God wants you to trust Him with your life...
Breathe... I never thought I would have to concentrate on just that. Breathe is what I recited to myself over and over...
I find it amazing that you can get used to just about anything. Several years back, I felt the sensation of dizziness, and that feeling of no control over my vision or my steadiness had me feeling frightened and left me in a panic until it was restored. It was brief, so I was able to bounce right back, but then it came in like a winter storm, and it took my freedom and peace for nine months. Despite the original sensations, I adjusted to a different normal. Thinking my prayers would be answered today was my hope for many months. Then, without knowing why, it was gone. A phobia of the dark was a mark it had left. But while in those dark months, something happened, something wonderful. I would see the numbers 333 everywhere. I wasn't a big numbers person, but this set of 333s was pronounced in every area I would go in. In those times, I remember just dealing with a lot of fear. My whole world was shut down, and I just didn't have any answers, and this frightened me. I asked my pastor at the time what these numbers may have represented in the biblical sense. He said, "I am reminded of the Holy Trinity: the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost." As beautiful as that was, it still felt unanswered. He then shared Jeremiah 33:3: "Shout out to me, and I will show you unsearchable things." I left thinking that has to be it, but still unsure. Some time after, I am standing in church singing and holding on to the pew in front of me, as the dizziness was apparent that morning. I remembered that I liked the melody of the song but was unaware of what song it was or its next lyrics. As the projection lit the screen and I was in love with its melody, "Now I'm yours, and you are mine, and from my heart a song will rise..." It was as if the screen came to life, and I think my heart stopped beating for a moment when I saw the chorus:
"I Love You 3"
"I Love You 3"
"I Love You 3"
My numbers! Without a doubt, I knew exactly what those numbers meant at that very moment. Jesus loves me. Only these weren't just words that I had believed since I was a child. I literally could feel it. It was alive and tangible. I felt His love for me, and it was not like anything in this world. I was engulfed in such a passionate love that it radiated to every cell in my body. While the church was singing to Him a sweet symphony of I love you, I love you, I love you, He was telling me He loved me. It was like the veil of my life was pulled back, and my whole identity rested in His love for me. There was nothing greater—not being a wife, a mom, a sister, or a daughter. I would have lived in that moment forever. I was no longer holding on to the pew in front of me; I didn't need to. I was at so much peace that nothing could grip me from that moment. I was caught up in His love for me. I could feel my face so tight with sobbing that it hurt, but the pain didn't compare to what I was entranced by. Each of my thoughts remembers the set of threes that now had its identity revealed. During those times in my life, I saw them so often and randomly. I remembered how fearful I was. I had become fearful of the dark due to a night blindness that had developed. I was afraid that I might be stuck in this world that shook violently, that no one could save me from. How I didn't think anyone cared or how alone I felt; He was there with me. Jesus never left me. Even when I thought no one could possibly understand this, He did. Just thinking about that day can fill me with passion like nothing else can. I often escape to that memory just to feel a glimpse of that love again.
Jesus says suffering produces perseverance, which produces character, which produces hope. This would be the hope that I was going to need for the biggest fight for my life thus far. The whole dizziness period left me weary of confined spaces, so no elevators for me. I was climbing 12 flights easily just a month prior on a cruise ship, until this one day on land in a stairwell. I had made just 2 1/2 flights when I lost all the ability to breathe. I looked at my young son and his cousin, who were unaware of what I was facing. I thought I might die right there in front of them. I felt there was just no air in this stairwell and that I just needed to make the 1/2 flight to get out of the stairwell to breathe. With all I had, I made it to the air-conditioned floor, but I was still struggling to breathe. After a time, it slowly got better, but it was the worst feeling in the world. Unfortunately, it would continue to be milder episodes.
Three years later, I was walking down my street, and just like the years prior, my breath was stolen, only this time it wouldn't return to a normal breath. Imagine taking shallow breaths and only allowing the 5th breath to go completely in. Unfortunately, not all of my 5th breaths went in. Something was constricting my ability to relax and breathe. I felt that I did not have the ability to inhale naturally. It was like I was aware of my chest needing help in lifting and expanding. I had to tell myself to breathe—just breathe—which became my anthem, especially when I did too much, which really wasn't much of anything. I just kept thinking the doctors would know what this is and I could get treatment, but that never happened, not even at the great Mayo Clinic. Even though I would have a few new discoveries, none of which they believed were causing the breathing issue. Back at home, some doctors were so heartless and believed it was all in my head, so they stopped looking for the problem. I could no longer do much of anything at this point, as anything would require the ability to breathe. Even at rest, I struggled. It was like there was a disconnect between the brain and the lungs, and no one could understand this, not even me, and I am a nurse. I would get worse with certain movements, foods, or medicines. I found myself searching constantly for my answers. I prayed a lot, and all I could do was wash a few dishes before needing to stop. I did find joy swaying back and forth with God in my living room listening to songs that would literally give me hope to live another day. I remember just crying, and it would take my breath. So I learned not to cry or talk so much. I would have some good days, but most were a battle. My family watched me suffer in ER after ER.
There were days I would walk into church and had to leave because I couldn't get that 5th breath. I remember being in the back row and the pastor inviting those who needed prayer down to the front. I thought to myself, "Lord, how could I ever make it down there?" I remember thinking, I wish there was someone who stood in the back, and just then, I felt a hand placed ever so softly on my shoulder. I knew then God was listening, and the very next week, He would double their hands in prayer over me, and the amount of hope they gave me was so uplifting. If indeed we only have faith as small as a mustard seed. I started to see her—the woman who lived and not died. She was breathing, she was beautiful, she was healthy, and she was me. A song called Scars: "Looking back from the other side, I can see now with open eyes, darkest waters and deepest pain, I wouldn't trade it for anything, because my brokenness brought me to you, and these wounds are a story you'll use." This was my hope that I held onto. I saw her looking back at me from the other side, and it gave me the will to fight. I know how this ends—I get to be her—so I prayed for wisdom. I had faith that I would be healed. My faith was going to move this mountain because that's what Jesus promised. I stopped depending on the doctors to save me and started depending on God. After all the researching, I believed my neck would be part or all of the answer I was praying for. I wasn't able to walk in my backyard, open doors, or push carts. Despite a doctor who told me I would never get any better, one who told me to just let this go, and two neurosurgeons that didn't believe my neck affected my breathing—one of them agreed to perform neck surgery due to the significant cervical impingement. On the day of surgery, it was as if I had a pillar of concrete strength in my torso, and unlike any other surgery, I was calm as a dandelion blowing in the wind, and I had the surgery. Unfortunately, my body wasn't prepared, given the lack of movement for years. I went into a rehabilitation center until I could sit up and walk on my own. Then a wound opened up at the surgical site and dared to threaten my life again, but God kept me calm, and I was breathing, and that was enough. Oh, I had such peace in breathing again.
Months later, I was more mobile, walking longer, and just living life, but bending down to pick up my new puppy triggered an event that would give me yet another ambulance ride. This happened a few more times, and I was in such despair. To have gone through all of this and still I find that I can't do much of anything again. Only this time, I did have breath at rest, which was such an improvement, but I was losing my breath during these events, and I was tired of being this person who was unwell. As I sat in my chair after spending another day in the ER, I was just waving the white flag. I had decided that I wasn't taking another ambulance ride or attending another ER room. I saw her pale face again, and I had gone through so much and I was worn out. I can't win this.
Just as I was praying to God to bring me home, a text distracted me to a song called Rescue, one I had never heard before, and from someone I barely knew. So, confined to that chair, I searched for the song, and in that song, God told me that He was going to rescue me. In that moment, no one else could have ever lifted me from where I was but God Himself. This fight has gone on for years, and as my white flag was lifelessly waving, I heard this:
"You are not hopeless,
though you have been broken, your innocence stolen;
I hear you whisper underneath your breath,
I hear you whisper you have nothing left,
I will send down an army to find you,
I will never stop marching to reach you in the middle of the hardest fight,
it's true, I will Rescue you."
Tears I could finally be free to let flow filled my eyes; my heart filled with such an abounding grace. I believed Him when He said He would rescue me, and He did. He does and He will. His rescue was in the suffering too. I lived in fear when circumstances were out of my control—when I couldn't change the outcome or figure out how to help myself. I looked for my hope from an unkind world who dismissed me; even worse, I let the world tell me who I was. When we give up our lives and surrender to whatever may come and simply trust that God has allowed this, we are testifying to God: This hurts, but I am going to trust You anyway. We must let go of our own desires to allow for His. It is in this that we are truly connected to Him, and He rewards us by giving us the desires of our heart.
For seven long years, I struggled to breathe, and the last three I struggled even at rest to breathe. It was the hardest challenge I had ever faced. I remember somewhere in the beginning of the struggle that I surrendered my life, and I accepted my own death. It was on a rope swing in my front yard after coming home from the hospital. I stood there backed up on the ground. I felt the weight of the struggle holding myself there on that incline, and then I let go and felt the freedom of surrender. I quit fighting for my life and gave it to God. I listened to the song: "I know you're able, and I know you can save through the fire with your mighty hand, but even if you don't, my hope is you alone." I surrendered even if He didn't heal me. I trusted His plan for my life even if it meant suffering. I trusted Him even if it meant I would die.
That was years ago, and I became the woman God showed me in that vision, but so much more than my mind could ever fathom or my words could relay. I am stronger than any definition could ever define. I still have some challenging days, but nothing compared to one of those days. It is in the suffering that my faith grew into a metamorphic mountain. I no longer fear like I once did. My heart belongs to God regardless of my suffering, and I will trust in His will for my life. He is mighty, who not only restored my breath, but He gave me a powerful voice that I have never heard before when I sing. That was a childhood dream of mine, a desire of my heart. Jesus did answer my prayer that day when I was waving that flag. Even though I live in this world, my home is in Him because He is my world. Jesus is our home no matter where we are. It's just like the scripture says: it was all rooted from the suffering. Suffering produced the perseverance, the character, and the hope that I so desperately wanted. I found my home, and I belong to Him.
I made a vow that I would tell the world what He has done for me. There is hope for those who belong to Him. We just have to trust His will for us, regardless of how we feel in the crashing waves. To my Father in Heaven, my Redeemer, I will honor You with all my heart, my voice, my life, with every breath You so graciously restored, and even after... that last one.
by JoJo Kaye
Not only that, but we rejoice in our suffering, knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope.
Romans 5:3-4
But those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint.
Isaiah 40:31
For He will deliver the needy who cry out, the afflicted who have no one to help.
Psalm 72:12
Take delight in the Lord, and He will give you the desires of your heart.
Psalm 37:4
Dysautonomia, POTS, MCAS
Song Lyrics Reference by: Dwelling Places; Hillsong, Scars; I Am They, Rescue; Lauren Daigle, Even If; Mercyme, and Focus On Me; JoJo Kaye
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