Posts Tagged ‘spiritual abandonment’

Before I continue, please allow me to point out this is a story about my journey … the miraculous, good, the bad, the controversial, and the ugly. It may at times be shocking or alarming to some of you, but this is about my journey and what I am learning … and it might not match your experience and what you are learning. But that’s OK. We are each on a path and can only be where we are when we are there … no sooner and no later. I’m totally real and open about my experiences. So my apologies if some of you find this upsetting, but if YOU find it upsetting, imagine how I found it. Thankfully, God knew all about all of this before I was ever conceived. Thankfully, I did not … or did I? :) Now on to our previously scheduled program:

When I came out of that hospital, I felt so abandoned by God … so alone … where was He in all of this anyway? I had stood on His Word so hard, so relentlessly … and this was what I got for my efforts? Almost dead with multiple bowel obstructions and a belly full of cancer, weighing in at 99 pounds? He healed all their sick … except me?

I had never felt so alone. I have been Christian all my life and Spirit-filled since I was 9. I had never once experienced a time, even when I was at my very worst, running around promiscuously, drunkenly, and drugged to the gills, when He didn’t show up all over the place if I but whispered His name. But not now. I could scream His name and hear crickets. So it wasn’t as though I was angry and just gave God the silent treatment. I tried my best to talk to Him about it … after all, He’s the one who said, “Come, let us reason together.” But if He was reasoning with anyone, it certainly wasn’t me.

Couple that with what I had just experienced, and my obstinate personality, and that became one big period of “whatever” as far as God was concerned. No one had any answers for me … there are some things to which we just don’t have them. Not on this plane. Not my friends; not even my pastors. Everyone looked at me like a deer in the headlights when I explained how I had believed the healing promises that now appeared to be totally untrue … and if those promises were untrue, how could I even believe the promise of salvation, heaven, etc.? I never rejected my belief in a Creator; I just wasn’t sure what form He, or It, took any more. I had always been able to feel His presence in and around me, if I just tuned in … now there was nothing but tumbleweeds and howling wind. Didn’t matter how loud I screamed … didn’t matter how hard I begged … He was nowhere to be found and I was left with desolation and despair.

I still pinged Him, from time to time. By this time, I figured there was some reason I was plunged into such icy cold water and there was something I was to have learned from the whole experience. But I had no idea what that was … and I still wasn’t sure how I felt about God. I felt very betrayed on the deepest of levels. Not even the most intimate of worship music changed that. So I pretty much just didn’t think much about Him any more except for my feeble tries to get Him to communicate with me. Even when I was out in the woods, my favorite church of all, I felt gratitude but not to any one source in particular. Just grateful to be here, breathing, and able to enjoy my horse and trail riding for the first time in a couple of years. But God wasn’t really a part of my though processes any more.

The lights were on, but no one was home. I was in the wasteland alright … and no civilization in sight.

Toward the end of my hospital stay, when I was getting more awake too the whole experience, I was left with serious feelings of abandonment. I mean, here I had been following and serving Him all my life and this is is the result????? After believing His promises for so many years (I honestly believed I was healed of this cancer and would never have to deal with it again), and then I metastacized. How did this happen? If His Word is true, and if He doesn’t lie, and if He truly does love me, how the hell did this happen??? And even worse, if the healing promises are a lie, then what else in that Bible of mine is a lie? I mean, either it is all true, or it ain’t. Many folks like to pick and choose what they believe, and don’t believe in the BIble, but I don’t see it that way. If there are any promises in that book that are not true, then how are any of them true at all? See where I’m going here? If there are Biblical promises that are not true, then how do we know which ones are and which ones aren’t? So then, it was only a skip away to wonder if I’m really saved and going to heaven? See, if one thing isn’t true, is that thing true?? And how do you know? To me, either it all is, or it all isn’t.

I got so angry with God during that time. I railed, I cussed, I shook my fist, I screamed, I cried. I pretty much flung a big, fat temper tantrum. And I haven’t heard not one peep out of Him ever since. Now I know that He has big shoulders. I do not, for one minute, believe that He has turned His back and doesn’t love me any more, but I did pretty much feel like “if this is love, who the hell needs it?” My beloved mother used to say that if this was being the apple of His eye, she didn’t need that shit. Yup, my mom’s words. I was kind of feeling just like that.

This was not the first time I have been end-stage. I had been that way before when I first met Kurt Peterson. I nosed up and got back up to cruising altitude. But this time, I had been in a nosedive with my tail in flames, both engines burnt totally out. I came so close to my own demise that I was hardly aware of anything going on around me, even though I was conscious. My brother had arrived for a visit two days before going into the hospital and I don’t even remember his arrival. I don’t remember him getting out of the car, my hugging him, or even where I was in the house when he arrived. This was totally different.

As I had more and more realization of what had just happened to me, it just did not jive with my understanding of the character of God. There is no way I, as a parent, could stand idly by while my daughter suffered, cried, begged, screamed, mourned … I am aware He has done that before with His own Son … but He is God and I am not. This time, He watched me come really close to leaving this plane. And I thought it was torturous and sadistic. I mean, if it had been merciful, He could have shown me a little piece of what was ahead … one day. Or take me altogether. Shoot, I was right there. Many people have had that experience, and they come back here knowing what glory is there waiting for them, so they no longer fear their passing. I didn’t get tossed that little tidbit. Like how hard could that have been? I was right there … on the brink … how hard would it have been for GOD to either show me what was waiting there one day, or just take me on home so I would never have to experience this terror again?

And I was angry … oh was I ever angry! After all my trusting, believing, standing, praying, etc … this was what I got for my efforts? Screw that! So that’s where I was … pissed at God and He was just letting me be pissed. After all, He knew, before He ever created me, that I would be such a one … so if I didn’t cuss at him, did I really think I could fool myself into believing that He didn’t already know about it? Of course he did … He knows my every thought … created me to think the way I do … so if I can’t talk to Him about it, who can I talk to? So I did … but He didn’t see fit to answer. Thinking as a parent, neither did I when my daughter was flailing in the floor screaming. Then again, she was screaming because she wanted a cookie and I said no. I was screaming because I needed His presence … His reassurance … I mean one of the Biblical names for the Holy Spirit is Comforter … where is my freakin’ comfort???!!!

But in the desert, there is no comfort; there is no shade; there is no nourishment; there is no hydration. Just the stark, blistering sun, big spiders, cool lizards,and chilly nights. And dirt … lots and lots of dirt. But certainly nothing that I find life-giving. And I was suddenly smack in the middle of it.

Fast forward one year … because it was last Apr 11 when I was admitted to that hospital … my hair started falling out late last week … a week after my last chemo. I’m not sure how far it will go as I didn’t let it fall out naturally the first time. I knew that drug would take all my hair, so I took control of the situation and shaved it. The second time, I only expected thinning, which is what I got, but I stopped chemo in July and my hair was at its thinnest in Oct, so I have a delayed reaction of sorts. Given that, I have no idea what to expect … definitely very thin, but possibly all the way bald. It is coming out by the handful and much more painful than it was last time, so I don’t think it’s looking good for the home team. You will be watching it happen in pics.

Here is a shot of me in the ozone sauna that I will be doing later on today.

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This whole metastatic journey has been learning to follow the trail of breadcrumbs as they appear. Knowing which ones to pay attention to and which ones to walk right past. This is not an easy task and we never know if we’re making the right choice or not, until we either get lucky or … don’t.

From the very beginning of my breast cancer journey, I knew God had my back. He and I decided all of my treatment options together and I carried them out. He directed me to places, people, and websites that started to educate me on ways to truly heal rather than manage symptoms by destroying. And He totally renewed my mind in the area of healing. I thought I had this thing licked. Done. Cancer was never going to be part of my life again.

But that was just the opening bell. The school day had just begun. There were many difficult classes to follow. I felt pretty alone at that point, where God was concerned. But that all changed when I was told I had metastasis in 2007. What???? But Your Word says You healed all their sick. You never said maybe. And your Word says You are not man so You cannot lie. This began my feeling of betrayal. Now I am stage IV. Now I am terminally ill. Now I am not healed. But, as I said, the school day was just beginning and that initial diagnosis and treatment was the opening salvo to Melissa’s freakin’ personal WWIII. The biggest lesson I was to learn was following the trail of breadcrumbs.

Part of that breadcrumb trail was dropping the oncologist and mainstream monitoring altogether because I was following a totally spiritual path, at that point, and the mainstream medical world and the world of healing don’t always jive. I was trying to follow a path of faith and every time I got those markers drawn, it kept telling me how I was not healing. I mean, we don’t exactly go to doctors when there’s nothing wrong, do we? So every time i walked in there, i was confirming that i was sick. At that time, I was working with that Karen Korona, who kept on insisting I was healing beautifully while my body was showing me just how sick I was. I chose to ignore it and listen to her … and what she was saying lined up with God’s promises, so I was doing my level best to focus on Him and His Word while attempting to ignore my ever-failing body.

It was at this point that I was tossed into the hospital nearly dead. This was what I get for standing on His promises????? His promises, thru Christ, are always yes and amen. Always. WTH? And it wasn’t as though that whole hospital experience was smooth and full of His grace. It was a bloody nightmare … NG tube twice, losing pathology fluid, discovering cancer inoperable, and discussions of hospice. I was so close to death, and so traumatized, that now I am literally left with a bit of PTSD from that close call. I have had some serious panic attacks when things start looking all too horribly familiar like a year ago. Thankfully, there’s a strain for that! Cannabis beats anti-anxiety meds hands-down!

Little did I know what a parched and dry land into which I was headed …