I limped my way into church tonight after asking my son to drop me off at the entrance. Normally, I love to walk, but over the past few weeks, that simple activity has become agonizing for me.
An X-ray two days ago revealed what I suspected - an annoying, uncomplicated heel spur. But, oh, how those calcium deposits make their presence known! Anyone who's had one knows they can make even small acts like stair climbing and getting out of chairs difficult. Thoughts become concentrated on finding the least painful way to accomplish the most basic of tasks.
A literal thorn in the flesh.
Despite the pain, I had every reason to feel joyful tonight. I pulled off a surprise for a very dear friend who spent years discipling me in the Word of God. She and I sat together to enjoy the concert, and were treated to special music from the SMS Men's Quartet. I did enjoy their singing, which was heartfelt and glorifying to God, but I must confess my mind was on my foot.
For one thing, I was having trouble keeping it pain-free, even while sitting. In addition, my eyes kept veering from the men onstage to the attractive, open footwear on many ladies' feet (mine were sporting the most cushiony sneakers I own - hardly a complement to my church outfit, but desperate situations call for desperate measures). While the singers trilled praises to God, I mentally made plans to purge my closets of anything my toes could peek out of, and trade them all in for sensible shoes.
I'm sure my mindset had nothing to do with the fact that I spent the afternoon looking up videos of podiatrists using long needles to inject cortisone shots into the heels of anxious patients.
Sometimes I like to know what I'm in for.
When the concert was over, my friend and I went back to meet her husband, who was picking her up from the service. I haven't seen Ed for many years, and we spent some time catching up.
I should mention that Ed is certain he has the spiritual gift of healing. He absolutely loves the Lord, and he believes with all his heart that our God is still in the healing business.
I put that belief to the test almost 20 years ago when I was dealing with - you guessed it - a different heel spur. I had gotten to the point of consulting a podiatrist and having orthotic shoe inserts made. If those didn't work, I was ready to have surgery.
Like I said, these buggers really hurt.
I happened to be at a barbecue at Ed and Jean's house while all this was going on, and casually mentioned to Ed that I could really use my heel to be, you know, healed.
The brand of Christianity to which I've been most exposed believes that the gift of healing has largely ceased. We seek out doctors and medicine, but don't typically call on the Almighty to miraculously heal our ailments. This is one theological area (among many) to which I can claim no expertise, so I can't really comment one way or the other, but it's not been my experience that these things actually happen in our day.
So, you could say I was a bit skeptical.
But, again, desperate situations...
So, I asked Ed to pray for my foot. I remember being a bit aggravated, and not a little suspicious, when he tossed the ball back into my court and suggested I do the praying. He said he would pray, too, but implied that I had the primary responsibility.
Whatever.
I prayed, he prayed, we all prayed.
And the darnedest thing happened. The pain went away.
Not immediately, as I recall, but somewhere between our conversation at that picnic and, oh, I don't know, the next few weeks or so, I stopped hobbling and started walking like a normal person again.
That heel sure seemed healed.
Later that summer, I was having fun with my kids and jumped into a pool, coming down hard on the "spurious" foot (sorry, bad pun). That little stunt landed me in the ER, where I was given an X-ray. I was sure the film would reveal a "spur-less" heel. On the contrary, the spur still showed up, alive and well - but it never hurt me again.
As far as I'm concerned, spur or no spur, the pain went away, and that's a healing in my book.
So, I couldn't resist asking Ed if he'd like to take a crack at praying over the latest albatross plaguing my foot.
This time, he whipped out an item he'd anointed with oil, laid it atop the sweater I was carrying, and murmured a brief prayer. I don't know why he didn't address his ministrations to the ailing body part, but I've gotta tell you, within minutes, I started feeling relief.
In the time that ensued, I tested out different foot positions which hitherto had resulted in wincing and whining.
Nary a whimper.
When it was time to leave, I didn't even consider asking my son to pull the car up to the entrance. Instead, I walked down the steps and across the parking lot, and triumphantly announced that he could drop me off at the top of our street if he wanted to.
Now, here's the mark of a Godly man. When I started sharing with others what had happened, Ed continuously and vigorously insisted on giving all glory to God.
And rightly so. Healing is a spiritual gift which, like all such divine bestowals, only becomes activated when one comes to faith. It isn't an entitlement or a super power or even an innate skill. Only God can grant such a gift, and only He should receive praise for its manifestation.
I'm still planning to go through my shoe racks and dispose of the worst offenders. Just because the Lord chose to correct one physiological problem doesn't mean I ought to go looking for another. That would be stupid at best and cavalier at worst.
The last thing I want to be with this miracle is cavalier.
In fact, in keeping with my "what if" personality, I'm finding myself fending off worry.
Will it hurts when I get up tomorrow? Will that first step when I get out of bed be the deal breaker? What if it only lasts for tonight?
I almost didn't want to write this post, for fear of looking foolish if it turns out to be only temporary.
But I'm choosing instead to take my cue from the man Jesus healed in John 9, "[who] answered and said, 'Whether He is a sinner or not I do not know. One thing I know: that though I was blind, now I see'" (verse 25).
No matter what the future holds, nothing and no one can take away the fact that I'm walking on two good feet tonight after limping for weeks.
In my book, that's a miracle.
And I am so grateful.
An X-ray two days ago revealed what I suspected - an annoying, uncomplicated heel spur. But, oh, how those calcium deposits make their presence known! Anyone who's had one knows they can make even small acts like stair climbing and getting out of chairs difficult. Thoughts become concentrated on finding the least painful way to accomplish the most basic of tasks.
A literal thorn in the flesh.
Despite the pain, I had every reason to feel joyful tonight. I pulled off a surprise for a very dear friend who spent years discipling me in the Word of God. She and I sat together to enjoy the concert, and were treated to special music from the SMS Men's Quartet. I did enjoy their singing, which was heartfelt and glorifying to God, but I must confess my mind was on my foot.
For one thing, I was having trouble keeping it pain-free, even while sitting. In addition, my eyes kept veering from the men onstage to the attractive, open footwear on many ladies' feet (mine were sporting the most cushiony sneakers I own - hardly a complement to my church outfit, but desperate situations call for desperate measures). While the singers trilled praises to God, I mentally made plans to purge my closets of anything my toes could peek out of, and trade them all in for sensible shoes.
I'm sure my mindset had nothing to do with the fact that I spent the afternoon looking up videos of podiatrists using long needles to inject cortisone shots into the heels of anxious patients.
Sometimes I like to know what I'm in for.
When the concert was over, my friend and I went back to meet her husband, who was picking her up from the service. I haven't seen Ed for many years, and we spent some time catching up.
I should mention that Ed is certain he has the spiritual gift of healing. He absolutely loves the Lord, and he believes with all his heart that our God is still in the healing business.
I put that belief to the test almost 20 years ago when I was dealing with - you guessed it - a different heel spur. I had gotten to the point of consulting a podiatrist and having orthotic shoe inserts made. If those didn't work, I was ready to have surgery.
Like I said, these buggers really hurt.
I happened to be at a barbecue at Ed and Jean's house while all this was going on, and casually mentioned to Ed that I could really use my heel to be, you know, healed.
The brand of Christianity to which I've been most exposed believes that the gift of healing has largely ceased. We seek out doctors and medicine, but don't typically call on the Almighty to miraculously heal our ailments. This is one theological area (among many) to which I can claim no expertise, so I can't really comment one way or the other, but it's not been my experience that these things actually happen in our day.
So, you could say I was a bit skeptical.
But, again, desperate situations...
So, I asked Ed to pray for my foot. I remember being a bit aggravated, and not a little suspicious, when he tossed the ball back into my court and suggested I do the praying. He said he would pray, too, but implied that I had the primary responsibility.
Whatever.
I prayed, he prayed, we all prayed.
And the darnedest thing happened. The pain went away.
Not immediately, as I recall, but somewhere between our conversation at that picnic and, oh, I don't know, the next few weeks or so, I stopped hobbling and started walking like a normal person again.
That heel sure seemed healed.
Later that summer, I was having fun with my kids and jumped into a pool, coming down hard on the "spurious" foot (sorry, bad pun). That little stunt landed me in the ER, where I was given an X-ray. I was sure the film would reveal a "spur-less" heel. On the contrary, the spur still showed up, alive and well - but it never hurt me again.
As far as I'm concerned, spur or no spur, the pain went away, and that's a healing in my book.
So, I couldn't resist asking Ed if he'd like to take a crack at praying over the latest albatross plaguing my foot.
This time, he whipped out an item he'd anointed with oil, laid it atop the sweater I was carrying, and murmured a brief prayer. I don't know why he didn't address his ministrations to the ailing body part, but I've gotta tell you, within minutes, I started feeling relief.
In the time that ensued, I tested out different foot positions which hitherto had resulted in wincing and whining.
Nary a whimper.
When it was time to leave, I didn't even consider asking my son to pull the car up to the entrance. Instead, I walked down the steps and across the parking lot, and triumphantly announced that he could drop me off at the top of our street if he wanted to.
Now, here's the mark of a Godly man. When I started sharing with others what had happened, Ed continuously and vigorously insisted on giving all glory to God.
And rightly so. Healing is a spiritual gift which, like all such divine bestowals, only becomes activated when one comes to faith. It isn't an entitlement or a super power or even an innate skill. Only God can grant such a gift, and only He should receive praise for its manifestation.
I'm still planning to go through my shoe racks and dispose of the worst offenders. Just because the Lord chose to correct one physiological problem doesn't mean I ought to go looking for another. That would be stupid at best and cavalier at worst.
The last thing I want to be with this miracle is cavalier.
In fact, in keeping with my "what if" personality, I'm finding myself fending off worry.
Will it hurts when I get up tomorrow? Will that first step when I get out of bed be the deal breaker? What if it only lasts for tonight?
I almost didn't want to write this post, for fear of looking foolish if it turns out to be only temporary.
But I'm choosing instead to take my cue from the man Jesus healed in John 9, "[who] answered and said, 'Whether He is a sinner or not I do not know. One thing I know: that though I was blind, now I see'" (verse 25).
No matter what the future holds, nothing and no one can take away the fact that I'm walking on two good feet tonight after limping for weeks.
In my book, that's a miracle.
And I am so grateful.
2 comments:
As one who's had calcium deposits, I can understand and feel your pain. Although, my calcium deposits weren't in my foot, they were in my kidneys...they hurt A LOT! (aka: kidney stones). Feel better, Ms. Williams! (if you're not already)
Thank you so much, Caitlin. I wish you the same!
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