Last night we were out as a family and near the end of our evening, I leaned over and whispered to Shauna, “I have a headache coming on.” That’s our signal. Uh oh. Better get daddy home. My migraines don’t come on fast, but they come on certain, building like an avalanche in slow motion.
Once we were home, we threw the kids in hot baths to scrub them down, and the storm in my head was still building. Thunderheads were frothing in the waning sky of my consciousness (wow, that was wordy). By the time it was time for me to hit the hay, I stumbled to the medicine cabinet and reached for my happy pills (when it’s close to bedtime I usually hold off taking them until right before bed so they last longer into the night and give me a better shot at sleep).
I had the cupboard open, I was reaching, and then I stopped. God was niggling me again. I’m learning to keep my heart soft to the gentlest of nudges, so I paused to listen.
“No. Don’t take your medication.”
Sigh? Yeah. Let me explain. At the very top of my lifetime cumulative “Prayers for healing” list is asking God for a migraine or headache to stop. And at the top of the lifetime cumulative “unanswered prayer” list, the very same prayers. I haven’t stopped asking, mind you, but I’m skeptical by now. Doubting. Rolling my eyes, even. So when God says, “Don’t take your meds,” I sighed. Maybe you would too.
But I listened. I closed the cabinet door, trudged upstairs, lay down in bed, and hoped something miraculous would happen. Cause usually, if I don’t nail them with meds, these things can pretty much take me out.
Yeah, well… this morning, imagine my surprise when I wake up headache free, rested and bewildered. All I can say is “Thanks, God.” The one major difference between this time and almost all of the other times is that last night’s act of faith was a response, not an initiative. Cool, huh? I love experiencing God’s touch.