The wind and its chimes

Wind chimes are mystical to me and I love to hear the tranquility of them ruminate through the air.  A  fascination with their majestic ways of filling the wind has grown for me almost as much as I look forward to hearing the birds chirp throughout the day.  Over a year ago I moved my favorite wind chime inside to avoid the storm that was rolling in.  I hung it in my office and forgot about it.  Three days later I woke up with the pronounced stabbing pain I had in my kidneys the night before, suddenly afflicting my abdomen.  When I tell you that each new morning brought a fresh ailment, I am not kidding.  The worst part about living with chronic pain is that I have journeyed across state lines to sit under ministries, taken week-long seminars on trauma, studied the Enneagram and personality profiles, went to nursing school, got my B.S. degree in Behavioral and Family studies and sought deliverance from demons and the religious spirit just for some relief.  Yet my body ached so often that I questioned if total healing was in the cards for me even though I specifically prayed for 2018 to be my year of wholeness.

Wholeness isn’t just a nice thought, it is a reality for many people whom I know, especially those who routinely work out like I do. On paper I look as strong as an Ox but have suffered with stomach issues and mysterious symptoms my whole life.  After I was miraculously healed of IBS when I had suffered with it for 22 years at that point, I believed that Daddy would continue repairing my body from the ramifications of body memory that held onto the pain of my childhood abuse.  I profess my dependence upon His strength and I have surrendered my need to be healed through conventional medicine, yet I recognize the anger I have toward my own body when it doesn’t feel well.  I get confused easily and distracted from the things I enjoy like dancing, reading and writing.  When I waste time focusing on the pain and how I can escape it, I become rigid and strive for peace instead of listening to the Lords still small voice in the wind chimes.

One morning I woke with enough startlement to have me question if I was going to need to call an ambulance, much less sit long enough to focus on a strategy.  This was a new pain, one that I could add to my long list of mysterious debilitating stabs that come out of nowhere.  I drove myself to the urgent care because ovarian cysts, appendicitis and kidney stones run in my family, all of which this could have been.  Once I sat for a while filling out the paperwork, my breathing got less strained and clarity came back to me.  It seems in the midst of my search for relief, slowing down brought half of the remedy.  I found a doctor whose office adjoined the hospital and waited for an open appointment in the waiting room.  By the time I was seen my peace had resonated so much that the nurses thought I looked joyful.

The day took a turn toward doubt and unbelief instead of the temporary peace I grasped during my examination. I spent the day getting blood work and tests and was sent home with some anti-inflammatory prescriptions because nothing came back conclusive.  Yes, I had severe pain and symptoms of very real problems, but like most of the times I saw a doctor, nothing was done specifically.  I decided to drag myself to a church where I knew the prophetic was vibrant.  I sat drained and staring off to space with tears slowly streaming down my face. I was emotionally wasted.  The pastor took the mic and said that 5 hours earlier The Lord had told him that a woman with female related stomach issues would be coming to the service.  He asked if anyone under the roof needed healing for that, and I just broke down.  He saw directly into my emotional and physical pain.

Then a man who was dressed like a farmer came over and spoke what Daddy had shown him concerning me.  He described me facing the back of the church in worship but that a rope was tied around my stomach and extended behind me in time to the opposite side of the church.  In the rope were numerous knots.  He then saw a huge boot stomp on the end of the rope and it allowed the knots to slip out as I started walking forward.  He acknowledged my belief that I had felt alone and lost much in the past 4 years.  He couldn’t have known all the details about losing strength and endurance in both my body and spirit, but his humility told me that he understood it.  His message from heaven was spot on and my spirit absorbed the words of promise which assured me that restoration was available.

Following the service I went to a Wafflehouse with some friends and witnessed one of the employees berate and cuss out the cook.  She was my waitress and couldn’t make eye contact with me.  I asked her if she needed any encouragement or if she was having a bad day but somehow it made her entire body re-coil in repulsion.  I quickly determined her inability to receive kindness, so I closed my mouth from blessing her and let her shuffle away.  Then the cook came over to check on us.  He  had missing teeth and looked disheveled but his countenance was glowing.  He began to share his story while my friends and I listened intently.  He too had suffered from many winds of change throughout life that left him unable to enjoy a simple breath of fresh air.  His disability immobilized the sound of sweet chimes in his experiences while lost dreams mocked him much like the disgruntled waitress he worked beside.  I wanted to pray for all of the knots that had bound him with suffering, to slip out like mine had.  After I prophesied over him to feel the breeze of God’s presence, he surprised me.

He kindly made eye contact and said, “You are one of those types who believe for others but not yourself and you have sought long and hard for remedies to emotional and physical pain, but you must believe they are for your lonely soul too.  Don’t give up on love, all is not lost”.  I couldn’t believe he was chiming in on the same truths I just heard that made the hairs on my skin stand straight up.  I had chills.  His words were the rest of the interpretation from the word I received at the church just an hour before.  And isn’t that how Daddy surprises us, giving us confirmation when we need to pay attention to His promises?  He will stop at nothing and will use every opportunity to encourage us in our quest toward wholeness.

In the following months I was before a neurologist who I had been on the wait list to see for two years.  The cost for one consultation was $400 that I was given through a friend.  Without the Lord providing a way for me to receive sponsorship for this Doctor I could have been passed up for another two years.  Then the reminder of that rope with the knots slipping out of them returned to my thoughts and I envisioned a mighty boot from heaven putting the stomp-down on all of the debilitating emotional and physical ailments that I had carried.  With the introduction to Internal Family Therapy and brain passageway stimulation, my body and mind stepped up to the occasion of expectation.  For the first time in many years, I believed and asked for healing that would last and set me free.  Within two months of practicing this therapy modality, my stomach issues were completely healed!

It has been a full year since the intervention of Daddy’s mighty hand into my psyche and being and now I practice Internal Family Therapy from the very office where my wind-chime hangs.  It is conveniently displayed out of storms reach and the turbulence of outside conditions because it does far more for me dangling from the ceiling within my eyes reach.  For when the air conditioner or the heat kick on in their determined seasons, I am routinely reminded that my God can be felt, seen and heard in the most simplest of ways.  I may not be able to always hear what He is speaking, especially if I am pained by life’s circumstance, but His closeness is always felt through the reminder of a breeze. I know now that just because I can’t see where the wind is coming from, I always feel it, and when I need to hear that Daddy God is near, He sounds the chimes.

 

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