Going through this reflective and thanksgiving process has been a wonderful journey for my soul. During the course of the past several days of posting my mind has been flooded with memories, thoughts, visions, pictures, stories, mercy, grace and love. It has been amazing.

July 7, 2006, was just another day in the rhythm of the doctors trying to figure out what was wrong with me. The most important thing that happened is what is pictured below - the pick-line.

At one point, in the hospital, I was hooked up to four IV’s. It was at this point they realized I was eventually going to run out of veins. They were also getting tired of all the tubes attached to my body as it was making my life miserable - well - it helped add to the misery of the hospital and dying. I was unable to sleep and could barely move.

They knew whatever it was I was dealing with was a long term problem. Thus, they decided the best course of action was to give me what you see above. If you don’t know what this is, it is a catheter inserted into a blood vessel leading directly to my heart - so they could pump the medicine through me faster.

It was at this point the tide began to change. Dr. Henson practiced medicine on me. At one point, he had me on four different antibiotics hoping one of them would work. One of them did, but they had to figure out which one…

Thankfully, they guessed right. It turned out to be a brand new, not quite yet to be officialized drug. 

July 7, the day I became part bionic man, was just a day of waiting and anticipation expecting God to move. During my four days in the hospital, I knew God was going to move. I knew He was going to save me.

Even in my lowest of the lows, in the moments where I could easily identify with Job, I never once doubted God. Did I question? Of course I did. Did I lament? You bet I did. Did I doubt? Did I doubt God had a plan? Did I think I was going to die? Not once. Did I beg for God to just let me die? Several times in fact.

Yet, even when there was no light at the end of the tunnel; even when I was more confused then I could imagine; even when I had no words; even when the pain was too great and I thought I couldn’t make it - I knew God was there - in my midst - wanting to heal, wanting to save, wanting to make His name famous.

All I could do was trust…

Today, five years later, I have scar on my left arm from where the pick-line was inserted into my body. Every day I wake up and see that tiny, circular scar on my arm, and it reminds me my God is present. He is moving. He is persuing.

All I have to do is trust.

Isn’t that reassuring?