Each morning with careful attention I gingerly turned over and reached for my Bible as to not disturb the joy of the motionless night I just had — a routine I repeated throughout the summer of 1995.
When I was pregnant with my oldest son I was diagnosed with an inner ear disorder, Ménière’s disease. “They” (the medical powers that be) thought it was caused by a viral infection I had in college. Wherever it came from, the long and short of it is, it made me dizzy.
In June of 1995 we had just moved from Tallahassee back to Jacksonville and I had a bout of Ménière’s I couldn’t shake. It wasn’t full on vertigo this time but more like a steady unsteady — like a feeling of no gravity —moon walking even. Trying to take care of two little boys and a husband while feeling more like a person who was floating about and less like one who’s feet were firmly planted on the floor was miserable to say the least. My only relief came with sleep and the words that were in my Bible just an arm’s length away. Without lifting my head I could pull them close. Each morning I’d drink in and savor the hope that would get me through those long summer days.
“To the Lord I cry aloud, and he answers me from his holy hill” (Psalm 3:4).
“He answers me” was a promise I held on to. But when Lord?
Have you ever asked that question, when Lord?
Please join me over on Recharge Wednesday to finish the message and find out when.