Here for the Comments--My Response to the Response to My Food Journey Miracle Post

My recent post about my struggle with food received an overwhelming response. Not all of it positive.

I posted my story in the mast cell groups on Facebook. While most who took the time to read were encouraged and/or happy for me, some just weren't.

I don't blame them. Not at all.

Mastocytosis/Mast Cell Activation Disease affects every aspect of human life. There's no square inch it doesn't attempt to claim. To make matters worse, there's no cure, so it's a disease without much hope. Outside of Jesus, anyway.

And let's face it, Jesus causes trouble wherever he goes.

I thought I'd address a few of the comments made, not because I believe the people who made them will read my response but because you may need to. Some of the questions the comments imply may resonate with you. 

And deep down, who doesn't love a good Facebook debate?

The Comments

"I can't believe I wasted time reading this"


As someone who has battled MCAD, this comment translated as, "I came here looking for real hope, and you gave me a fairy tale." Do you feel the despair in that? Doesn't your heart break just a little? Mine does. 

To this commenter, I would offer this quote by G. K. Chesterton: "Fairy tales are more than true; not because they tell us that dragons exist, but because they tell us dragons can be beaten." 

Jesus slayed the ultimate dragon when he gave his life on the cross. His life was for us, and His life makes us whole. In mind, body, and spirit. God is on mission to redeem it all.

"Unless you have a disease that can be cured by...science...we are all stuck with mast cell. Some people needs their meds to live. This gives false and dangerous hope to people. Unbelievable... I have seen firsthand what a supposed cure can do folks. Putting the word cure on an illness known to be incurable except for periods of remissions can and does cause false hope. Wording is everything. There was no disclaimer...only stating cure. If anyone and I include myself in this.. Wants to say what is helping them as far as diet, supplements Et al then cool, but, unless it has been medically verified as a cure with accompanying information this becomes another blog with the supposed miracle cure. As a scientist, I aware people for reasons still poorly understood can heal. Hope is good. Proclaiming you have a cure without science not so much"


I agree--"wording is everything"--though even the best of us get it wrong from time to time. But the careful reader will notice I never used the word "cure" in my story. Rather, I spoke of healing. Why? Because I want to be clear. While medication, diet, and lifestyle modifications helped, these things did not end my disease. Jesus did. He healed me.


"I'd like to give my view on this as an atheist (and I know a lot of you are already placing labels on me for using that word, but please do not prejudge). I do not believe in prayer or a supreme deity that has the ability to heal us....but...I do believe that prayer can certainly be viewed as a form of meditation and there has been verifiable scientific study done on the effects that meditation has on the body. The most recent National Geographic has an article on the mind body effects of being in nature...scientific data. Including changes in EEG brain waves and drastic reduction in cortisol levels in the body. Doctors are actually writing "prescriptions" to patients to spend time in a natural setting for healing purposes. From my own personal experience, I can slow my heart rate purely by relaxing my body (I suffer from SVTs) and to some extent slow the progression of Mast Cell attacks the same way. This has been seen by multiple ER docs while I was hooked up to monitors. Then there is the whole epigenetics issue. Scientists have shown that these switches can flip back and forth quickly to stimuli and rapidly affect how our body reacts...or over reacts. She is not claiming to have been healed overnight. Nor did she do nothing but pray, she also modified her diet and tried other avenues of improving her symptoms. I believe placing this is the realm of religion is what is bothering some of you, but if you look deeper and place what she is saying in a more scientific framework, maybe you can understand better..."

I appreciate this person for coming to my defense. Truly. She was kind when others were not. Elsewhere, she chastened those who left--in her words--"incredibly rude comments," some of which were deleted by the moderator. That being said, we aren't on the same page. 

2015 was a rough year for me. Though I continued to lean into the Lord day after day, my thoughts weren't always positive. During the weeks before I was healed, I struggled with restlessness, guilt, anxiety, and shame. I was tired, beaten to a pulp by this monster of a disease. My mind did not heal itself. Jesus healed me.

"I always have to wonder, if you are "cured", perhaps the diagnosis was incorrect all along."


I expected this one from the beginning. Before Jesus healed me, I told Brandon and my mom that when He did it, people will say I never had the disease. People tend to reject what they don't understand.

But MCAD isn't a diagnosis doctors toss to the masses like beads and candy at a Mardi Gras parade. It's difficult to obtain, which is why I had to travel all the way to Minnesota to get it. 

While I'm sure God had more purposes for my Mayo Clinic adventure than I can imagine, I understand at least two--Gastrocrom (a medication which allowed me to eat without absolute misery) and that diagnosis. He wants the world to know no disease is incurable when it comes to Him. 


"I'm happy for you Melissa. It seems like your body has calmed down by making nutritional changes. The jury is still out on mast cell disorders, so thinking positive is a good thing. My fear however would be that your overzealous claiming of healing might turn around and bite you - should you regress, relapse, get triggered again etc. I've seen many women in this group already speak of going years "ok" than not ok. For me, EVERYTIME I have gone there - psychologically, emotionally etc and believed "I'm completely better now!" Or "I'm finally coming out of this!" --WHAM. I've been sent back to reality. So I learned to be "cautiously optimistic" and to speak about "improvement" and not black or white declarations that only kick my ass later. Just my share/2 cents. Mast cell (so far) keeps me humble."


I totally understand the warning. I've been in remission. And yes--I thought I was better, then BAM! But this isn't remission. I'm healed. Thank you, Jesus! 

"I am taking this with a grain of salt..be careful with the word "cure." Glad you feel better..please be respectful of all here. Religion, politics cross over many people's comfort level. And seems to imply we are all in the same boat and all able to pray our way to wellness. That is simply not the case. And can lead to blaming those who don't believe to the degree you do or in your religion. Makes me squirm a bit...got my armor on for the replies with this one..I will remove this post if the comments become attacks or too controversial."


Writers, to publish is to give readers permission to quote things you never said and infer meaning you never intended. 

Now let's discuss the idea of "pray(ing) our way to wellness..."

If anyone could've earned healing by faith, prayer, or specialness, it would've been Jenny. 

Before her, I'd never encountered such indomitable faith. Oh, how she loved our Lord! How she sought Him! She was humble enough to seek prayer wherever she went. Churches, communities, and even Dodie Osteen prayed for her healing. Until a few weeks before her death, Jenny believed she would live. Not hoped. Believed.

The woman was so magnetic that people sense her pull in photos. People who didn't want to like her couldn't help themselves. Few love others like she did. She was often the sickest person in the waiting room at MD Anderson, yet she stopped and prayed for people every visit. People who got to live. Before she let hospice put her into an induced coma, she prayed for and blessed everyone at her bedside. She sent me a goodbye text telling me how much she loved me. Jenny went out thinking of and serving others.

If we could achieve our own wellness, Jenny would've been here to celebrate her daughter's fourth birthday four days ago. But after two years of intense suffering, she died. 

Did I survive because I'm so much better than her? Because my faith is stronger? Absolutely not. And if my prayers achieved all that, Jenny would still be here.

This commenter didn't need her armor. She got no argument from me. 

Healing can't be earned. It can only be received.

"I am glad you are doing better, but to claim that God healed you leaves a lot of Christian people who are dealing with the same thing out. I find it distasteful that God would pick and choose you and leave everyone else to suffer. I think there are are too many variables to leave it to "God fixing everything".... Could have been shots finally registered in your system after all that time, anxiety dying down after postpartum time frames end, allowing you belly time to heal after a severe infection.... Ect.... Too many variables to leave it at "God chose to heal me over everyone else."


This commenter doesn't understand my God. And frankly, I don't either.

Human inclination is to fear what we can't control and to dismiss what we don't understand. 

We can't control God, nor can we understand him. So we fear and dismiss him. We explain him away.

And guess what--I've done it, too. 

I have no idea why I lived and Jenny died. I have no idea why some are healed and others suffer all their lives. But that doesn't mean God didn't heal me. And it doesn't mean He doesn't want to heal others. 

Truth be told, these thoughts aren't all that unrelated to some of my own, which have led to questions. Lots and lots of questions:

1. Did Jesus ever turn anyone away in the gospels? Did He ever say, "No, I'm not going to heal you. It's my will for you to be sick. Your illness brings me glory?"
2. Does illness bring glory to God? OR is it possible to suffer with something that doesn't glorify God in such a way that God is glorified anyway? Isn't that kind of the spirit of Romans 8:37?
3. Does God send illness? Is sickness of God? Or does the enemy send sickness and then God uses it for His own purposes with the intention of drawing us to Himself and with a heart to deliver us from it and all lesser loves? 
4. Does God want us to cuddle our sickness and hold onto suffering because He worked it for good in our lives? Do we need sickness to maintain our sanctification? Should we? Or do we just need Jesus? 
5. Is sickness the best way to experience the nearness of God? If so, what does that say about the saints in the Bible? They weren't sick. Are sickness and pain the only ways to cultivate humility and dependence?
6. Can we best fulfill the Great Commission when we ourselves are sick?
7. If it was God's will for people to be sick, wouldn't Jesus have been going against God's will by healing them? Wouldn't we be going against God's will every time we prayed for healing?
8. In Scripture, Jesus doesn't only heal believers. Many he healed weren't believers when he healed them. Some left him, healing in hand, without a thank you. So what does it mean that He didn't do many mighty works in Nazareth because of their unbelief (Matt. 13:58; Mark 6:5,6)? What role does faith play?
9. The mission stated over and over again in the Gospels is to preach the gospel and heal the sick. Preach the gospel and heal the sick. Preach the gospel and heal the sick. When Jesus sent out the twelve, he told them, "Heal the sick, cleanse the lepers, raise the dead, cast out demons. Freely you have received, freely give" (Matt. 10:8). This doesn't sound like a pick and choose kind of God. So what's the deal?
10. Could the gap between what we see in Scripture and our experience be our fault? As in the fault of the Church? If so, what does this say about our will versus God's will? If not, does the God who is the same yesterday, today, and forever carry out his will differently now than he did in the first century?

In Summary:

Notice I have all these fabulous questions and no easy answers. I can't offer a satisfactory response to any of them because God is mystery. But here's what I make of my experience with the information I have at this time:

God did not send my sickness. Neither did He waste it. God used my physical sickness to rescue me from sickness of mind, body, and spirit. My sickness was the fastest, most efficient way for God to do this and make me usable. My sickness did not glorify God; I glorified God by leaning into Him through it. God never smiled at my pain; He smiled at what I did with it.

The enemy sent my illness and used it to try and kill me. Again and again and again. He did this because I'm dangerous. He failed because God didn't allow it. God is sovereign.

And yet other dangerous, usable people die. I don't know what this means. But I do know God is sovereign. He is the head of all principality and power (Col. 2:10). Not a moment of this storm was outside of his perfect control, and his character and attributes do not change with circumstance.

God healed me. God used prayer to heal me. My healing would not have happened outside of persistent, fervent, expectant prayer. My prayers. Prayers of family, friends, and elders. The prayers of many.

These prayers kept me alive, kept me close to Jesus, and helped me navigate the path laid out for me. The path led me to a group of people who operate in the Spirit of God. They saw my plight, had compassion, and rescued me through more fervent prayer. They had faith for me when I didn't have it for myself. Enough faith for me to expect something to happen.

My healing was intrinsically tied to deliverance, which was brought about in a personal prayer session (Sozo), a ministry of the group mentioned above.

My healing glorified God. My liberation unleashed more of the Holy Spirit into the world. Now whole and operating in the power of the Holy Spirit, I can better fulfill the mission--preach the gospel, heal the sick and brokenhearted, proclaim liberty to the captives, help the blind to see, liberate the oppressed, cast out demons, raise the dead. Make disciples. Make disciple-making disciples. 

I'm called to give as freely as it has been given to me. Which, you gotta admit, has been pretty freely, so I best be serious about this, yo. 

The miraculous bolsters faith in the miraculous. My prayers are not what they once were because I now believe in the impossible. I ask for impossible things. I believe for impossible things. The impossible has become my new normal.

I know that not everyone I pray for will be healed and delivered, but what do I lose by praying? What do I lose? Time? Energy? Who cares? I get God! Even when the miracle doesn't come. And now that I know it might, by the grace of God I'll never stop asking.

I want to do this thing in such a way that if I'm wrong I'll be the most pitiful fool who ever walked the earth and when I see my Jesus face to face I'll have nothing to regret. And who knows? Maybe one day I'll get to see God do something REALLY cool like raise somebody from the dead!


So yeah...that's where I stand. At the moment, anyway.

Now that I've closed my most recent Facebook debate, let a new one begin. And in the spirit of full disclosure, if you comment, especially if that comment is nasty or despondent, you'll be put on a list and prayed for. You've been warned.

Mayo Clinic Trip: Vignettes Edition

"Clouds"

As our little plane reached the canopy of clouds, I thought of Deuteronomy 33:26--

"Who is like the God of Jeshurun, who rides the heavens to help you,

 and in His excellency on the clouds?"

 and of Psalm 36:5--

"Your mercy, O Lord, is in the heavens. Your faithfulness reaches to the clouds."

For a long moment, we were engulfed in mist. We could not see before us, behind us, or beside us. And yet we were moving. Sight was unnecessary. Our little plane soldiered on, brave and true, in the direction the pilots ordained.

Here is faith--going where God sends when we cannot see, without knowing where we fit into His scheme. What a portrait of this adventure! Trusting a design I cannot envision is easy because of the Artist who loves His medium.

I will fly through the clouds until You see fit to bring me out into blue. When from Your view I gaze upon the world, I will agree with You. I know I will. For now, I trust--in oceans deep and clouds obscuring, where feet and flight may fail--because Your judgments are a great deep and Your faithfulness reaches to the clouds and because You are with me no matter my elevation (Psalm 36:5-6). Neither height nor depth can sever me from Your love (Romans 8:39).

"Shadow"

Along the way I've noticed small clouds drifting below us like cotton balls suspended in the air. They are but a puff compared to the mounting cumuli which swallow our plane in a single bite, yet they cast a significant shadow upon the earth--acres wide and quite dark. So many lives fall under its cast though it is nothing at all as I ride above it. 

"Hold on!" I want to admonish all within the shadow. "It will pass in just a moment."

Perspective alters the size of the trial. When we see through the lens of the gospel and eternity, we rest assured "the sufferings of this present time are not worthy to be compared to the glory which shall be revealed" (Romans 8:18). 

"Bumpy"

"Unless we climb above these clouds, things may get a little bumpy," the pilot yelled over the noise of the engine. "Everyone got their seat belts on?"

Mom and I gave a thumbs up. And we climbed.

Our strawberry-blonde pilot wove his way between pillowy, cotton-bright banks telling lies about their density and ability to upset our craft. We bumped, but not much. We feel the chill of flying so high above the earth. Despite our discomfort, we are safe. 

And dude--it's been bumpy and kind of cold for two years now. The craft hasn't been upset yet.

"Iron"

In my study of Colossians and Jeremiah 17, my mind connects these verses--

"The sin of Judah is written with a pen of iron;

With a point of a diamond it is engraved

on the tablet of their heart

and on the horns of your altars." 

Jeremiah 17:1

"And you, being dead in your trespasses

and the uncircumcision of your flesh,

He has made you alive together with Him,

having forgiven you all trespasses, having

wiped out the handwriting of requirements

that was against us, which is contrary to us.
 And He has taken it out of the way,

having nailed it to the cross."

Colossians 2:13-14

The only thing which could overrule a sentence penned in iron is a nail of iron piercing fragile, divine flesh. The only thing strong enough to overcome the guilt inscribed with unyielding diamond upon our souls is blood spilled from unyielding love. This is the power in us when we are raised by Christ--the only hero strong enough to save us, the only judge willing to take our guilt upon Himself. 

"Feelings"

On May 4th I wrote, "I feel this trip to Mayo is a dark cloud looming on the horizon." Just before I left, I told Brandon, "In case something goes wrong, know that it hasn't." I did not know what to expect, so I considered every possibility--diagnosis, bad diagnosis, no diagnosis, an unforeseen treatment option, crisis, even death--and made peace with each one. So I was surprised by every good that came to me. Oh, me of little faith.

When I sat in Dr. Park's office on May 27th, I didn't know where the consult was going at first. All tests had returned normal. I was relieved not to have a progressive, malignant disease, but it felt for a moment as if I wasn't going to get an answer at all, which would have been devastating after my desperate pleas from the bathtub two days prior. 

But I felt held. No fear. Those Everlasting Arms had me completely.

And then it came--"Mast Cell Activation Disease," which I had suspected for six months.

Relief. Joy. Gratitude. Praise. All came bursting from my stretch-marked heart. I didn't care at all I had been right. I was just thankful to have a name. Oh, how I needed that name!

Never have I prayed a "do or die" prayer quite like that before. Never have I been so confident I would be answered. Never have I felt so brave. "Perfect love casts out fear," Mom has been reminding me. And it's true. Only God's love is perfect. Only His love makes us bold as lions.

Wings of Hope, Arthur the taxi driver, Dr. Park, Mom, a diagnosis, an unexpected outpouring of anointed writing, everyone "helping together in prayer...that thanks may be given by many persons on [my] behalf" (2 Corinthians 1:11)--much good has come of this trip. A gentle, quiet, obvious kind of good. No fireworks. No drama. Just good. Sweet, humble good.

I love it!

Sometimes we have to apply time and prayer to strong feelings to determine whether or not they come from God for some unpleasant premonitions truly do come from Him. Twice on my difficult Friday, they did. They came with a message--"You will be discouraged, but do not despair." The feelings telling me I was likely to be harmed on this trip were obviously from The Enemy. Oh, how he would have liked to rob me of these joys! But God would not have it. 

"But God"--my favorite pair of words to ever stand side by side!

He supplied the faith I needed to "follow the thread" all the way through (George MacDonald, The Princess and The Goblin).

Truly, my Beloved has put a new song in my mouth--praise to my God! I pray many will hear it and be glad and trust in the Lord (Psalm 40:3)!

"Enough"

Over the course of my Mayo adventure, there has been an outpouring of love and support from others. It has been precious to me. Such a gift. But I find it ironic that the attentions and affections I craved so much last autumn,* when I felt so forgotten I might as well have been dead, matter little to me now.
 

God has done a healing work.

I am so satisfied by His smile, the approval and acceptance of others makes only a small difference to me. The love I have received is sweet and good, but my soul does not need it as it did not so long ago.

I read The Freedom of Self-Forgetfulness by Timothy Keller while in Minnesota, which made me aware of the secret of my healing. Now I can say with Paul--

 "I care very little if I am judged by you or by any human court; indeed, I do not even judge myself. My conscience is clear, but that does not make me innocent. It is the Lord who judges me. Therefore judge nothing before the appointed time; wait until the Lord comes. He will bring to light what is hidden in darkness and will expose the motives of men's hearts. At that time each will receive his praise from God." (1 Corinthians 4:3-5)

The assurance of God's praise is enough. Jesus earned the praise for me through His death on the cross, and has bequeathed to me the priceless inheritance of God's applause. I am a performer. I have always loved applause. I cannot begin to imagine receiving applause from my Maker! And somehow, it is written and sure.

The thoughts, support, and well-wishes of others are nice, but not ultimate.

I am free! Jubilee has come! Jenny, these sick rags have finally fallen off! Praise God! Yes, yes--"God has been too good to me to play the victim anymore."

He is so, so good. And He is enough.

*I would like to share a very special "thank you" to my friend and GP, Stacy Conville, who last fall helped me remember the Lord had not forgotten me and neither had she. Her thoughtful, Spirit-inspired care package of favorite scripture passages, worship music, and an encouraging letter was just the handhold I needed to climb out of my pit of self-pity and back into the arms of the Savior. It was a small event which sparked a major shift in my trajectory. Without that package, this chapter may have turned out differently. Thank you, Sister, and know I am taking great delight in paying it forward. Love you.

Mayo Clinic Trip: Diagnosis Edition

I went out on a limb. I prayed for answers. And God delivered.

After years of bewildering symptoms, I was given a name.

A name is such a gift. Your insides never feel quite settled when you don't know how to identify a thing. A name says, "You're not crazy. You are not alone." These are comforting truths when the disease is isolating and causes you to question your own sanity.

I once had an allergist who was as perplexed by my symptoms as I was. Though I began to react to the allergy shots with increasing violence, he continued administering them along with steroids and epinephrine because he didn't know what else to do. After becoming tired of weekly anaphylaxsis, I ended the treatment. Recently, I encountered another allergist who refused to believe me, concluding I must be crazy because my symptoms did not fit with what he knew. Never have I had a doctor who both believed me and knew what was happening to me until Dr. Park of Mayo Clinic.

God bless this man.

After almost ten years of suffering and an earnest, two-year-long quest for diagnosis, Dr. Park told me on May 27, 2014, I have Mast Cell Activation Disease (MCAD).

Within a few minutes of my initial consultation, he suspected a disease involving the mast cells as opposed to a true allergic disease. Mast cells are found in the body's tissues, and promote immunity in a healthy person's immune system. Modern medicine tells us mast cells are disrupted by IgE antibodies. These antibodies are what allergists are looking for when they perform routine skin and blood tests. When the antibodies attach to a specific antigen such as ragweed pollen, they sensitize the mast cells and crosslink. The mast cells then break apart and dump certain chemicals like histamine, leukotrienes, and other nasties. The difference between true allergies and mast cell disease is the catalyst which angers the cells. With IgE allergies, the trigger is specific. With mast cell disease, the triggers are diverse and numerous.

In my experience, triggers are either debilitating or dangerous. Though the differentiation between debilitating and dangerous triggers varies from patient to patient, there are some commonalities. Common life-threatening triggers are fire ant, wasp, and bee stings. Typical debilitating triggers include high histamine or histamine releasing foods (fermented foods, alcohol, cheese, processed or left-over meats, yeast, many fruits, coffee, chocolate, tomatoes, fish, shellfish, wheat, nuts, soy, dairy, etc.), latex, chemicals, pesticides, fragrances, heat, cold, friction, injury, NSAIDS (Advil, naproxen), pollen, acute illness, and emotional stress. (Insect stings, peanuts/tree nuts, and latex are my most dangerous triggers.)

As you can probably guess, a person has difficulty avoiding this many triggers over the course of even one day, so the mast cells are continually releasing their contents, causing inflammation in all systems of the body. The chronic, widespread inflammation leads to quite a range of seemingly unrelated symptoms. The most common symptoms are flushing, itching, hives, chronic constipation and/or diarrhea, nausea, intestinal cramping, chronic fatigue, headache, wheezing, cough, dizziness, low blood pressure, fainting, fibromyalgia, arthritis, neuropathy, and shock. I have experienced all of these, most on a daily basis.

Because Dr. Park is knowledgeable and well-read, he immediately thought of mast cell disease of which there are several subtypes. Some types are worse than others. There are also a couple of altogether different diseases with similar symptoms. Dr. Park ordered specific blood and urine tests to exclude the possibility of systemic mastocytosis, mast cell leukemia, pheochromocytoma, and carcinoid syndrome. All labs came back normal which indicate MCAD.

According to The Journal of Allergy and Clinical Immunology, the criteria for a diagnosis of MCAD are:

1) Symptoms consistent with mast cell mediator release affecting two or more organ systems.

Check!

2) Other diseases with crossover symptoms ruled out.

Check!

3) A positive response to antihistamines and mast cell stabilizers.

Expected. Dr. Park is confident my symptoms will improve with the help of these drugs.

Basically, MCAD is diagnosed based upon clinical evidence and the exclusion of all other explanations. There is no cure for mast cell disease at this time. Not much is known about the disease other than it is real and it can be managed with a strict diet, lifestyle modifications, and relatively tame medications.

My life is unlikely to ever be "normal," but I'm okay with that. I'm not normal, so why should my life be? I have high hopes that the medications along with the continuation of nutritional therapy with Jennifer, regular treatments with Dr. Yakaboski, and regular chiropractic work with Dr. Frieden will eventually lead to a better quality of life. Insect stings will always be dangerous, I will likely continue to make my own deodorant and toothpaste, and I will usually use essential oils before medication. I have no reason to return to the Standard American Diet (SAD). But maybe I will be able to attend church again. Maybe I will be able to go to a movie with my husband. Maybe I can leave my home without a mask. Maybe I won't feel miserable every time I eat or end up in bed flat on my back with every virus which crosses the threshold.

I have no reason not to hope. God's love has made me bold. My recent encounter with His faithfulness has freed me from fear. I am resting in His Word--

"And whatever you ask in My name, that I will do,

 that the Father may be glorified in the Son.

 If you ask anything in My name, I will do it."

--Jesus, John 14:13-14

Obviously, this verse isn't a blanket promise. God doesn't always do what we ask. But when we abide in Christ, we know better what to ask for. And if we knew everything He knows, we would do things in the exact manner He does things.

I never asked Him for a diagnosis before last Sunday because I never felt compelled by the Spirit until then. I asked with a kind of desperation I had not previously experienced. It was a "do or die" kind of prayer. On Tuesday, God answered my request. While studying Jeremiah 17, I came across this verse:

"Heal me, O Lord, and I shall be healed;

Save me, and I shall be saved,

for You are my praise."

--Jeremiah 17:14

It has become my new prayer. I don't know when God will heal me, but I believe healing is coming. I don't know to what extent I will be healed, but I am comfortable leaving that decision in the ever capable hands of my wise and loving Father. For now, I will enjoy His goodness I have experienced here in Minnesota, and focus on getting back home to my Superman and red-headed loves. 

May God bless you all for praying me through this experience. I am so humbled and thankful to be a vessel of God's love and power. I am glad you were able to witness it! If you don't know Him, oh how I wish you would! There is no one more worth knowing! If you want to talk, I always have time and energy for conversations about the Savior.

Grace and peace. 

Mayo Clinic Trip: Naked Edition

"Blessed is the man who trusts in the Lord,

and whose hope is the Lord.

For he shall be like a tree planted by the waters, 

which spreads out its roots by the river,

and will not fear when heat comes;

but its leaf will be green,

and will not be anxious in the year of drought,

nor will cease from yielding fruit.

The heart is deceitful above all things,

and desperately wicked;

who can know it?

I, the Lord, search the heart,

I test the mind,

even to give every man according to his ways,

according to the fruit of His doings."

-Jeremiah 17:7-10

"If I was a tree," I told Mom as I looked up at its crown, "I would want to be this one."

Our bench sat in its shade. The roots sank thick and sturdy into soft, lakeside soil. Its trunk stood fat and strong at the bottom, and reaching skyward, one became two, became three, became four. Supple boughs hung from brave limbs growing away from Mother, and came to life as the wind rushing off the water proposed a dance. We were mesmerized by the waltz. Sway, two, three. Sway, two, three. How many long seasons of nakedness, of bone-crushing winters she must have endured by the water waiting, waiting to achieve such poise and grace. 

Why must she be naked in winter? I want to know for it seems the Lord requires the same vulnerability from me, and the winter has been long. Ten years I have been sick, frightfully so for two. We began planning this trip six months ago, and here we are waiting, waiting over a long, holiday weekend for test results, for the next step. 

But I am like a tree in Louisiana, shedding its clothes in stages, hanging onto my last layers well into winter. I've been fearful to expose too much, afraid of being hurt. I did not know this about myself until last night when God showed me in the quiet and vulnerability of a bath. It has taken all this waiting to really see myself.

When friends asked why I was going to Minnesota, I would say, "Out of obedience to God," which was true. God made it plain I was to take this trip though I could not see the benefit. In my mind, diagnosis was unlikely and the odds of tolerable treatment options were dismal. I planned and prepared out of duty and love for God, but I dared not hope. Hope leads to disappointment, and disappointment after disappointment wears on a soul.

After the encounter with Arthur on Wednesday, I felt hopeful for the first time. The first time. I met with Dr. Park the next day, and left him feeling that maybe my new found hope was justified. He would check for systemic mastocytosis while doing some gentle "fishing."

And then Friday came along, and pressed the hope right out of me. 

The day was long. I woke before 5 with a twinge in my stomach telling me the day ahead would not be like the day before. I prayed, tried to push it aside, and left the hotel at 6 am. Six in the morning, y'all. The day began with blood work, a necessary photo, and "checking" in the dermatology department. An appointment could not be scheduled until June 23, so I was encouraged to wait to be fit in. I was seen quickly--probably because it was Friday.

Though the doctor was very kind and professional, the appointment was kind of degrading. The hospital gown--if one could call it that--was a joke. I was entirely unclothed and entirely unprepared for such a thorough exam which concluded with no clinical findings of cutaneous mastocytosis, a skin biopsy nonetheless, and a psych referral for anxiety. Apparently, my mask had raised a red flag.

After dropping off my 24 hour urine sample, Mom and I made our way to the psychology department. I had been warned by a friend ahead of time to not resist this appointment. It wasn't too bad. A nice lady asked me many, many questions, which led to the sharing of my story for the next hour. 

 

The "container of shame"

She peered at me keenly from behind her glasses. "This illness has left you disabled, hasn't it?"

I hadn't thought about it that way. "I suppose it has."

"Do you feel sad, depressed, or hopeless?"

I thought how to answer, and smiled when the words came. "You know, I used to, and I probably still would if it weren't for Jesus. But because of Him, I take joy in my life, and even though my life is small, I feel like it's valuable."

At the end of the appointment, the psychologist and a psychiatrist sat down with me. Were they concerned about anxiety? No. Depression? Nope. They wanted me to see a specialist of behavior modification for my migraines. Migraines. I was baffled. Yes, I have migraines. Yes, they persist, but they don't make the top 10 list of my most pressing complaints. Weird appointment. But they recommended Silver Lake Park to us, so it wasn't a completely wasted visit. 

Afterward, I was starving and on the brink of collapse. We ate lunch in "our" little courtyard, and made our way to The Quiet Room. The Quiet Room is this magical, sound-proofed space filled with hospital grade recliners and darkness. Mom and I both took an overdue nap. A half hour later, I woke with a start feeling strongly my next appointment would be the most discouraging of the day. I prayed and braced myself.

"Our" courtyard. So peaceful and empty. Mask not required.

We waited a long time to see the gastroenterologist, and when we were finally called back I was underwhelmed to say the least. The doctor did not listen to me. I don't think he read my chart. He recommended a gastric emptying test, an endoscopy and a colonoscopy. I asked if he would do a stain for mast cells. He gave me a blank look, and assured me he would biopsy anything which looked abnormal. He had no clue what I was talking about, and had already made up his mind I had Celiac sprue. He asked me for my departure date. I told him Friday the 30th. I left his office with test schedules and instructions for the gastric emptying test, which required me to eat bread, milk, and eggs and drink radioactive water. The scopes were scheduled for the 30th, which would require me to stay another weekend. 

I was so tired at this point, all I could do was let the information crush me. 

The doctor ordered immediate blood work to test for Celiac disease. As I trudged back to the Hilton Building, I was so defeated I knew the only solution was a song. Not really caring if anyone overheard, I sang softly:

Jesus, Jesus, how I trust Him,

how I've proved Him o'er and o'er.

Jesus, Jesus, precious Jesus,

O, for grace to trust Him more.

After labs, we were finally free to leave. While Mom and I waited for the shuttle back to the hotel, she put her remaining brain cells to good use. I could only nod in agreement. No gastric emptying test. Duh. And the scopes--if necessary--could be done at home. Genius! I high-fived Mom for still being able to think. By the time we returned to our room, it had been an 11 hour day at Mayo. I have no idea how I managed it. 

Grace, grace, God's grace. 

Over the weekend, test results trickled in, all coming back normal. I can see all results on Mayo's Portal application, which allows patients to see consult notes, test results, appointments, etc. online. I've trembled inwardly each time I've pulled up my information, feeling a mixture of relief and frustration with each normal lab. I couldn't help but wonder what those trembles meant. 

On Sunday, we went to Silver Lake. Our thoughts and hearts were still as we watched feathered mothers teach their tiny flocks self-sufficiency. 

I read Psalm 1 and Jeremiah 17 aloud to Mom as we gazed at the tree by the water. My tree. Softly, so softly, God began to speak. Through creation and His word, He whispered subtle truths and made connections in my mind. It wasn't until I was naked and alone that He grabbed me by the shoulders. 

I opened my records again on my iPod in the bath, heart beating fast. And suddenly, I knew. I had been lying to myself. The heart is deceitful above all things. We don't even know our own selves. Until God shows us. 

I have been telling everyone I don't know what I want to come of this trip and diagnosis doesn't matter. But if that were true, my heart wouldn't pound so every time I access my records. All along I've been saying, "I don't know what I hope for, so I will hope in God." But what does that mean, really? Here's the truth--I have not allowed myself to want anything too much because I'm afraid of disappointment. Disappointment hurts.

Stoicism may look like faith, but it's a fake. Faith requires risk. Stuffing desires is not risk; it's self protection. It's the very opposite of faith. 

Can I truly claim with Job, "Though You slay me, yet I will trust You" if I don't give God the opportunity to make me bleed, if I don't put my desires on the altar (Job 13:15)?

Here is my honest desire--I want answers, and I want them desperately. 

Suddenly, I was pouring out my heart to the Savior as I sat in the bath, physically and spiritually naked and vulnerable before Him. And it felt good. Nakedness felt wrong in the dermatologist's office where I was being meticulously examined for flaws by indifferent, clinical eyes. In that hotel bathroom, I was being looked upon with the greatest love of the universe by eyes which see me as perfect and radiant. The love made me bold.

For the first time in two years, I begged God for an answer. I pleaded that I would not return home empty-handed. I sobbed with the psalmist in desperation, "Let me not be ashamed!" (Psalm 25:20) For I would be ashamed if I have come up here for nothing, risking my small measure of health and abandoning my family for ten days on a fool's errand. I reminded Him I had prayed for Him to be glorified. "How can you be glorified unless I am given an answer?" I cried through tears. I know my sight is limited and my wisdom is small, but I just can't see it. 

I. am. terrified. It is so scary to make these admissions to myself, more so to make them public. I am standing stark before you, feeling all the cold of uncertainty in my own Winter of Wait. But here is what I know--God brought me up here. God has led me to this terrifying place of risk, trust, and honest faith, and God wants you to see it. There must be a purpose. There just has to be! I don't know what that purpose is exactly, but I know the purpose is good. I know it will showcase His Son.

God gave me these desires. I didn't go looking for them, so I believe He will answer me. I am so, so afraid. But I believe.

Lord, I believe! Help my unbelief! (Mark 9:24)

"Blessed is the man who trusts in the Lord, and whose hope is the Lord" (Jeremiah 17:7).

Maybe one day I'll attain to the strength and grace of that tree. For now, I'm going out on a limb. 

In Jesus' name, I believe.

Now let's see what He will do. 

Mayo Clinic Trip: Taxi Cab Edition

Aslan is on the move.

Shimmering ripples in the fabric of space and time dazzle our vision here in Minnesota. We stand in awe of the evidences of God's sovereignty. We arrived safely yesterday evening, and though I have been exposed to several triggers which have made me ill, I have not missed a breath or a step. Those Everlasting Arms are flexing (Deuteronomy 33:27). Mercy is holdng me up (Psalm 94:18).

Because this trip was not my idea but God's, I have felt since its inception I should leave the details up to Him. I bathed every decision in prayer. I felt His direction at every turn. But there was one question left unanswered until two weeks before the trip, and we needed to decide--taxi or car rental?

I immediately thought rental. Mom immediately thought taxi. We debated all the practical points. Which would be safest? Which would be the most economical? Which would save us the most stress? We did not know.

I was reading 1 Kings and the book of Acts at the time. In both books, there are examples of God's people casting lots to determine His will. In modern American culture, lot casting is considered to be a game of chance, but the book of Proverbs tells us differently--"The lot is cast into the lap, but its every decision is from the Lord" (Proverbs 16:33). Upon the belief God was leading me to determine His will in a new way, I asked Brandon to flip a coin. Tails. Taxi. Okay.

Our first taxi ride was uneventful. The driver was polite and friendly. He wore cologne, but left the windows rolled down. No big.

Today, we needed a ride to the grocery store in downtown Rochester. Once again, the driver was polite and friendly. And interesting. We small talked on the way to The People's Food Co-op without an inkling of how special this ride would be. We were mostly looking forward to the grocery store. Which. was. fabulous.

It was a mecca of organic, Melissa-friendly food and stuffs. Local farmers sell and trade their produce and meats at the store, which makes them available to the public. Most of the produce is organic. All of it is gorgeous. The meat is local and in some cases grassfed. There is also a large selection of specialty items and natural body care products. Mom and I were in grocery shopping heaven. Seriously, this store made the trip feel like a vacation. I could almost ignore the debilitating pain in my stomach, legs, and arms growing, growing, growing as we passed through the aisles. Almost. Until it began taking my breath away.

On the ride back to the hotel, I felt a nudge from the Holy Spirit as if to say, "Things are about to get interesting." It took a couple of minutes. We were almost at our destination when our driver began telling us about some of his experiences as a driver.

"I've laughed. I've cried. I've prayed with sick people," he said.

"Cool!" Mom replied. "Do you believe in Jesus?"

"Oh, yes. I used to be a pastor of an Assembly of God church."

He proceeded to tell us how after he had prayed for this one man with cancer, the cancer disappeared to the bewilderment of his doctors. He once led a girl to Christ in the front seat. And then he asked if he could pray for me.

"I would love that," I told him.

He took Mom and I by the hand, and began praying. The Holy Spirit fell in that vehicle. There was power in the prayer. I felt a warmth in my chest and torso I cannot explain. And suddenly, the pain all but vanished. I could breathe evenly again. No longer did I feel the need to hunch or clutch my rib cage. Never have I experienced immediate physical relief during or after prayer, but I did in that moment. I was stunned.

We asked his name. Arthur.

Arthur shared with us he was going through his own time of difficulty. No details. I asked if I could pray for him. He said yes. There were tears. I pulled out a handkerchief.

"This is for you," I said.

I told him my pain was better. He let me out of the car, and I couldn't help but embrace him. I loved him. He is my brother. Forever.

When we walked back upstairs, the cleaning chemicals and intense floral perfume did not overpower me. I have enjoyed pain relief all through the evening. Most of all, I have tremendous assurance we are right where we need to be. God has made trust incredibly easy.

He gave me three signs when I asked for one. He worked out every detail. He ordained we take a taxi. He put Arthur in my path as a result. God is here, and He is up to something good.

Thank you for praying for divine appointments! God has already begun answering your prayers! Glory to His name!

Update on Morgan: Surgery went incredibly well. It was not exploratory after all. Her doctor was able to assess and correct the problem immediately. She was discharged today with her pain under control. Praise God! Thank you for praying!

Mayo Clinic Trip: Prayer Request Edition

After six months of thinking about it, praying about it, and planning for it, it seems kind of surreal the Mayo trip is upon us. We leave Tuesday. As in less than two days from now. 38 hours. We are down to hours, people.

A few of you have asked me how I feel about the trip. Truth be told, I am not thinking about it much. I am focusing on the task directly in front of me. At the moment, that means this blog post. For the past week, I've kept a manageable to-do list each day. There is grace to complete what must be completed, wisdom to know what is unnecessary. My days have been full, rewarding, and exhausting--mostly because the kids and I have cooked something up in the kitchen every day this week. Jesus has walked with me step by step, strengthening my soul, making me brave, and multiplying my efforts. (Can you believe I have prepared and frozen enough meals to sustain my family the entire time I am gone? I didn't think it could be done!) The moment my mind wanders from the task at hand to the upcoming trip--so full of danger and unknowns--I abandon the realm of grace.

Venturing outside of grace is like tiptoeing to the edge of a bottomless chasm. I look down into the darkness, feeling all my smallness and fragility. I attempt to imagine what's hidden in the shadows. It could be good. It could be bad. I don't really know. My stomach somersaults uncomfortably. My legs lose their bones. And that is all I can take before I run back to where grace is applied. When it's time to go spelunking, there will be grace for that. Everything I will need--physically, emotionally, and spiritually--is already supplied. But it's not yet ap-plied so I don't look there often. Or for long. And my stomach and legs thank me for it.

SO--I'm taking everything as it comes. I'm neither excited nor anxious about the trip. I am looking forward to walking with Jesus through it all, and experiencing His faithfulness in new ways. I'm curious about His purposes. Will He give me a glimpse of a few? Only the next two weeks will tell.

In the meantime, this is what you can ask of the Lord on my behalf:

1) God's glory. Whatever happens--whether good or seemingly bad--I want Jesus to be honored. His glory is more important to me than answers, my safety, or anything. When you pray for me, ask for God to be glorified first.

2) Mercy/safety. I want this trip to go as safely and smoothly as possible. Transportation is a significant concern. I am so thankful for Wings of Hope. Who could have imagined such a provision? But the plane will be small. I anticipate a fair amount of anxiety on my part. But who knows? Maybe I will like it! Either way, God does not abandon us after providing for us. He will help me out of His goodness and through your prayers. Also, taxi and shuttle services are potentially dangerous even with my mask.

3) Dr. Miguel Parks. I am asking the Lord to give Dr. Parks wisdom and compassion concerning me. I want him to want to help me. I want him to know what he should look for. I don't want a ton of unnecessary tests. Ask God to grant him discernment.

4) Mom. My mother will be my travel companion. This is no easy job. It will be up to her to perform rescue work if I have a severe reaction. She has to help me decide which tests to undergo and which ones to refuse. She is my advocate, and the only person I can really trust on this trip. Please pray for sufficient grace, wisdom, strength, joy, and peace for her.

5) My Superman. I have never been so glad to be married to a superhero, but even superheroes need prayer! Ask the Lord to give my man peace, strength, and patience as he becomes a working single parent for 10 days. His mind will often be in Minnesota. Pray the peace of God will stand guard over his thoughts. Ask that he would keep his eyes on the cross. 

6) Micah and Sara. My main concern is they would feel secure while I am gone. They are sensitive kids, and are used to having their momma readily available. Ask the Lord to manifest Himself to them in ways they understand. The childcare schedule is pictured below. You can pray for their caretakers each day if you wish. Dad is Arden, Nona is Sue, and Honey is Sue.

7) Divine appointments. I see this trip as a mission trip before I see it as a medical one. Ask the Lord to give Mom and me seeing eyes and open hearts. Ask Him to work powerfully in and through us to accomplish whatever He has prepared beforehand (Ephesians 2:10).

8) Helpful answers. I would love to leave Minnesota with a little more clarity and a firm plan in place.

9) Finally, I will ask you to pray for my cousin Morgan. She is more than my cousin--she has been my friend for 15 years. I love her like a sister. She is undergoing a high-risk, exploratory brain surgery on Tuesday, the day we leave for Minnesota. Morgan's neurosurgeon has admitted she is nervous about the surgery. "Nervous" is not a word you want to hear from your surgeon, especially your brain surgeon!

Mom and her mom (Suzonne) are sisters. Our family is close. We find it extremely difficult to leave at such a time, and we just can't understand why God would ordain both events to happen at once. However, we know God is GOD to both of us. We know He is God whether we are together or apart. He is God in Louisiana and Minnesota. We know He is equally present and active in both situations. We have nothing to fear.

Rather than explain the particulars of Morgan's situation in my own words, I have copied her Facebook status below:

"I have now been completely down since the beginning of March and lying flat almost a month. But I have been declining far longer than that. On Friday after getting much worse my doctor called me before leaving town for the weekend and scheduled brain surgery for Tuesday. She will be replacing my shunt for sure but doesn't know yet if she will have to replace the catheter that leads into my brain. Please pray for her as she makes this big decision. This will be the risky part of the surgery for me because my ventricles are slit (small) which puts me at high risk for a brain bleed or for not being able to get the catheter back in or back in a good place which would lead to more surgeries. If at all possible we would like to not have to have this part replaced. Also pray for peace for me and my family. And a speedy recovery. I am by no means looking forward to this. It is my 5th brain surgery on top of 4 other shunt related surgeries in 10 years. I am no stranger to the hospital yet I still have my fears. But my God has brought me through many trials and many hard roads. I know he isn't through with me yet. I maybe very tired a weary of these battles I face but Gods word says that He isn't tired of giving me power and strength. "Hast thou not known? hast thou not heard, that the everlasting God, the Lord, the Creator of the ends of the earth, fainteth not, neither is weary? there is no searching of his understanding. He giveth power to the faint; and to them that have no might he increaseth strength" (Isaiah 40:28, 29) SO I WILL "hope continually, and will yet praise thee more and more." (Psalms 71:14)."

Note: Morgan is wife to Nathan and mother to Shelby, age 4. Shelby and Micah are best friends.


One final thought--If something goes wrong, know that it hasn't.

I wrote these words in my journal the other day. I spoke them to Brandon today on our date.

 Let's decide now we will abide in this mindset. My trip and Morgan's surgery were planned before the beginning of time--small events woven into a fabric of glorious, grand proportions. God is weaving our threads into beautiful purposes. He sees the big picture. He knows what He is doing. His heart is kind, and His purposes are good. We can trust Him. I speak this over me, my family, over Morgan, and over you, Dear Reader--"If something goes wrong, know that it hasn't." Not really and not forever.

Mom and I will post updates to Facebook. For those of you who are not on Facebook, we will also send out texts. We only need your cell number. You can email your number to melkeaster@gmail.com. If you are on Facebook, but would also like to receive texts, please let me know.

Thank you for taking an interest in my life and my family. Thank you for reading my thoughts and praying for me for the past two years. Thank you for praying now. God bless you.

A perfect way to wake up on Sunday morning. I'm gonna miss these monkeys while I'm gone. 

All three of them.

Afraid to Hope: My Feelings About Mayo

From the moment I made the decision to go to Mayo Clinic, I doubted myself. Not for a moment have I truly believed I will receive help there. Not for a moment. The best outcome I can foresee is a possible diagnosis, and I am not certain I will even receive that. I have changed my mind a hundred times. The question I have asked again and again is, "Is a diagnosis worth risking my life and health, leaving my husband and children for a long period of time, placing this burden upon my entire family, lending myself to the mercy of doctors and a system I do not trust, subjecting myself to a myriad of dangerous and painful tests, and incurring an incredible medical debt?"

My mind answers with a resounding "no." I have done my research. I am aware of the recommended treatments for mast cell activation diseases, and I have tried them. They didn't help. Thus, I turned to natural medicine. I stand by my choice. I am aware of several people with mast cell disease who have improved using natural methods. Looking to Mayo feels like a betrayal of my beliefs. The idea of leaving my husband and children for an indeterminate amount of time grips my heart with steel and ice. When I imagine what it will be like up there, I cannot breathe. But when I stop mentally listing the meager pros and numerous cons and bring my struggle before the Lord, I am enveloped in an ubiquitous sense of peace I cannot argue away.


During the early pitch black hours of February 1, thought and spirit were battling once again when I recalled the story of Gideon. I had read Judges 6 the morning before. The story begins with Gideon threshing grain in secret for fear of the greedy, destructive Midianites who were oppressing Israel at the time. In his fear, the Lord declares to Gideon, "The Lord is with you, you mighty man of valor!" (v. 12) God tells Gideon he will save Israel from the Midianites, but he was slow to believe. Gideon was least in his father's house and of the weakest clan of his tribe (v. 15) and very like me--lily-livered. He felt the enormity of the calling, and it terrified him. He knew he would not be able to take the first step unless he was beyond certain the Lord was with him. So he asked for a sign. And another. And another--until he was forced to believe the word of Yaweh.

When I read the story, I certainly identified with Gideon, but what struck me is God's response. God could have passed him over or killed him for his lack of faith, but He patiently fulfilled all three signs--each one slightly more ridiculous than the one before. The reason for God's patience, I think, is that He saw in Gideon a heart willing to obey Him even to his death if only he could be sure it was God leading him there. I think this resolve is the reason God calls him "a man of valor." He doubted himself, not God. So the Lord did what was necessary to meet Gideon where he was in his mustard seed sized faith, proving to His man that He was with him. It was God's response to Gideon that gave me the courage to ask Him for a sign of my own.

Up until then, I was trusting the fulfilled sign my mother had been given, the wisdom of the three praying women I consider to be my spiritual mentors, and the deep seated feeling in the center of my stomach telling me to go in spite of my hesitation. For a person with a bit more faith, these things probably would have been sufficient. But I am like Thomas--disbelieving the evidence of my own eyes because my mind is so assured of the facts.

I told Him I couldn't go to Mayo unless I was absolutely certain He wanted it. I couldn't do it to myself or my family. I could only go if I knew. So I asked God to do something simultaneously difficult and easy. I asked for a good word about Mayo from an unbiased source if I was to go and a bad word about Mayo from an unbiased source if I was not to go. I told Him I wouldn't make an appointment until I had an answer. I was honestly hoping I wouldn't have to make an appointment at all.

The sign was difficult because I don't often speak with unbiased sources. I see or hear from about ten people on a weekly basis, and two of those are my kids. Everyone close to me has an agenda, and though those agendas differ, the aim of them all is my improvement. These people love me fiercely, and they all have different opinions about what is best for me. Not one of them was qualified to give the word. So that left phone calls and Facebook, and it's unusual to get an unbiased opinion on Facebook. The request was also easy because it was just a word and well--it's God. He can make a donkey speak if He wants.

On February 5, I was driving into town for an appointment and making conversation with Jesus. I told Him that I knew how He did things. I knew He was going to wait until the last possible minute to deliver the sign. He may even seem late to me, but I believed He would send the word. I was watching and waiting for it.

Later that evening, I had an impromptu Skype session with my friend, Madonna Gil. I don't remember which one of us brought up the topic--Madonna told me she had considered going to Mayo for her own disease, but she wasn't sure they could do anything for her. As she said this, I was preparing to tell her about the sign I had asked of the Lord. Before I could get it out of my mouth, she told me that her former roommate's parents had both gone to Mayo, had loved it and strongly encouraged her and anyone to go.

There it was: an entirely unbiased good word. Madonna even echoed my own feelings about the place. I told the Lord only a few hours prior that I was watching and waiting. The sign was on the tip of my tongue as she gave it. And still I tried to explain it away! I argued details like "It wasn't her experience" and "I may have been the one to bring up the subject, so it doesn't count." I didn't know how badly I didn't want to go until that moment. A corner of my mind fretted and prayed about the thing as my friend and I continued our conversation until a sharp, clear command rolled across my brain like one of those moving LED banner screens--"Stop! I have delivered the sign you asked for just as you asked for it."

I shared the entire story with my friend before we ended our conversation. "You were the mouthpiece of God for me today, and I hate you just a little bit for it," I told her with a smile. "I wanted the answer to be 'no.'"

I thought about what I was going to have to do as I laid upon my bed that night, which resulted in an acute panic attack. I thought about how I'm going to be in a nasty, toxic hotel room that will make me very sick, how I'm going to have to go into a hospital full of chemicals and people and doctors who are going to look at me like a commitable lunatic, how I'm going to have to subject myself to tests which could be extremely painful and even life threatening for me, how I'm going to be so very lonely even with my mother there, how I'm going to yearn for my husband and children, how I'm going to be the sickest I've ever been in my life, how hard it's going to be to source and prepare food I can eat while being that sick, how much it will cost, how I could get sicker or even die while there. And all for what? A diagnosis?

In my turmoil, I remembered that God is not the author of fear. I found some peace through prayer and scripture which came to mind. I acknowledged that God was within His rights to send me to my death if He wished, and if He was going to kill me, I was sure He had a perfectly good reason.

Real peace came the next morning. I was reading Judges 13 in which the Angel of the Lord came to Manoah and his wife to tell them they would have a son who would begin to deliver Israel from the Philistines. Manoah offered to prepare a meal for the Angel before He left them, but Manoah was instructed to offer a burnt offering instead. The Lord ascended to heaven on the flame of the offering, and the spectacle was so magnificent that Manoah and his wife fell on their faces. Manoah lamented that he would surely die because he had seen the glory of the Lord.

"But his wife said to him, 'If the Lord had desired to kill us, He would not have accepted a burnt offering and a grain offering from our hands, nor would He have shown us all these things, nor would He have told us such things as these at this time.'" (Judges 13:23)

Even now, tears spring to my eyes as I ponder God's goodness, faithfulness, kindness and patience.

The Fear immediately retaliated against my joy, attempting to quell the beacon of light shining into my heart. "It will be the darkest hour of your life thus far," he whispered.

A brighter light--"I AM nearest when the night is darkest."

I trembled at the thrilling thought. Oh! How near and precious He has been in the past! Do I dare to imagine greater joy and intimacy? For that I'll go! It will be worth it!

I would like to tell you doubt no longer plagues me, but I can't. I feel like I'm giving up on something I haven't given a fair chance to work. I feel like I'm betraying a part of myself. I really believe in natural, holistic medicine. Though it may not be evident to everyone, I am better because of it. My family is better because of it. When people come to me for advice, I share the gospel of natural medicine as freely as I share the gospel of Jesus Christ. I wouldn't do that if I didn't have faith in it.

But natural medicine cannot be my Savior. I already have One, and He demands all of my faith and trust. I do not serve an ideology. I serve a Living God who is wild, multifaceted, unpredictable and relentless. He will do what He wants, how He wants, using who He wants. He has reminded me that just because He is now leading me to Mayo Clinic doesn't mean He is leading me away from natural medicine. Though I am venturing to a new place, I am not to abandon what I have learned. Instead, I will use it as a shield and filter for the next leg of the journey. 

And who knows? I may be wrong. I'm often wrong, and God likes to point out my wrongness at every turn. Maybe they can help me. Whether they can or not, nothing can be allowed greater respect and reverence in my life than the Spirit of the Lord. I am first and foremost His. I am not my own. I must follow where He leads even when I don't understand. Even when I disagree. As Timothy Keller says, "Obedience is hard; disobedience is impossible."

Truly, this is a leap of faith for me. I am diving head first into the unknown. The mist is thick and the darkness deep. I haven't the smallest inkling of how far I will fall or what the terrain is like at the bottom of the abyss. I am afraid to hope. If I hope, I may find myself in a sea of disappointment, and those are treacherous waters indeed. But there is one thing I can count on--no matter how far I fall, "underneath are the everlasting arms" (Deut. 33:27).

Please pray:

• for peace and courage
• for needed arrangements (private flight, hotel with kitchen, local source of safe food, appointments, child care, family care, transportation while we are there)
• for the doctors I will see
• for all of God's purposes to be fulfilled
• for safety
• for my man and kids

I will call in a couple of weeks to set up my appointments. I will update here as things unfold. I am excited to experience and share what God has in store!

Update:

My body is still struggling with daily reactions, fatigue and insomnia. Recently, my pain has been especially bad, particularly in my joints and lower back. I am very excited to report that Jennifer Nervo, a nutritional therapist and author of the blog 20 Something Allergies has taken on my case. The idea is to thoughtfully nourish myself to better health! Once I begin dietary and supplemental protocol, I will post regular reports of my improvement on Facebook and/or here. 

Also, I have an opportunity to safely attend church now! My grandparents' congregation is small, and only a handful of regular attendees go to the Sunday night service. My grandparents have offered to ask everyone to omit their fragrances for my sake. When I am feeling strong and well, I will attend services there. I am thrilled! I have really missed church!

The Secret of the Cosmic Scales

I have been on quite the journey since Thanksgiving. My latest little crisis forced me to face some harsh realities--physically, emotionally and spiritually--and though I am a bit bruised with all the jolting around, I am in a better place for it. The Lord's leading isn't always gentle, but hallelujah!--He never lets go of the hand that reaches for Him.

As our burdens press us, weighing us down, He is present in equal measure, holding us up with His mercies (Psalm 94:18). In Morning by Morning, Charles Spurgeon writes about what I call "The Secret of the Cosmic Scales," based on 2 Corinthians 1:5--"Here is a blessed proportion. The Ruler of providence bears a pair of scales--in this side He puts His people's trials, and in that He puts their consolations. When the scale of trial is nearly empty, you will always find the scale of consolation in nearly the same condition. When the scale of trial is full, you will find the scale of consolation just as heavy. When the black clouds gather most, the light is more brightly revealed to us...." (from February 12).

Sometimes the light brings warmth and clarity. Sometimes it exposes the darkest corners of the heart. I have experienced both as you will see in my journal entries. (These entries have been edited for the sake of space, grammar, flow and a small measure of privacy.)

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11/29/13

"I think it's time to look into a major research hospital like John Hopkins or Mayo," Mom said. Her thoughts were echoed by my prayerful grandmother later in the day.

Miserable and confused though I am in the wake of my latest reaction and resulting flare, I am not so sure. The words resonate in the deep places, but I am afraid. I fear the danger, the expense, the difficulty, the time away from my kids, the hardship on my family, but most of all I fear the possibility of being disappointed--again. I'm not sure I could take it. If I go, I must know beyond all question God wills it.

Brandon and I are against this, God. So if it is Your will, change our minds.

11/30/13

I talked to Mom on the phone this morning. She has been researching. She believes I have a type of "mast cell activation disease." If so, Mayo is the place to go.

After reading several medical articles about the disease, I am almost certain she is correct. While there is no way to be sure without proper testing, it is the only disease we know of which covers all of my symptoms, and indeed, I have almost all of them. It explains not only everything I am experiencing in this moment, but also what I have experienced throughout my life. I am both thrilled to have answers and saddened to discover there is no cure. Mast cell disease is usually managed by a mountain of medication (which I am unwilling to take) and avoidance of triggers (which I am already doing to the best of my ability).

So, what can they do for me at Mayo? I have already proven that I do not tolerate antihistamines or steroids. I see little point in the exercise. Why go if I cannot tolerate treatment? I can change my diet and continue my routine here.

From Jesus Calling: "Talk with Me about whatever is on your mind, seeking my perspective on the situation. Rather than trying to fix everything that comes to your attention, ask Me to show you what is truly important. Remember that you are en route to heaven, and let your problems fade in the Light of eternity."

"I will instruct you and teach you in the way you should go;

I will guide you with My eye." --Psalm 32:8

Lord, I give you my problems. Please show me what is important to You.

12/3/13

I suppose there is no harm in running a couple of preliminary tests locally. As clear as a whisper in my ear, God spoke the name, "Dr.__________," which is interesting because of all the doctors I have seen, he may be my least favorite. Sigh. I will call his office.

12/4/13

"Be humble and pretend to be unintelligent," I was advised prior to today's appointment with Dr. ________, but I had already ruined the appointment before I arrived at the office. I was unaware I was speaking with the nurse when I scheduled the appointment the day before. My words were pretty snarky and sarcastic, which alerted me to something rotten within myself. I said stupid things stupidly. From the moment the nurse attached my face to my name and voice, she was cold. As was Dr.___________. He was obviously warned of me. He probably remembered me, too, which couldn't help.

I took the advice I was given. I was soft spoken. I put my inner Hermione Granger aside, and pretended to be clueless. But he called me out when he grew tired of listening to my long list of symptoms for the second time. "So what would you like me to do? Why are you here?" he asked. Because I had told the nurse which tests I wanted run when I scheduled the appointment, he already knew the answer to the question and was waiting for me to ask. The entire exercise was awkward and unpleasant, and it's all my fault. He softened just a bit at the end of the appointment when I said, "I appreciate all your help," but irrevocable damage has been done by my lack of discretion. The fact that he thinks I'm a hypochondriac doesn't help matters.

However, I have learned something about myself from the experience: I have been deeply hurt, and I blame medical doctors for my pain. But that isn't fair. First of all, no doctor goes about trying to hurt his patients. They may not always know how to help, but they never intentionally do harm. Also, Dr. ____________ tried to run these tests 18 months ago. I apparently refused them though I have no recollection of the term "tryptase" prior to last week, and if I did, I certainly wouldn't have understood the significance then. Doctors are only human. They have all been blinded until now. The doctors did not cause my suffering; God did. God blinded them.

For years, I have blamed doctors for their poor and inadequate treatment when the truth is that God could have turned on a light bulb for any one of them had He wanted to. Therefore, the only logical conclusion is that He didn't want to. He has me on a journey, and the destination is not all about physical healing. It may not be about that at all. He has a purpose in mind, and His purposes are all good whether or not they include diagnosis, treatment and healing. I have to let go of my pain which comes from the anger, defensiveness, and blame I feel toward the medical community, which I now need. Doctors are not my enemy. 

Here I am, Lord. I blame You. I blame You, and I thank you for my pain; not because pain is good, but because You are good and you mean this pain for my good. My pain, my deep hurt, is a mercy because it sends me to You. I acknowledge that you have darkened minds and will shine a light when and where and upon whom You will.

12/7/13

As I was crying moments ago over the life and death of David Brainerd as told in Piper's The Hidden Smile of God, the thought came to me--"How carelessly Brainerd and Jonathan Edwards regarded health." In answer, God replied, "And you hold it altogether too precious." Out of the exchange flowed a liquid revelation. I could only float along--

I must be careful to view my health, whether good or poor, as a tool for God to wield as He desires for His glory. It is better to hold it in mean esteem than to hold it too dear. Souls are at stake. My soul, Brandon's soul, the souls of my children and whoever else God places in the wake of this illness. Eternal souls are far more precious than mortal lives, than my mortal life. I must be careful of idolatry.

12/9/13

I don't know the correct course. Every time I think I know the next several steps to take, I encounter something which holds me back. I am still "The Planner." I want to know what's next and prepare myself, but God is asking me to trust, to wait, to obey. I remind myself my burden is light in comparison to the weight of glory (2 Corinthians 4:17).

12/11/13

Struck with insomnia once again, I spent some dark, quiet moments in prayer tonight before rising out of bed to write. At least insomnia can be useful. I was praying for ____________ and ______________, telling the Lord how hopeless their situations seemed to me. He spoke the word "seemed" back to me with emphasis. Because of Jesus, no situation is truly hopeless. Their is hope in life and in death "because we do not look at the things which are seen but the things which are unseen because the things which are seen are temporary [not real] and the things which are unseen are eternal [true, real] (2 Corinthians 4:18)." So I prayed for them and others and myself that we would all have eternal eyes, that we would know "the hope of [our] calling, the glorious riches of [our] inheritance in the saints and the exceeding greatness of His power toward us who believe (Ephesians 1:18-19)."

12/13/13

My test results all came back negative. All this means is that I am unlikely to have systemic mastocytosis, and I will receive no further help from Dr. _________ unless it's a psychiatric referral. I don't know what to do. A big part of me just wants to drop it, and continue as I am. I feel no inclination to pursue diagnosis or avoid it. I feel totally at peace. I will put this aside until after Hannah's wedding. I must concentrate on being well enough to attend.

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I was able to attend the wedding with very few complications. Praise the Lord! On Sunday, I wrestled as I rested and recovered. It was not a struggle of fear. I was simply asking as Abraham did in Genesis 15, "Oh Lord God, how shall I know?" I was back and forth on whether to pursue things further, feeling like I should but questioning my motives and weighing the cost.

I found a couple of mast cell disease groups on Facebook, and read several posts. As I read the stories and questions of others, I began to understand the value of a diagnosis. We must understand things in our minds at some level before our hearts can believe them. I needed to know the practical points of having a diagnosis before being convicted of its worth.

1) Without a diagnosis, I can get very little accomplished in the medical community. Running tests and getting at-home care have proven to be a bit of a nightmare. With a diagnosis, the specialists I encounter are less likely to think of me as a nutter and actually work with me.

2) If I ever have an accident or need surgery, I need a diagnosis in my records so the doctors/surgeons will know to be careful with me and be prepared for life threatening situations during and after surgery.

3) If something happens to Brandon and I am unable to work, I need to be able to apply for disability. I must have a diagnosis to do that.

4) Many conditions are genetic. It is important I know what is wrong with me so I can better care for my children. They already share several of my symptoms though theirs are not as severe at this time.

And there are other reasons. Shallow and stupid though it is, I want a name to give people when they ask me what is wrong with me. I don't care they won't understand the name or what it means; I just want to be able to give an explanation in five words or less. Knowing what is wrong will give me better insight in caring for myself. I will likely continue with natural medicine exclusively because antihistamines and steroids have turned on me in the past and because I have found mast cell disease patients who are doing quite well only using natural protocol, but it is never a bad thing to know the treatment options. Also, I have a rabid curiosity that needs to be put down. And I can trust that whatever it is that is wrong with me, whether it's mast cell disease or something else, Mayo will dig until they find it.

It was Monday morning before I officially decided I would pursue diagnosis with Mayo Clinic in Rochester, MN. I also decided I will wait until May. I will have to be away for a minimum of two weeks, so we will need all hands on deck. My mom finishes school in early May. She may actually be my travel companion due to the length of the stay and her background in medical laboratory science. Six months also gives me time to arrange my affairs. If we fly, I will have to arrange a private flight. Driving will require lots of planning. I need to find a suitable place to stay. Hotel rooms do atrocious things to my health. The kids will need looking after. And six months gives God time to redirect us if He wishes.

I have been consistently asking God for clarity, and He gave it to me Monday night. My sweet friend, Caroline, who is much like me in health and beliefs about healing, is also in the middle of a health crisis. In rare form, she visited the ER the other night and was referred to none other than Mayo Clinic in Rochester. She spent the day there today (Tuesday). We often find ourselves on similar wavelengths concerning our health. I was astounded that the day I made my decision, she was referred to the very hospital we have chosen. How very kind of God to confirm my decision in such a clear, personal way!

So you see, on one side of my "cosmic scales" sat a health crisis and all the grief that accompanies it, a big decision, revelation and repentance of hidden sin, and a major family event. On the other was God's exquisite nearness, loving rebuke, clear direction and extravagant goodness. I am still amazed that I am happiest when life gets hard, but that is the reality of life lived with Jesus Christ.

You may be struggling as I am to "get into the Christmas spirit" this year. I haven't been in the mood for festivities. I haven't had much patience for Christmas pop tunes. Give me Christmas worship! Worship is what the heavy-laden spirit needs. I invite you to experience with me the greatest gift of Christmas--Emmanuel, God with us. No matter the brand or weight of your suffering, God sees. He knows. He cares. Little or big. Sickness or grief. Draw near to Him this Christmas season. Rest your head upon His breast. Allow Him to fill your loneliness, provide balm to your wounds and bring joy to your sorrow. Blessed are you if you mourn. You will be comforted. Blessed are you if you hunger. You will be satisfied. (Matthew 5)

"Troubled believer, do not fret over your heavy troubles, for they are the heralds of weighty mercies."
--Charles Spurgeon, Morning by Morning, February 12.