From the fall until now has, in some ways, been a difficult time. A couple people I know have passed away, one I was sure was going to get better. And my headaches have been about as bad as they have ever been. And I may need to pause there, because as I charismatic, a few of you may be wondering if I believe in divine healing, and the answer is absolutely. I have been healed miraculously a number of times, the weirdest one being the fillings in the back of my molars disappearing…but that is another story.   I have also seen my fair share of healings as well. But for some reason I have not had any healing with these headaches (and it has been numerous years now of daily headaches). Usually the head pain is just low grade, and I can ignore it like ignoring ringing ears. But the headache pain got to the point just before Christmas I was having trouble following conversations, catching tone of voice, being able to discern facial expressions, and following what people were saying– and when you work with people, those are important things. In the end, I needed medication, and I realized that I just couldn’t continue on as I had been. I now realized I needed medical intervention as well. The headache pain, my inability to coupe with it on my own, coupled with the death of a few people I knew, dropped me into an emotional spin. And I was very angry at God, He has the power to heal, I have experienced it, I have seen it. Then why did these people die? Why have I had these headaches all of these years?  On my worst day, when I was the most angry. I was running through the rain pushing my shopping cart back to a storage area at Costco (why are those shopping cart areas so few and far between?) when my cellphone fell out of my pocket and smashed on the pavement. And the warranty I had spent the extra money on, wouldn’t cover it. Figures–I thought. Returning to the office I discovered that our main computer had crashed, and Trish’s car engine had blown up.   What a day, and then it suddenly occurred to me, that things were bad–but they could always get worse!  Which, strange as it may sound, encouraged me. It appears weird in the writing, but I realized if God really did remove his hand, it would all be over quickly.  God was having grace on me, but not quite how I wanted it. I spent the rest of the day pondering God’s grace, why He gives it, and why it isn’t in the form we may want it. That night I had the following dream, and the events that followed caused my thinking about God’s undeserved and mysterious application of grace to fall into place.

In the dream I had been looking for an old heritage home, somewhere out in the country. It was an elegant, expansive, and renowned, old boarding house used in the movies. Tours were still given of this jewel of a mansion, and for some reason I had decided I needed to find it. When I found it, I drove up to the backdoor, I got out of my car, and I walked right through the backdoor of the house to begin my personal tour. Upon coming to the living room, I discovered that the main two or three entrances to the room were roped off with yellow tape. It turns out that this room was out-of-bounds to visitors, but since I had come in the backdoor I had bypassed the proper way to go about things. I was where I wasn’t supposed to be and wisdom dictated that I should retreat the way I had come. As I turned my friend Nan was standing right behind me with a big smile on her face. She had come to tell me that the owners of the house were very glad I was there (and I suddenly knew in the dream that they were upstairs in the study), and that they were very excited that my new book was coming out. As Nan was sharing this news I knew intuitively what it meant: The owners of the house knew I was in their “off limits” room as Nan knew exactly where to find me–but it was also ok, the message was that I was loved, known, and appreciated, even if I wasn’t where I was supposed to be.

Upon awaking I knew exactly what this dream meant. In my anger at God for my health issues, (and the deaths of a few people I knew), I had crossed a line, but God knew where I was at and loved me anyway. And in fact that was the feeling I woke up with from the dream—being known, loved, and cared for.

The following night I had another dream. In this dream I was back in my childhood home and I could see out my bedroom window a lady by the name of Nancy praying for me. Every once in a while, throughout the night, I would look out the window and there was Nancy praying in the dark. The last time I looked out the window I watched Nancy praying for quite a while, and when the sun finally came up, Nancy’s job was done, she got in her car, and drove off.  I must say that I woke up feeling loved, covered, known, and cared for–it was quite the emotional change from just a few days earlier.  Then came a surprise. A few days later I was telling Nan about the two dreams and she told me something I didn’t know, that fit perfectly. That both names Nan and Nancy mean “grace.” Two nights in a row I had dreamt of the same name without knowing it, and in both dreams I was given grace I didn’t deserve.  Then it struck me, when I broke my phone, and the computer crashed, grace was the thing I realized that if the Lord removed it I would be in trouble; and here, in these dreams God had been revealing to me that indeed grace was being giving to me–even with such a bad attitude.

About three days later another application of God’s grace appeared. It turned out that enough support came in for me to get extended medical, the first time since 1996. I am now going to a chiropractor, a massage therapist, and a naturopath, etc., to get help for my headaches. I have been given grace to deal with my headaches, not in the way I thought or demanded it would come, through physical healing, but I’ll take it any way I can get it.  The most surprising aspect of this all though is that even with my anger at God, God still chose to love me, know me, take care of me, and provide. God is indeed full of grace.