide himself down and away from the door. Somehow he managed without the aid of his left arm and with very little help from his left leg. I helped him up and then I began helping him each time in the bathroom.
He had to give up his privacy. I reminded him that I had helped all the time when he was little and that I would not "look" at him when I was helping him.
And he said, "It's ok, Mom. I don't care anymore."
And I felt bad for my twelve year old son, not a little boy any longer and not yet a man, but having to "grow up" in the worst possible way.
He had to accept the loss of so many things. And in such a short time. Barely 4 months from diagnosis to death.
Once I caught him staring at his face in the bathroom mirror.
He said, "I look funny. The left side of my face doesn't match the right side."
I said, "You look good to me. You'll get everything back. It may take some time but you'll recover."

Andrew enjoying his PASSION!

In those first few days, I would suddenly struggle to breathe. I had panic attacks and in the middle of them I would pace through the house and talk to myself aloud. I felt like pulling my hair out. All I could pray was, "Help me, God. Help me, God. PLEASE HELP ME."

There were times I would have to lie on my bed because I felt so physically overwhelmed. I remember actually feeling as though I were in some kind of reverse labor. It was as if I wanted to take my son and have him return to me...to the safety of my womb. I literally writhed on my bed as though I were having contractions.

I still sleep with Andrew's robe every night. If I awake and it's not near me, I just reach out my hand and it's there. I pull it closer and say, "Stay in my heart, Andrew. Just stay in my heart." 

Some of you said you would like to hear how I made it moment by moment even when I didn't FEEL that God was near.
There were many moments when I didn't FEEL God near. He seemed hidden, silent. He seemed as though He were just observing the situation. Observing me. What would I do? Would I still love Him? Would I trust Him ever again?

So, when my heart didn't feel HIM, something deeper than the emotion of feeling held me together.
Not a feeling. Just a knowing.
A knowing that even when I didn't get what I hoped for...Jesus must be enough.
A knowing that even when my theology seemed to have abandoned me...Jesus must be enough.
A knowing that even when life was cruel and God could have healed Andrew...Jesus must be enough.

Something deep within me would not give up on the sacrificial love of God.
After all, God LOVED so He gave.
Jesus LOVED, so He layed down His life.
For Andrew.
For me.
For you.

And somehow, in a way that my mind still cannot even comprehend, Jesus was enough for me.
And Jesus is enough for me.

The I Am IS. Enough.

Andrew called me outside one day to see his "grafitti" version of Jesus. See the crown?

What Would You Like To Hear?

Edited to add: (Thank you so much for your feedback. It's helping me. It really is! I'm feeling like a woman inspired. Please continue to add your input.) 

In about 3 weeks I will be speaking in front of an audience again for the first time in a year. I was scheduled to speak at a ladies' annual tea in the Baltimore area last September. However our world turned upside down when a year ago this same week in August we received the crushing news that our wonderful youngest son, Andrew, had brain cancer.

Andrew and Avery in background ~ just a few weeks before the diagnosis and without any symptoms

At the beginning of this month I asked God to help me (and our family) survive this month. I anticipated there would be some very hard moments, especially as we neared the actual "anniversary" week of the diagnosis.

Flashbacks of hearing the pediatrician give me his opinion of why Andrew had lost the use of the fingers on his left hand feel like a punch in the gut. The doctor had examined Andrew, then sat on his rolling stool at a computer screen. He talked as he scrolled through some information. Then he swore. "Damn!"

And I knew it was bad.

Andrew at Shands (3rd surgery) ~ a visit from Ted

I wanted to shield my beautiful 12 year old son, my baby, from ominous news. On the way from the office to a quickly scheduled mri, we held hands. I remember telling him that everything would be okay and we would find out what we had to do-do it, and no matter what...we were in it together.

I never could have imagined that day, that within 4 months, we would see Andrew's body lying in a casket. The last thing I did, before they asked us to leave the body and drive to the grave site, was to ask for a pair of scissors. My pastor brought me a pair.
I remember the quizzical, somewhat fearful, expressions on the faces around me.
I took the scissors and cut a piece of Andrew's hair. I needed a part of his physical self to keep with me.
I put the hair in a tithing envelope.
When I got home a few hours later, I put the envelope in my jewerly box - the one Andrew picked out for me for Christmas a year before.

And now it's been one year from the diagnosis and 8 months and 11 days from his passing to Heaven.

On spring break vacation with Dad in the pool

And in a few weeks I will stand in front of a group of wonderful women. Women who knew the storm we lived through. Women who fasted, prayed and gave a love offering to our family.
And I will speak.

So, I ask you, if you were sitting in that audience on September 18th, what would you want me to talk about?
Are there any questions you would ask me?

Yes, I have prayed. Yes, I have studied. Yes, I have thought about what to say.

The theme is "A Woman Inspired."
(There is an online conference site with this name but there is no connection between it and the tea.)

What a happy day! Mother's Day '09

Azure Heavens

"Azure Heavens"
by Melanie Dorsey

In quietness and solitude I place my heart into Your hands.
I spread my treasure at Your feet.
Breathe in.
Breathe out.
And wait.

In pensive silence
Above the sounds
The whirring workings of my soul,
My inward eyes scan far beyond
Earth’s splendid azure heavens.

In wonderment I dare believe that each new sky
Of pink, coral and amethyst
In Sunrise
Or Sunset
Again embrace us in its glow.

In dark places
Or colorings vibrant,
Your amber eyes and honeyed hair,
Your artist’s hands with tender touch
No film nor canvas hold.

(photo by Linda Charlene)

There Is a River

There is a river whose streams make glad the city of our God;

There is a river whose streams make glad the city of our God;

So I will rejoice, I will rejoice and be glad.



There is a fountain full of grace and it flows from Emmanuel's veins,

It came and refreshed me; It came and it healed me; It came and it washed my sins away...

And I will rejoice, I will rejoice and be glad.

I will rejoice, I will rejoice and be glad.

Andrew's headaches are only relieved by morphine. He has asked me to sing over him and rub his feet. He talks very little. He is very tired of all of this. I have told him he will have to fight and not give up. I remind him of how determined he was to learn new skateboarding tricks.

Please pray for relief from the headache. Please pray that the infection leaves quickly. Please pray that Andrew keeps fighting.

Last night I asked if he wanted me to read to him. He said, "Read the Bible."

I read Psalm 27, 91 and 97. Then I told him the story of the persistent widow and how Jesus used this parable to teach us to keep on asking, keep on praying and not give up.

I told him somehow he had to look past the present circumstances because there will be an end to it. He asked me how he could look past what was happening. He asked me why God doesn't just heal him.

All I can tell him is that we have to keep praying and believing that healing will come because God doesn't lie and He is the One who tells us He is the Healer.

Then I sing some more and I rub his feet and his dad keeps cold cloths on his forhead and eyes. We thank God for what He has already done and for what we beleive He will do.

It is very difficult right now. But we still believe in a good God who is the Healer. We still believe for the miracle to be completed.

Seeking The Kingdom First

It's me. I have few words today. I have cried a river of tears in the past 48 hours. Although the first lab report showed no infection, infection came later. Andrew had to go back into surgery. The surgeon reopened the incision and cleaned out infection. Andrew's skull bone was infected so that was removed. He has a titanium flap to keep the shape of the top of his head. Because the surgeon needed to shave two wide areas on top of his head, we opted to have his entire head shaved. We just told him that today. I think that is the least of his concerns. His head is wrapped turban style and there is a temporary drain for the fluid and another drain that is deeper in his brain to drain spinal fluid.
So far the cultures that have been tested are good. The spinal fluid was sent to the lab a few minutes ago and we should know something about that in a few hours.

Specific prayer: Pray that test results are good ones. Pray that when Andrew is moved, the roommate situation will not be a source of stress. He is being moved today. We have no control over that. Picu is quiet and the nurses are great here. But we will not be allowed to stay here.
Andrew has had a headache today. He had Tylenol, then Percoset and finally morphine. Pray that the headache is gone when he wakes and does not return.We were told this morning to expect to spend about 2 weeks in the hospital.

Finally, pray for my husband, myself, our other children and my parents. This, obviously, affects the entire family.
We need your prayers to strengthen us in this battle for our son's life and health.
I need YOU, YOUR prayer, YOUR faith.
This is where I was directed in God's Word this morning: "But seek first the kingdom of God and His righteousness, and all these things shall be added to you" Matthew 6:33.
These are the very words of Jesus. They are precious to me this morning.
Again, thank you for praying for Andrew. We still believe in a miracle and 100% recover. No backing down. No giving up. No giving in. We owe that to our son.
Love,
Melanie & family

Fearless - Continued & MRI update

Today on the way to get the MRI w/sedation, Andrew vomited so it was a no go because the place we were sent to was not a hospital with capabilities of using a breathing tube in case of vomiting under sedation.
We are rescheduled for tomorrow afternoon at All Children's Hospital.
PLEASE PRAY THAT WE HAVE WISDOM. We are beginning to wonder if these delays are "God delays." We just don't know.
But what I do know is God is a good God and always worthy and always trustworthy.
No doubt about it!
Still standing in faith for THE MIRACLE FOR ANDREW.

I had reached a breaking point. The fear that gripped my mind was so strong at times I felt as though an actual presence was overshadowing me. I hesitate to share that in the thought that some may find it too much to read and thereby too much to believe. But the Bible does talk about a "spirit of fear" (2 Timothy 1:7).

I can remember like snapshots in time when I was terribly afraid at night. The kind of fear that makes you sweat but still you pull the covers up over your head. There were moments of sheer terror in which I tried not to even move a muscle and longed for the relief that comes from falling asleep until the morning sun lit my room. But I never told anyone. Not my parents. Not my friends. Not my husband. Fear had me convinced that speaking about it would make it that much worse. And I didn't think I would survive the nights if they were any worse than what I was already experiencing.

Fear paralyzed me when I was pregnant with our first child. My husband worked third shift and I and my swollen belly were alone in the dark. Fear continued its torment when my husband's work required frequent travel. I became a "door checker," double checking that the doors were locked even when I knew they were.
We had a king sized bed and I could relax better if all three children were with me at night behind a locked door. I did my best to hide my intense fearfulness from everyone, especially my children.
Maybe someone reading this is "there" now. Just keep reading. There is deliverance from the "spirit of fear." I am a walking testimony of that!

When I reached my breaking point it coincided with my hunger to know God's Word and to have a closer, more intimate relationship with Jesus. I felt I should fast for a breakthrough.
More later...it's late and we have a long day tomorrow.

~~~~

Please pray that the tumors will not grow. We aren't scheduled to start treatment until next Monday and Andrew just told me that it is getting harder to move his leg. We are looking into other treatments in other places but time is of the essence.

Continued here from Tuesday's post:

Our church was having a special guest, a man who taught on fasting. He had lived a lifestyle of fasting and had seen great results through it. The church was encouraged to fast.
I made up my mind to fast for 3 days in order to hear from God and to seek freedom from the "spirit of fear." At the conclusion of fasting I attended the night service in which our pastor had told us to expect a move of God.
I went expecting to be freed, delivered once and for all, from fear. I sat in the pew and the time came when the pastor began to pray for people. I sat waiting for what I thought would be my opportunity. I sat with my heart beating furiously and my palms pouring sweat. I sat waiting for my opportunity.
My opportunity came in a way I didn't expect.
The pastor called for people who had "addictions."
At the word "addictions," I felt I should go for prayer but I didn't have an "addiction."
And yet, I still felt that I should go forward for prayer.
I thought, "What if this is my opportunity and I miss it because of pride?"

When you are really desperate for freedom, for relief, for God to do something big for you, you lose your pride. You put what others may think about you behind. How badly did I want to be freed from the overwhelming, paralyzing fear that arrived in the night to terrorize me?

I must tell you here that I knew ALL of the scriptures regarding fear. I quoted them over and again when fear attacked me. I prayed and wondered what else I could possibly do to rid myself of this enemy. Many times I thought of the words of Jesus to His disciples: "This kind can only come out by prayer and fasting" Mark 9:29.

I hesistated only a moment at the word "addiction," and then I got up and walked down the aisle where the pastor stood. He layed his hand on my forehead and prayed for me. In that moment I felt different and I knew something had happened.

From that night on I have never suffered from fear to the extent that I had before fasting and being prayed for to break an "addiction."
Yes, I have felt the "temptation" to give into fear but I always remind myself and even speak aloud that God delivered me from a "spirit of fear." There have been many more nights in which the children and I have been alone due to my husband's job requiring travel. A couple of years ago, he was in Australia for 5 weeks! I have learned to give our home and our children, my husband and myself to the safekeeping of THE ONLY ONE WHO IS ALWAYS TRUSTWORTHY. I trust Him with our lives and with our livelihood.
With Andrew's diagnosis, there have been many opportunities to fear, yet I am continuing to "lay him on the altar" knowing that God's intentions toward Him are good. I remind myself of the life of Joseph and what the enemy meant as a means to destroy Joseph, God turned for Joseph's good. We fully expect God to do the same for Andrew and for our family.

God doesn't give people cancer. God gave His Son, Jesus, who suffered on our behalf so we wouldn't have to. God is well acquainted with a suffering Son. His Son suffered so mine would not. Isaiah 53:5 tells me, "But he was pierced for our transgressions, he was crushed for our iniquities; the punishment that brought us peace was upon him and BY HIS WOUNDS WE ARE HEALED."

I have never shared this story of my deliverance from the "spirit of fear." Why do I share it now? Because I have committed to God that in what we are walking through with Andrew, GOD WILL BE GLORIFIED.
And if that means, opening myself up to you on a blog and making myself vulnerable to misunderstanding and perhaps even criticism because your theology differs from what I believe, then so be it.
I am officially out of the business of "impression management." That means I have relinquished my "need" to manage what anyone thinks of me.
If you struggle with fear, it would be my privilege to add your name to my personal prayer journal.
"Thanks be to God who always leads us in triumphal procession in Christ and through us spreads everywhere the fragrance of the knowledge of him" 2 Cor. 2:14
Andrew's Psalm - Psalm 27.
I love you, sisters.