A Miracle

So I've been pondering what on earth I should write about. Trying to stay true to my goal of simply taking something noteworthy from my life right now, I think the subject is quite obvious. But, before I get to my miracle, a little backstory is needed (The backstory became a back-novel, so you may want to skip the next two paragraphs if you're pressed for time. So much for concise, but hopefully this will be the exception):

Shortly after Isaiah was born, so going back about 3 years, I started developing a strange skin condition on my right hand. It initially appeared as a poison ivy-ish rash, blistering and itching like crazy, but I knew I hadn't been around any (it was the beginning of March) and it was only on the inside of my pinky. It steadily spread across the rest of my fingers, stopping before it got to my thumb, but causing me to have to remove the ring my mom had given me and I'd been wearing since I was 12. I also soon discovered that it changed in a sort of cycle, going from blistering rash to dry, cracked and bleeding, with a rough feel like sand paper, and back to blistering rash again. It was also obvious that the blistering was made worse by lotion, and the cracking made worse by contact with water. I asked my doctor about it and he diagnosed me with dishydrotic dermatitis. As a new mother, this was extremely frustrating. Not only could I not control the fact that I had to wash my hands a hundred times a day from changing diapers and doing dishes, etc., but I also could now not even touch my baby's beautifully soft skin without scratching him painfully. At least it was only on one hand...

Then Tess was born. Within a few months, I started developing the same condition on my left hand as well! I was devastated. All these beautiful pink satin clothes, and every time I touched them they snagged on my sand paper hands. I soon had to remove my diamond engagement ring because it trapped too much moisture next to the skin and my finger swelled so much I was afraid I may soon not be able to get it off!

Okay, enough depressing backstory, time for the more recent happenings. I felt convicted a few months ago to renew my requests for prayer that my hands would be healed. You know how sometimes, after you repeat the same prayer request and you feel like all your friends must be tired of hearing you complain about something that's obviously not changing, you just kind of suck it up and deal with it. Well, God seemed to be telling me not to accept it, and to keep asking! So, I did. And nothing changed. But every Sunday I would wait anxiously for someone to have a word of knowledge during the meeting that might apply to me and be my sign that God did indeed want to heal me. Well, the Sunday before last, David Harsh brought a word about someone's hands and I think my heart literally skipped a beat. A voice in my head said that not all the details directly applied to my situation, but I didn't care. I went forward for prayer. As he prayed for me, I kept looking at my hands every few minutes, fully expecting that I would open my eyes and find new skin. But I didn't. I did, however, keep being reminded that even Jesus didn't always heal just through the spoken word, but sometimes an action was taken, such as putting mud in someone's eyes or telling them to go show themselves to the priests. I felt maybe I needed to go wash my hands. I decided that when David was done praying, that's what I would do, but I asked God to give David a word of some kind to confirm it. So then he stopped praying and said he saw a picture of me putting something on my hands and rubbing them together, and that it might seem ritualistic, but through that action would come my healing. So I practically ran to the bathroom and began scrubbing my hands with hot water and soap with visions of the rough skin just being washed away. But it wasn't. My hands looked no different after 2 washings, so I went back to my seat and told my husband what had happened. He quickly reminded me that the way I apply a special lotion at night before I go to bed was also a sort of ritual, so with renewed hope I proceeded to apply my lotion diligently all week.

It was Saturday when I first noticed the change: I stroked my daughter's face and she didn't turn away from my hand. I looked at my fingertips and saw smooth skin for the first time in 3 years! Now, my hands are not completely restored... yet; but they are in the best condition they've been in since it all started. And I'm rejoicing in the continued faithfulness of my God, who, by His grace, granted me the thing my mother's heart had longed for every day: to be able to lovingly stroke my children's faces without causing them pain. I am fully believing that He will be faithful to the end, bringing the complete healing of my hands as I continue to ask Him for more.