I drive by the hospital often that I had my surgery. Each time I can't help but think of that year. 2001. The year that I had so many issues with my Crohn's. The year that we had to make such tough decisions regarding my disease. The year that people spoke truth. Prayed over me. Pushed me one way or the other. My mom, my mother-in-law, and my granny came to help. To be with me. Friends laughed with me (more like at me) while I was in the hospital. But also prayed fervently for my healing, my recovery. I can laugh at the silly things I did during the week of anesthesia. I remember the day my Dr. released me...seven days later on my birthday. I remember Michael and I driving to Texas two days after I came home (much to the dismay of my doctors). I remember being able to finally eat and not be miserable. Or afraid to eat... That Christmas dinner of 2001 will be one I never forget.
And in the past fourteen years I've recovered well. I've moved to Michigan and back to Colorado. I've had four precious babies. I've run four half marathons. I've lived life and loved life.
I have also endured so much stress. And apparently stress triggers flare ups of Crohn's Disease. But guess what? No flare ups for me. No pain. No debilitating fatigue. No embarrassing bathroom incidents. No medication. No significant weight loss that leaves me weak and frail and skeletal. Did I mention no pain?!
And that is how I know the Lord has healed me. Praise God. Thank you Jesus for protecting my health and leading my recovery. So very grateful.