The Question that Really Mattered

When trials come upon us, we often ask lots of questions: Why me? Why is this happening? When will this be over? What can I do to get through it? What can I do to make it stop? Will you help me, God? Will Jesus help me?

I have been asking myself those same questions for several months since a new health issue arose that has proved very elusive. I've had test after test and seen quite a few medical professionals and no detectable cause can be found for the agony I'm in. 

I've prayed, I've cried, I've had blessings, and cried again. A couple of weeks ago I found myself on my bed talking to the Lord, dishing out every question in my head which ran in a loop that didn't seem to have an end, just like this crazy problem. My daughter soon interrupted my prayer. I slowly got up to tuck her back in bed. We have Primary songs playing for our kiddos at bedtime, and when I entered their room, "I Feel My Savior's Love" was on, right at the part that says, "He knows I will follow Him, give all my life to Him".

Instantly that struck me, like a beautiful blow to the heart. But I didn't hear it as a statement, I heard it as a question from the Spirit: "Will I follow Him, will I give all my life to Him?" In one of those rare moments where you have an immediate change of heart, all my other questions faded away. That was the only question that truly mattered. It didn't matter if this problem was going to be resolved in a month or a year. It didn't matter if I was given any direction as to who to see or how to help it. Because we are not here to figure out the answers to all our questions-though it is still okay and good to ask those questions! We are here to learn of Him and learn to give our all to Him, regardless of the circumstances of our lives. And it was that that brought me long-needed peace.

God didn't answer any of my questions that day, nor has He answered them since. But He placed that one question in my mind that changed the way I respond to the challenges life brings. I will try to make following Christ the focus of my days, instead of trying to just figure everything out. Life doesn't wait for us to figure things out. But in the middle of it we can give our all to and become more like Him.

From His Palms to Mine

Scars are a reminder of so many things: an accident, a surgery, a seemingly funny stunt that went terribly awry, or a traumatizing event that you wish you could forget. We talk about them as accolades: "Ooo, where did you get that?" or "You've gotta here about the time I did..." We laugh about them, we cry about them, but rarely do love them. But there is one set of scars that exists solely for love, the scars from the nails driven into Jesus Christ's hands.
I have always loved the scripture that says, "I have graven thee upon the palms of my hands" (Isaiah 49:16), something that shows that He remembers each one of us. I came to a witness of that reality when I received scars on my own hands.
Several months ago, I was going through a serious rough patch, and though there were prayers for so many things, the number one thing was to feel my Heavenly Father and Savior's love for me-broken down, imperfect me. I knew They loved me, but I just needed to feel it. A few months went by, and the heavens were silent.
One morning I woke up with pain radiating down my right arm. I thought I just slept on it funky and it would clear up. But the next day, it increased to severe burning and stabbing pains, particularly on one spot on my right palm. That wouldn't have concerned me so much if it weren't for the fact that tiny bumps started to form in that space.
In three days time the bumps became very red and prominent, and a thought came to my mind, "What if this is Shingles?" Holy heck did that freak me out. Shingles! You only hear horrendous things about Shingles! I called my sister, a nurse, who immediately after hearing those symptoms came to the same conclusion.
"Get in to see a doctor, like, NOW!" she told me. Well, that was 5 pm on a Friday night and my hubby wasn't even home from work. It had been an exceptionally turbulent day and at that moment I looked like a hot mess with a home that wasn't in much better shape than I. But I hurriedly shoved some food in my face and soon with Brian home and both children screaming, raced out the door.
As I drove away from home, which I felt I had fled in shambles, I wanted to sob but the tears wouldn't come.  I called my mom and vented out all fears: I couldn't get Shingles, I have two young children and my 14-month-old son had only just had his chicken pox vaccine 2 days earlier (I KID YOU NOT)!! I work with children under 3 and surely couldn't go to work with sores on my hands! I'd have to stay quarantined in my house! Sanitize everything! Wear gloves! And worry constantly if I was passing this dreaded thing onto my children. The pain could last for days, weeks, months! Gah!THIS COULD NOT BE HAPPENING!
My panic attack continued as I sat in the doctors office, feeling like I could not handle one more storm in life.  But that all changed when the doctor came in and gave me news that I thought would shatter my world, but instead, did quite the opposite...
"Yes, you've got Shingles, but I have never seen it manifest on the palms before.  The nerves the sores are resting on are so far beneath the skin, and the skin there is so thick, they may never blister. You've got them in probably the best spot to have them. This is the funniest thing..."
I could not believe it. I found myself smiling and laughing as I talked with her and the reality of the situation sunk in.  Shingles are brought on by stress, something that apparently for me had, haha-not-so-haha, gotten a little out of control.  Heavenly Father didn't alter the laws of the body and stop the shingles from coming, but He did allow them to occur in the one place, the one place, where they could be the least destructive. I clearly saw God's hand in this!
As I drove home, I thanked the Lord for caring so much for me! What happened next surprised me: I felt this gigantic, tender wave of love wash over me. I didn't just know in that moment that He loved me, I could feel Him pouring it on me, so overwhelming that the tears I had wanted so much to cry before cascaded down my cheeks. After all those months of pleading to feel His love for me, He answered my prayer, in a completely remarkable way-through a trial.
Those sores never blistered. I got on medication quickly, which decreased the severity and length of the pain so it didn't last more than a couple of weeks. Mine may be the least severe case of Shingles you'll ever hear of. All that's left is a few small scars that I can barely feel or see. But they are still significant to me!
We all want answers to our prayers, and sometimes heaven is silent.  But then God comes out, guns blazing (so to speak) and slaps you with it so hard that it leaves a more permanent mark. Those times can become anchor moments; moments that, in the aching, the suffering and the storm, exist to remind us of what we already know to be true, even if we can't  feel it right then. That is what I remember when I see and feel the scars on my hand-My Heavenly Father's love for me, and His Son, Jesus Christ, who loves me so much that He engraved me on the palms of His hands. Jesus hasn't just done that for me, He has done it for you.  Think on your own life story! And in those times of distress and doubt, cling to those moments of truth when He has witnessed His love for you.