It’s amazing how He comes. Softly like the dew of the morning. So often I miss him, roll over into another half hour of sleep. He doesn’t disturb me. He just hovers hoping to catch me with one eye open and He whispers again.
“Forget the former things, I’m making things new.”
I sense Him, recognize his gentle voice and immediately roll out of bed. This is the direction I’ve longed for these last tormented weeks. I need to hear his promise pounding again in my subconscious thought. Something to hold onto when I squeeze her hand again in the theatre gown and wait til they ask me to leave.
The Holy Spirit is always hovering. Waiting for our anxious thoughts to step aside and make room for Him. He does not sit next to Fear. His light expels him. Yet somehow like osmosis it takes a while to seep through that invisible layer of mind and spirit.
I know He is teaching me to be attuned to His voice but my humanity takes over when things are going okay, when things are no longer life threatening. I never thought it would change after last year. His voice, His word was so tangible. That’s His way. “A very present help in time of need.” (Psalm 46)
The word is familiar but I can’t find it marked in my Bible so I search confident that this is not me, this is Him. Finally I find it, Isaiah 65:17 “the former things will not be remembered or come into mind.”
I’ve had such trouble sleeping. All those files of my grief are so hard to close. I need His help. The drawer seems to rebound open automatically during the night. The finger of the enemy flicks through the tabs, bringing them to my remembrance, the images too painful to face but too real to ignore. Layer upon layer splayed out before me like the pictures on my new apple Mac. The deep voice of the doctor, the clucking of his tongue, the dust on the windows, the NSW Health embossed sheets, the drips on the IMED stand, the smell of poison seeping into her veins, the thin trolleys of death and my breathless dash for another bed pan.
Everyone tells me that if you need to remove a body part the thyroid is the one you would choose. Its going to be okay. I know these things. I get it. But it is one thing to know something in your brain and quite another to hear His voice in your spirit. It’s His voice I want to hear; not mine, not anyone else’s.
I’m not drowning in the ocean anymore. I’ve climbed onto the pier, the worst is over but the waves of my memory lick at my heels. An evil force wants the waters of irrational thought to swallow me up, the fear to overtake me, the dread of what could still be. The staff at St Vincent’s continue to reassure me that the Bone Marrow Transplant has been a tremendous success but the words of our previous doctor telling me statistics of death and of relapse stick to me like gooey slim.
I see the enemy in the distance and when I pray God shows me that he is just a boy playing childish pranks.
Then I hear the voice of a middle aged woman. She is educated, well dressed and eloquent the way I aspire to be. “It happens” she says. “Best to be prepared.”
Images, voices, sleepless nights. The enemy seeks to destroy. He comes in all kinds of disguises.
God’s voice rings louder now. His word open on my lap. “I will rejoice and be glad in my people and the sound of weeping will no more be heard, nor the cry of their distress. They shall build houses and inhabit them, they shall plant vineyards and eat of the fruit of them… They shall not labour in vain to bring forth children for sudden terror or calamity; for they shall be the descendants of the blessed of the Lord and their offspring with them. And it shall be that before they call I will answer; and while they are yet speaking I will hear.” Isaiah 65:19,21,23,24