Provision

Lately, I've been imagining what you, my pray-ers, might look like in the spiritual realm when you are praying for me. Sometimes you are warriors with gleaming swords and sturdy shields, fighting off grotesque enemies. Sometimes I am in a dark, cramped womb, and you are the midwives pulling me into the blazing light. Sometimes you have hoisted the weight of my cross up upon your shoulders, alongside your own heavy cross, and together we stagger forward. And sometimes we are all on the bank of a creek that's meandering through a mountain meadow. I am resting on a blanket, and together we are listening to the water rush over smooth rocks when, gloriously, you begin unpacking a picnic basket full of fixings for a tea party. I suppose this last scene is a better depiction of companionship than prayer*, but your prayers have made me feel so not alone.

It's the craziest thing: I wouldn't wish this journey on anyone, and yet, sometimes I feel like I'm especially blessed because of it. I'm specially blessed because now I know what it's like to be hoisted onto the sturdy shoulders of the praying Saints and carried again and again to the feet of Jesus. It is a most wondrous experience.

Your prayers continue to bear much fruit. My health continues to incrementally improve, and a couple of days ago my body let me begin my trampoline therapy. It is every bit as fun as I thought it would be to bounce in the sunshine while the squirrels scurry and the birds sing:

My mom told me that when I was a baby my favorite thing was jumping in my crib. I've always a-loved a-bouncin'

I've also been able to start taking short, easy walks. I love being out among all the blooming things!

On Tuesday, I met with a new doctor, Dr. K., who specializes in helping patients like me. He's in high demand — people come to see him from all over the world — so it's wild that I got to consult with him. Here's how it happened:

My friend, A, who has been like a ministering angel to me this year, has a friend, M, whose multiple sclerosis was reversed with Dr. K's help. A wondered if Dr. K. could help me so she reached out to M who just happened to be having lunch with Dr. K. the day she got A's text. She'd known Dr. K. for years but had never had lunch with him. Today was different, though. "I'll tell him about Sarah's case," she said.

"I want to see Sarah," Dr. K. told M, after he'd heard the details of my case. And then a few days after that I had an appointment scheduled with him.

When we met on Tuesday, some of his first words to me were, "I have a daughter your age and I am going to do everything I can to help you." Then he walked me through his assessment of my case. His perspective and methods are unlike anything I've encountered thus far (they both give me hope and make me nervous), so he's given me a lot to think and pray about.

Dr. K. is a Christian who once struggled with incapacitating chronic illness, so he knows the psychological and spiritual warfare that accompany physical hardship. And so after he'd outlined his treatment plan for me, he reoriented me to the redemptive, sovereign work of God in my life and the sufficiency of his grace. He reminded me how to pray, and he quoted scripture, and it was like God was whispering in his ear, telling him exactly what I needed to hear.

I've had doctors encourage me before. "You can do this," they say. "You've got the goods to beat this." It always puts a little pep in my step for awhile. But I've never had a doctor act as prophet the way Dr. K. did. It was wondrous and glorious, and I imagine it was the result of all of your prayers.

Thank you for faithfully praying.

I hope you are all having a splendid Friday.

I'm cheering for ya, home skillets.

-Sarah

P.S. Gosh, I love living here:

Sunset Sentinels