Are you still with me?  Those of you who have read the Adventures of ozEkoala will be partially desensitised to my ways, and may hardly have noticed all the detours and false starts, but for new readers, it might have come as a bit of a rude shock. 

Perhaps an explanation is in order.  I have what is commonly known as Chronic Fatigue Syndrome, and my worst symptom, apart from crippling fatigue, is brain fog.  This causes me to feel like my head is tightly packed with cotton wadding and I am rendered incapable of clear, methodical thought processing.  Consequently, when I sit down to type I really have no idea what I am going to say.  Planning is impossible and spontaneity is the result.  That's a kind way of saying it can become a bit chaotic trying to follow my train of thought...but we do usually get somewhere in the end.

Now, where was I?  Or where weren't we, when we should have been?   Anyway, whatever...  let's try again…

Once upon a time there was a little girl named Beverley, and she was heading off for her first day of school.  She was pretty excited, but also a bit scared.  Her older brother and sister were still attending the same primary school as she was starting, so they headed off together across the road, where the school was situated.  In the two minutes it took to walk there, her siblings had managed to shake her off.  So there she was, all alone, facing the prospect of her very first day as a big school girl. 

Up until that time she had attended the pre-school kindergarten at which her mother was the Director.  She was admired for her maturity and the way she didn't play on the fact that her mother was the Boss.   Today was different.   Even though she hadn't needed Mum at kindy, she wouldn't even be there if she did need her now.  She felt very small and very alone.  She felt like crying.   But you know what?  She didn't cry.  If she had it would have been quite understandable, don't you think?  She was only five years old.  

Somewhere within her she decided it was pointless to cry, even before the tears began to roll down her cheeks.  Somewhere in her little five-year old brain a lie took root, but she didn't know it was a lie... it sounded true to her.  The lie was that no-one was there to help her, so she would just have to be strong and rely on her own resources to 'survive' in this life. 

Does that sound a bit complex for a five-year old to you?  Well, when God reminded me of this incident twenty-five years later,  I actually felt like I was there again. I felt like a five year old, I cried like a five year old... perhaps for a moment I connected with the part of me that was there that day. And I realised that throughout my life I had held onto that lie as a lifeline... all the time thinking it was true.  But all the time it was a lie.  And do you know why?  Because Jesus was there to help me, I just didn't know it yet.

I started out by telling you that my 'story' began in 1984, and the next thing you know we are in 1965 watching me start school. (And jumping forward to 1990!)  But remember, I did say that the events of that day in '84 were inextricably linked with the preceding 24 years, so there will be a lot of this sort of Twilight Zone stuff - be warned. 

A lot of what happened that day in 1984 can only be properly understood in the context of the following years as well, because God didn't just speak and vanish into thin air - He stayed with me and continues to lead and guide me through my days.   This sometimes involves giving me new insights into what He has already done in my life which brings loose threads together in a fascinating way.

An example of this happened very recently.  I was praying with my husband, and sheepishly asked God if He would like to tell me when I would get better from my illness.  In the past year He had kindly given me several dates and each one had come to pass with dramatic improvements, but here I was still sick. Somehow I felt I was on my own now - it was just a matter of patient endurance.  I'm not sure why I felt that way, but I was wrong anyway.

As soon as I asked, the word ‘Easter’ came flashing into my mind with unusual clarity. (Remember the brain fog.)  Impulsively, I told my husband, "God said I'm getting better at Easter!", then immediately regretted it.   "Me and my big mouth", I thought. "Why can't I learn to keep it shut?"  There was no reason to be sorry though.  A few minutes later, again with remarkable clarity, the words 'ten weeks' came into my mind, and again I blurted out the latest update. My husband is a very patient man and for some reason he hasn't yet tired of me and my 'revelations', so he got up to get a calendar.  As he was about to leave the room, the words 'and ten days' came to mind.  This I kept to myself.   By this time I was feeling less impulsive and wanted to pray some more and ask God if I was hearing voices or something!

Grant came back into the room with the calendar in hand, and we counted up the weeks until Easter... nine, ten, eleven... There it was - the day was Friday, so it was eleven weeks to Good Friday. It was at this juncture that I admitted to my latest 'revelation'.  I think God said, "Ten weeks and ten days."  Strange - what would that make it?  Easter Monday!  Well, well, well.  From that moment on I had a settled feeling of certainty that God really had spoken again, and that a day had been set in heaven for my healing.

We finished praying and I went to my room for an afternoon sleep. Later that day, while I was minding my own business, the words came into my mind with that now familiar clarity, 'ten years and ten days'.  What!?   What could that mean?   What happened ten years ago?  It didn't enter my mind to think ten years ahead, as with the ten weeks; intuitively I knew that God wanted me to think back ten years, so I dutifully put on my thinking cap, and all I came up with was that my youngest child had been conceived at Easter, nine years ago.  Ten years would take me into a hazy area where nothing stood out as significant... until I remembered something quite amazing that happened at that time.

I have a friend - a prayer partner - who has prayed with me through some, shall we say, difficult years.   Ten years ago, I visited her one day to be greeted with the news that she had seen a 'vision' which had made her a bit nervous.   She had seen a sperm and egg meeting, then a calendar with a certain date on it, and the appearance of the vision was dark and ominous looking.  We pondered what this could mean, but didn't come up with anything conclusive.  We had quite a while to wait before any more came of this, and even when the promised event came to pass I didn't recognise it.

This is where it becomes quite tricky to relate the details of this part of my story without becoming embarrassing.  The vision my friend had came to pass in my life down to the last detail.  It was entirely unexpected but amazingly significant.  There is much, much more to this story than can be neatly fitted in here, but, for the purposes of this particular incident, (remember, we're talking about 'ten years and ten days' here) let it suffice to say that the ten years must be referring to that vision, which was a prophetic vision of one year ahead, when my youngest daughter was conceived on Good Friday, 1991 (which just happened to be a particularly dark and stormy day.) 

In my musing on the past, a searching question presented itself to me.   "That's all very well for ten years, but what about 'and ten days'?    How could I possibly work out what date Easter was ten years ago?" At this point my jaw dropped open and I stared for a moment in disbelief.  Incredible!

Just that morning, while dusting my dressing table in a burst of uncharacteristic and short-lived cleaning-frenzy, I had found a small piece of cardboard with the dates for Easter written on it.  I had copied it out years before from an article in a newspaper, just in case I ever needed it.  (I kept it all that time without once referring to it, I might add.) I realised the final year on the list was 2000.  How far in the future that year had seemed when I first copied out the dates!   Year 2000 had seemed positively futuristic!  I threw it into the nearby bin quite unceremoniously, and went about my task without a second thought.  Now it was a different matter!   I rushed to the bin and drew it out.  There they were - the dates of Easter from the year 1990 to the year 2000!

By this stage I was getting rather interested in where this was all heading.  The date on the piece of cardboard for Easter Sunday was April 15... making ten years and ten days from April 25... the day after the 'ten weeks and ten days' date of Easter Monday, April 24. 

My mind was spinning a bit.  What did it mean?  Why was this happening? What were all these dates about anyway?  Gradually I calmed down and decided to just take it at face value. It seemed that God was encouraging me to be confident that Easter 2000 really was to be a significant event for me, and that He had been working on something for quite a few years.  This fitted in with a lot of other things He had been showing me, so I relaxed and enjoyed the experience.  Why spoil it with questions?

Looking at the incident now, I have made a couple of extra observations about those dates. One is that in 1990, Good Friday must have been Friday the 13th - a classic bad luck day for the superstitious. But we're not talking superstition here - we're talking reality. And Good Friday commemorates the day Jesus died on the cross. The sky was dark for several hours that day and all looked very ominous, but God had plans that we knew nothing about until He came to give us revelation of what Jesus was achieving in the spiritual realm by this great act of sacrificial love.

That reminds me of the way He has worked in my life. Back then, life was very difficult. A new baby seemed the last thing in the world that I could cope with, and yet He intervened in my dark and stormy circumstances and spoke about a child to come (who would be born somewhere around Christmas Day, too, surprise surprise!) To my way of looking at it, life seemed to have gone from horrendously difficult, to downright impossible in a moment, when I realised I was going to have a baby.
 

This separate story demands to be told. Bianca-Rose would be very upset if I just left you with that last comment!   Keep reading for a short account of how God changed my point of view in 10 seconds flat.

Me: "Lord, I need something to do... I'm desperate. People have been telling me I should get a job, get out of the house... They just don't understand. I can barely cope now. But I do need something.  Should I apply for this job?"

God:  "I have a job for you.  Psalm 113:9"

Me: Quickly opening the Bible to Psalm 113... Verse 9: ‘He settles the barren woman in her home as the happy mother of children.’ "What are you saying?  No, Lord!   I can't have a baby - it'll kill me!"

God:  "Don't worry.   This is My doing."

Me: "That makes me feel better..   I suppose I'd better go to the doctor and confirm this."

That is, word for word, as well as I can remember (and the memory is particularly vivid), a conversation I had with God in May, 1991.  For the sake of brevity I won't fill in the background - we'll just take it from there.  I went to the doctor and sure enough, I was pregnant.  The baby was due around Christmas.   How symbolic.  A baby from God.

I wasn't going to tell you this next bit but just changed my mind…

I met a lady some months later and she had a cot and chest of drawers she didn't need - would I like them - yes, thankyou very much - ok, my husband will drop them off this evening.  'This evening' comes and who should deliver the promised items but two men named Michael and Gabriel! It's true!

Wouldn't it be nice if everything God had His hand in went along smoothly and we were just along for the ride, smiling and laughing all the way.... Dream on. Within a month of the 'revelation' about my pregnancy, I discovered I had nephritis, a kidney disease.  I became very ill and wondered if I hadn't been right after all when I said to God, "This will kill me!" 

A specialist was called in and he made murmuring noises about not ordering an abortion just yet... !!!!  I saw red as surely as if I had been a bull facing the matador. My immediate reaction was to yell out (inside the privacy of my own mind of course), "Not ever!  Lord, don't let him even think about it!"   - or something like that.  I needn't have bothered. God had plans I knew nothing about - as usual.

Shortly after that incident I was summoned to an overnight stay in hospital. I didn't fight it, but inside I had the strange sense that it was going to be a waste of time.  The sense I had grew stronger to the point where I decided to ask God why I felt this way. My doctor had decided to perform a kidney biopsy, but God told me clearly that I wasn't going to have it. I was glad, but quite mystified as to what was happening.  I had quite a pleasant overnight stay, meeting some nice doctors and nurses. 

The next day, while I was waiting to see what would happen, God led me through a Bible study!  It was too long ago to recall everything now, but I do remember some interesting passages relating to the crucifixion of Christ which used the word 'pierced' and they seemed to apply to my situation remarkably well.  I don't want to appear to trivialise the incredible significance of Christ's death on our behalf with this story, but there is no doubt in my mind that God was using my current situation, and taking the opportunity to impress on me that because Christ was 'pierced' for me, I did not have to endure it myself.  Of course, if I had gone on to have the biopsy you would be justified in thinking I am a raving lunatic... but hear me out.  This is what happened next...

A lot of the verses I felt God was showing me seemed to indicate that the kidney biopsy I was scheduled to have was part of a plan against me and the baby I was carrying.  There were several references to being shot at with arrows (the piercing analogy again).  I have to tell it like it was - I'm sorry if it sounds far-fetched.   From my understanding of spiritual matters, I assumed my 'enemy' was the devil, and he was somehow displeased at the prospect of God intervening in my life in the way He was.

The time scheduled for my operation came and went, and no-one appeared. I wasn't surprised at this, but neither was I feeling too sure about what was happening.   How could I feel so convinced that I wasn't going to have this biopsy, and yet be sitting up in my hospital bed awaiting the arrival of my doctor as if I was about to have it?

God taught me a vital lesson during this time of waiting. Doubts began to assail me, much like the proverbial arrows.  I cried out to God. I didn't know what was happening and I didn't like it.  And yet I still felt that unshakeable conviction deep inside, that I wasn't going to have the biopsy.  

How could this be?  Didn't my doubts negate the conviction?   How could I have doubts and still be certain?  It didn't make sense.   That's when God showed me that the doubts were external - they were the well-known flaming arrows of Ephesians 6:16 in my beloved Bible! 

Next, a doctor I hadn't met before appeared at my door.  He introduced himself as Doctor Matthew.  My brain working as it does, I made a mental note that his name, in the Baby Name books, meant Gift from God.   He was well named. 

He asked me a few questions, then informed me that it wouldn't be long now. You would think I would now come to my senses and give up all this stuff about being attacked by spiritual enemies and God coming to my rescue, wouldn't you? No, sorry.   You see I just knew I wasn't going to have that thing! 

The moment you've all been waiting for... My doctor enters the room, and after a brief explanation, informs me that I can now get dressed and go home - they won't be performing a biopsy after all.  Thankyou, doctor. Goodbye.

Now back to the year 2000...

Hey hang on! You can't do that! What about the explanation. Oh! You want to hear how it happened, do you?  OK - just kidding ya!

My doctor had been having a meeting with his superiors, trying to push his case for me having a biopsy, but they weren't having it. They decided to overrule on the grounds that the risk to the baby wasn't worth it.   End of story.

It's not the end of my story. I went on to have the baby, but not without some difficulty.  I had very little energy for most of the pregnancy, until God intervened and partially healed me.  Why partially? I don't know. If you ever work it out, let me know, will you?

I was not quite bed-ridden, but may as well have been for all I achieved in a day. I couldn't wash my own hair because my arms were too tired - that sort of thing. One day I agreed to attend the farewell get-together for a friend who was moving interstate.  Another friend picked me up, and when we arrived there was a unanimous cry of, "Oh, Bev - you look awful!"  Nice friends!   They were right of course. I felt awful, too.  They insisted on praying for me, and after a few weak protests, I succumbed. 

One of my friends, a quiet, gentle lady, asked me later if I had felt anything unusual when they had prayed. I said I hadn't, and she told me she had 'seen' energy from God pouring into me.  I liked the sound of that very much, but had no evidence of it.

The next day I had the strange urge to go for a swim.  I love swimming and had done a lot of it during my previous pregnancy, six years earlier. This pregnancy I hadn't managed to swim even one lap. I struggled into my bathers and was driven to the pool. Once there I slipped into the water and felt the old desire to swim come back as I felt the water supporting my weight. At first I swam breast stroke slowly and carefully, but gradually I built up speed and changed over to freestyle.  That's when I felt the energy from God pour into me! It was great!  And from then on I was hardly tired at all, right through to the birth of the baby.

There are many more stories I could relate connected with the subject of my pregnancy, healing and Bianca-Rose (the baby). But I'm conscious of the fact that this was an 'aside' - so if you'll excuse me I just want to get back to the year 2000 again and make sure I haven't left some other story hanging.  We can come back to this another time, if it ever seems relevant. Now.. think... Ouch. That hurts!

I was telling you about what God was saying to me about Easter 2000, wasn't I?  And that led to the mention of Friday the 13th, 1990... which led to telling you about Bianca-Rose's conception... Ok, I think I have it now.

I was relating the experience I had of God reassuring me that He has plans - plans for my healing, plans for a future for me free of debilitation. He gave me some unusual 'hints' using the number ten several times, remember?  Ten weeks and ten days.  Ten years and ten days.   This led me to explore the reference to ten years and ten days, which was pointing back to a time when He had intervened before, and made His love known to me through His miraculous intervention.

But, but , but... I was meant to be helping you understand 'that day' in 1984!  I wanted to give you some insight into why the event was so life-changing.   The First Day of School story wasn't too bad a start, I didn't think, but, as you probably noticed, it didn't take me long to leap forward in time.  I'll try and pick up that thread again...

I was a Sunday School girl. I should have known that Jesus was with me. But I didn't. And it would be another twenty years before this knowledge would be revealed to me in a blinding flash of insight, and revolutionise my view of life.  Then it would be many more years of gaining experiential knowledge of God and His ways before I could truthfully say, "I know Jesus is with me, and I no longer believe I have to rely on my own strength to survive."

Do you notice a theme in what at first glance seems to be a random selection of anecdotes drawn from my life story. No, me neither. How can we draw some spiritual nourishment from this?  I made some fairly strong statements on the opening page of this narrative about my belief that anything written about Jesus should be "alive... full of reality, truth, relevance and above all, love."  How am I doing so far?   I didn't promise it would be succinct, methodical and deeply edifying.  I suppose I hoped it might be, but at the moment such a goal is too lofty for me.   Let's move on, now.

I'm still attempting to put the events of August 1984 into some sort of context, so that when I say something like, "When the Holy Spirit spoke to me, the effect was that my spirit came alive at His words. In the imagery of the song, I saw the light and woke up spiritually. Suddenly I was no longer oblivious to the reality of God. I knew the truth and that truth set me free", you have some idea of what I mean by that.

The next story I want to tell might help quite a lot I think.

Mum: "It's time to get ready for church."

Me: "I don't want to go to church anymore. It's boring."

Beginning of the downward slide.

Doctor: "Is there any chance you could be pregnant?"

Me: "No."  Liar.

I was pregnant.  Six months pregnant in fact. And still in deep denial. But all that was about to change. The terrible truth was about to hit not only me, but my whole family.

It's a sad thing when a young girl thinks she needs sexual love to fill a void inside her heart that can really only be touched by God's love. I'd believed another lie, it seems.  The truth was that Jesus could meet that need for love that is so fundamental to the human condition.  I didn't know that.  I was searching for love in all the wrong places. And it didn't stop there. The next ten years saw me go from one empty relationship to another in a soul destroying attempt to find that illusive goal... true love.

Getting pregnant didn't serve to enhance my sense of being loved at all. Quite the opposite.  There was an attempt made to remove me from the public eye, and I was sent to live in a Salvation Army home for unmarried mothers.  I was soon transferred to my sister's home because I hated it so much, but there I sank into an undiagnosed depression, sleeping in every day until 1 o'clock in the afternoon.

Eventually I had to return to the Salvation Army hospital which housed the unmarried mothers, to await the arrival of the baby - a lonely and miserable month, as I remember.  Not half as lonely and miserable as the six hour labour, though!  A poor excuse for a nurse was left in charge of me while I agonised alone, after having my waters broken artificially to make sure I had the baby before the doctor went away for a holiday.  The nurse was busy doing some bookwork and found my groans annoying it seems, so she told me to stop being such a sook. I didn't tell her I was afraid, in pain, lonely... I just tried to stay quiet. 

I didn't tell God I was afraid, in pain and lonely either, but He knew.   He sent a nurse into my room who was just going off duty, and because she'd never been present at a birth before, she asked to be allowed to stay.  She sat at my side and silently held my hand.  I had never felt so comforted in my life. That was God at work.

Doctor: "How can I help you?"

Me: "...." Beginning to cry....trying to speak.

Doctor: "Take your time."

Me: More crying...

I did finally manage to say something to that poor, unsuspecting doctor.  It all came out eventually. The details of the teenage pregnancy, the adoption, how it wasn't talked about, the anniversary depression.   He seemed strangely moved by my story.  It triggered from him a twenty minute monologue on the tragedy of teenage pregnancy and the damage it does psychologically not to grieve the loss of a child through adoption.  He didn't tell me anything I didn't know already, but I came away feeling cared for.  He had listened.  He had empathised. I felt comforted.  God was at work again. But I still didn't know it.

The only thing I do know is that I didn’t believe in God. I was very interested in things 'spiritual' however. I was reading books like, 'Out on a Limb' by Shirley MacLaine, and had relegated Jesus to the 'maybe he never even existed' category.  I was drawn to books on astrology, reincarnation, astral travel, tarot cards, crystals.  It was all pretty empty but I kept searching.  I wanted to know what life was really all about.  I couldn't swallow the western line of thought that seemed to say that everything there was to know was to be found on the physical plane.  There was something more, and I knew it.   But what was it?

Having rejected Christianity at the wise old age of 12, I didn't think there was any point covering old ground, so I was looking in new directions. I began to haunt the Theosophy Bookshop, until the day I bought a book, supposedly written by a medium doing automatic writing. It was such a load of meaningless drivel that I couldn't bear to read more than half the book.

I had always drawn the line in my spiritual experimentation when it came to seances. These I considered dangerous. I couldn't have given you a reasonable explanation at the time, as to why I considered these any more dangerous than other forms of occult activity, other than to say that evil spirits were real and seances opened the door to them.  I have no idea how I knew this. Then it happened. God spoke to me for the first time. We are in 1983 now. 1984 is still a year away.

That was all. Nothing else. But it was enough. I was thoroughly converted and became an instant evangelist.  Only one problem.  Knowing God exists is not the same as knowing God. But it was a start.

We're getting somewhere now. Can you sense it? An unseen hand is guiding me slowly but surely toward the truth. God is closing in.

I had a mental image of what it was like during that process once.   I was like a little fish on a line - hooked by the devil and his fiendish lies about truth and reality.  He was reeling me in slowly but surely, as I persisted in my interest in the occult.  Then, just before he grabbed me, God stepped in, took hold of me and said, "NO! That one's mine!" and lovingly placed me in His garden fishpond! How do you like that analogy?   I love it.

Would you like to hear a bit more about how God got a hold of me?   It's probably worth a deeper look, I reckon.   I had been convinced of His existence, as I said, and that was a good start.   But it wasn't enough.   I was giving Him credit for all the amazing things I saw in His creation, but at the same time I was mistakenly giving Him credit for some of the 'works of the enemy' that held my fascination for a time. 

For instance I thought it was great the way we could find out what influences were strongest in the stars, to help us make better decisions.  I even resorted to swinging a crystal to help me make a decision once, vainly hoping it was a way to get in touch with my subconscious, if nothing else.  The tarot cards were mystifying, but with God anything was possible, I thought, so there must be some reason why they could predict the future.

Enter a Christian.  She plied me with a Bible and books on the evils of astrology.  She dragged me along to church.  That part turned out not to be so bad.  I met another Christian.  She took me to a Bible study. I began to go to Mum's church again when I visited the old home town.  It was still a bit boring, but something was getting to me.  What was it?

All the time I was opening my mind up to the idea that maybe I was too young at 12 to make a permanent decision about the validity of Christianity. Spiritual blindness is a powerful thing and if you're in it's grip yourself, as you read this, I implore you to at least acknowledge it. Don't pretend that you have made a thorough search for the truth and decided the God of the Bible is false. If you are like me, or like I was, you have been indifferent toward God.  Or worse. 

See if you can relate to this story...

I was in the habit of going shopping in my lunch hour and scouring the bookshops for bargains. One day I descended some stairs to investigate a shop I hadn't noticed before, and inadvertently entered a Christian bookshop. Too late I realised my mistake and there I was, surrounded by Bibles and Christian paraphernalia! I made a hasty retreat, and went back to work feeling 'defiled'.  What a strange reaction. Such is the reality of the spiritual realm that, because I had not yet joined God's side by accepting His remedy for my spiritual condition, I was still an enemy of the truth.

So, are you being blinded to the truth, do you think?  If you suspect you might be, ask God to help you. Talk to Him, even if you still feel unsure whether He even exists!  Remember me in the hospital. Some doubts are from without and you need God's help to overcome them.  He can give you faith as a gift. He will if you ask Him.

I've kept my word so far and haven't given you a long, boring list of my favourite verses from the Bible. Don't think for a minute that I think the Bible is boring! The Bible has been far more to me than an interesting read, or a guidebook to moral law, or as some call it, a love letter from God.  It has been all these things, but what I love most about it is the way the Author speaks to me through it.  It has been the voice of God to me, not just a written account of His activities.

Without the Holy Spirit, the Bible can be confusing and even, at worst, misleading.  I can hear certain people gasping at that, but I believe it is true.  Without the Holy Spirit, the Bible scares me, to be honest.  (Maybe you've noticed how much trouble has been caused through the ages when people use the Bible as their excuse for all sorts of shocking behaviour.)  The Bible requires correct handling and I have too much respect for the truth it contains to quote it lightly.   Wrongly handled it can lead to spiritual death rather than the Life for which it is intended. That's the last thing I want to be a part of, so I use my quotations sparingly.

Sometimes a particular verse from the Bible is just so appropriate that I will put it in though.

"The god of this world has blinded the mind of unbelievers, so that they cannot see the light of the glorious gospel of Christ, who is the image of God. For we do not preach ourselves, but Jesus Christ as Lord...  For God, who said "Let light shine out of darkness," made His light shine in our hearts to give us the light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Christ."   2 Corinthians 4:4-6

That was me! Blinded. I was interested in God. I thought He was fantastic!  But I just couldn't see the truth about Jesus when it was dangling in front of my face.  So, do you want to know what changed things for me?  Read on, and I don't think you'll be disappointed.

Matthea: "Bev, have you got that book I lent you?   I need it back."

Me: Panic "I'll look for it!"  (Where is that book!?)

I hadn't read it, just like I hadn't read the Bible she gave me. I'd looked at the one about the dangers of astrology and it didn't make much sense to me, so I stopped there. With much searching I found the book she wanted, one put together by her pastor in the form of a series of notes presenting the main themes of the Bible. You know what it's like. It was there.. so I read it.

I was enthralled. I think I read it twice straight through. There I was sitting quietly in my lounge room, minding my own business, reading the most important information ever to cross my path, when God spoke!

Me: Startled  "Yes."    (Until He asked, I hadn't realised it... but I did believe it.)

GOD: "Well what are you doing about it?"

Before He spoke, I was unchanged by what I'd read. Somehow it seemed important but I didn't quite know what to do with it. Once God spoke those few simple words to me, everything changed!  One moment I was blind - I didn't get it (although I sensed there was something to get).  The next moment, revelation! Jesus is real!    He's alive! He is God! This changes everything!   Suddenly I saw it.

Now, if you haven't seen it, this will be singularly unhelpful to you.   I realise this with sadness.  But this is my story and I have to tell it the way it happened, hoping and praying that God will use something in what I say to help you see what I saw that day.

Logical minds among us will be unmoved by this. Where are the facts, give me evidence. I want proof.  You know what?  When God gives you faith, it is proof - it is evidence - it is solid fact.  The very process of being changed like that is totally real.  Do you want that?  To really know something is true for a change - not just wonder, hope, doubt.  It really is possible.  And it changes everything.

So far I've introduced God to you predominantly as the God of Truth.   That's how he first introduced himself to me. Through the years he has taken circumstances and used them as tools to teach me other important aspects of His nature and Person.

No matter what you might have picked up along the way as far as ideas about the possible nature of God, if He exists at all, toss it out if it even hints that God is not a Person. He is, and that's why you are able to love Him, speak to Him, listen to Him and learn from Him how to live.  You are a person, and He made you to be like Him.

Some aspects of God's nature stand out as having been especially important to me. One of these is Hope. It's not surprising I suppose, considering the verse that is so well known:

"And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love." 1 Corinthians 13:13

Hope is like a thread of brilliant hue which weaves it's way in an exquisite fashion throughout the fabric of my adult life. Faith has been essential - I wouldn't have been able to move a step without it, but the lessons of faith have been subtly interwoven throughout the fabric of my life so as to be less easily pointed out.   God's love is the framework on which the whole is weaved.

Let's look more closely at this thread of Hope.

Telling this part is tricky. It involves someone else and to tell the story without mentioning him would render the story meaningless. But, to speak freely about that person seems callous because it is the tragic story of a relationship that is impossible to completely reconcile.

What to do?  I'll try telling it just as it comes at first and see how I go.

I was married for twelve years to someone other than Grant, and it was one of life's true tragedies.  I still have a deep sense of grief over, not only the death of that marriage, but also the very fact of it. Don't worry, I'm not going to bleed all over the page at you!  God has done major heart surgery and I have a clean bill of health - but life has some horrible realities, and one of those is divorce. 

I married a Christian, as a Christian, so strictly speaking divorce didn't exist for me.  This seemed to be what the Bible stated categorically was God's view of the situation. It was what I was taught, and it was what I believed. You won't be able to make a valid judgement for yourself on this, because I am unable to explain in detail the facts of the situation.  I put this in only to help you grasp the seeming hopelessness of my situation, so as to appreciate the miracle of hope God granted me.

For the first six months of marriage, peace reigned. During this time as a new Christian I was a very keen student of the Bible, for which I am especially thankful because I believe that the foundation which was laid at that time helped keep me from losing my sanity.

Suddenly, overnight, a serious and debilitating mental illness manifested itself in my husband's mind.  It struck at the very core of our marriage due to it's specific nature (which I am not free to discuss here).  We were reeling under the weight of it and cried out to God for help.  Immediately we saw the hand of God come to our aid in the form of a remarkable 'coincidence'.  Our pastor happened to read an article about a certain serious and debilitating mental illness the same day that we had an appointment with him to discuss our dilemma.  You guessed it - he was able to diagnose the problem instantly and recommend psychiatric help. 

I won't discuss my feelings about psychiatric 'help' here - it wouldn't be pleasant or helpful, I'm sure.  I thank God for helping us get our bearings, but beyond that my memories of that time are dismal. It is much more edifying and encouraging to consider what God was doing than to get bogged down in recriminations and blaming.    Let me continue to set the scene for you so you can fully appreciate the amazing things God has done.

When life becomes so difficult that a person doesn't know how they will get through the next hour, and this happens regularly, day after day, you would think that the person in question would make some changes.  Wouldn't you? Well as someone who has lived in that situation and come out the other end alive (just), I'm here to tell you not to be hasty in your judgement if you know someone living that way right now.

Have you heard the story of the frog dropped into boiling water?   He hopped straight out and saved himself.  But his hapless brother was sitting in the saucepan of water as it was heated and didn't notice the subtle changes in temperature - and eventually it was too late. 

Looking back, I am tempted to think that I should have hopped out the day trouble struck, but that's not the part of the analogy I want to focus on.  When a person is in an emotionally draining situation for a long time, they may not notice how dangerous their situation has become.  By the time their suspicions are aroused it is too late - they have become trapped.  They are no longer capable of saving themselves.  This is very real.

A person in this situation can very easily succumb to hopelessness.   Life becomes very bleak and there seems to be no possibility of change.  It took me a long time to lose hope.  I always believed that God had a plan, and all I had to do was keep persevering and all would be well in the end.  In a way this wasn't such a bad strategy considering my inability to muster enough energy to do anything else, but remember that lie I told you about earlier? To quote:

"The lie was that no-one was there to help her, so she would just have to be strong and rely on her own resources to 'survive' in this life."

Knowing Jesus was there to help me made a huge difference. I still needed to be taught a new way to live, though, and this took time.  A long time.   In the meantime I was inadvertently using precious resources trying to 'do the right thing' that would have been better spent on something else.  Just what that something else was I don't really know, even now!  Life was such a tangle.

Enough of the scene setting - now we'll get into the good stuff!

How God keeps a person going in difficult circumstances is an intensely personal thing.  There are the moment by moment whisperings of the Spirit to the soul that no-one else can ever know. In my life there have been other, more outward experiences that have served to help keep me alive. They're the sort of experiences that I can write about because they are like living allegories or parables.  Jesus, during his time on earth as a man, loved to use the medium of the parable to illustrate spiritual principles.   He seems to like doing it in my life as well, and I love it.

Sometimes I feel almost as if my whole life is one big object lesson in spiritual matters, but this isn't the place to try and elaborate on that.  I will just use some of the best examples I can think of to illustrate my point. Before I do, there's something I need to clarify. 

During the twelve years of my first marriage, I received many encouragements from God which served to build hope within me.  At the time, God was focussing my attention on the hope I have in Him - hope in a spiritual sense.  But in another sense he was indicating to me continually that He had plans to transform my circumstances in this life in a very practical way.  From my limited perspective I always assumed this meant the healing of my husband, the restoration of our marriage and a happy, fulfilling life together.  The undeniable fact is that this did not happen, and can never happen because we are now divorced and I have remarried. 

Some people will interpret this as evidence that I missed out on what God promised me due to some form of disobedience or lack of faith.  Such people abound in Christian circles - and I can sympathise with their attitude because I could have been among their number if God hadn't been so determined to show me a better way. In the light of that, read on. 

That is the heading in my Bible above Luke Chapter 8:40.  If you know any Bible stories at all you've probably heard these two.  They're often connected because Jesus performed one miracle on the way to performing another.

One day it came to mind that the girl who Jesus raised to life was twelve years old, and the woman he healed had been sick for twelve years.  I didn't even know if this was the case - it just came to mind that it was so. I looked it up and sure enough, I was correct.  It occurred to me that this had some significance for me, and it didn't take long for the thoughts to crystallise.

I was twelve when I rejected the church and effectively turned my back on God.  This was similar to the girl dying. It was at age 24 that I accepted God's invitation to receive the Life He offered me in Jesus. This was like being brought back to life, and it was a spiritual healing after twelve years of spiritual sickness, something like the woman in the story. There seemed to be more to it than that, and I wasn't too sure of myself at the time, but I felt like God was saying that He had another very significant event planned for me at age 36. 

It was only after events unfolded that I could look back in wonder and marvel at His foreknowledge and perfect planning. After 12 years of trauma, a time of emotional 'bleeding' akin to the woman's physical bleeding in the story, God intervened decisively in my circumstances and brought Grant into my life. I was 36 years old.    More of that story later.

God underlined those words and highlighted them in big, bold letters for me, just like I did for you.  I had never noticed them before. In my surprise, I took them, and showed Him, and said, "Lord, did you put those there?   I accept." Once the truth sank in, I was in awe of God in a fresh way. He was even better than I thought. I knew He was perfect, so that didn't make sense, but my appreciation of Him had matured. Here was a God who understood. He wasn't afar off handing out impossible rules and regulations. He was close, and involved, and wonderfully practical.  Why hadn't I seen it before?  God's timing is a sometimes a total mystery, but one thing I do know about it: just like God Himself, His timing is perfect.

On the last page, I started telling you about PTSD, then seemed to side-track to a discussion of divorce.  This is just as much of an adventure for me as it is supposed to be for you, faithful reader. Where will I head next? I haven't finished either topic, so I will stick with the divorce issue, trusting it will lead us back via some interesting terrain, to the PTSD.

At this point I have to go back and read what I just wrote because I can't remember! Excuse me for a moment... OK. I'm back. I knew there was method in my madness. The divorce topic definitely leads us back to PTSD. I knew it would. Didn't doubt it for a moment! 

I said before, I don't like quoting verses from the Bible too often.   It's too easy to try and use it to serve your own interests. The first verse from the Bible I ever memorised says: (from memory) ?Timothy 3:17 "All Scripture is God-breathed and is useful for teaching, rebuking, ? and training in righteousness..." 

How did I do? Flip, flip (turning pages of Bible) Ah… ‘correcting’... Try again. 

2 Timothy 3:16-17 "All Scripture is God-breathed and is useful for teaching, rebuking, correcting and training in righteousness, so that the person who serves God may be thoroughly equipped for every good work."

Some people don't like this recent, contemporary version of the Bible called The Message, but it has a punch to it: "Every part of Scripture is God-breathed and useful one way or another - showing us truth, exposing our rebellion, correcting our mistakes, training us to live God's way.  Through the Word we are put together and shaped up for the tasks God has for us."

That gives a fresh perspective on it, doesn't it!?

I like the way God uses the Scriptures best.  Ephesians, a book of the New Testament, has a verse about the Bible being 'the sword of the Spirit’.   God has perfect knowledge, and He is qualified to use His sword - the book He authored.  We need to be very sure we are being led by His Spirit if we presume to wield that sword - it can be a deadly weapon. Having said that, let me quote a Bible verse! "...the Lord is acting as the witness between you and the wife of your youth, because you have broken faith with her..."   Malachi 2:14

Malachi said God hates divorce. He also said God hates a man 'covering himself with violence as well as with his garment.'  This was in the context of telling the Israelites that God was not pleased with the way men were 'breaking faith' with their wives. God really doesn't like it when men abuse their wives.  The marriage relationship is meant to be a living example to us of the relationship between Christ and His faithful followers - the (true) church.  Christ loved the church and gave Himself for her.  He wants husbands to do the same.

When women are abused by their husbands, it takes a terrible emotional and physical toll. I remember awakening one morning to a waking dream of myself lying, bruised black and blue from head to foot.  It wasn't real - physically. But I was to discover later that it was very real in a psychological sense. And though not obvious externally, I was being physically damaged as well.

The Bible quotes Jesus in John 10:10: "The thief comes only to steal, kill and destroy; I have come that they may have life - and life to the full." I was being destroyed. Something was very wrong. I am only beginning to understand how wrong fifteen years later.

I really hope my automatic pilot keeps guiding us safely through this. Keep your wits about you, and we should be ok. God's been defusing some unexploded bombs in me lately, and I want to tell you about them.   The lessons embedded in these stories are very instructive.

I am a very open person. I'll talk freely about anything you like to bring up generally. This subject is extremely sensitive, though, and I have to come at it very carefully. It's not that I mind discussing it - but the usual problem applies. Someone else is involved, so I am constrained by love not to say anything that might be hurtful. "Speaking the truth in love, we will in all things grow up into Him who is the Head, that is Christ."    Ephesians 4:15

The first few times that mental illness caused my husband to abuse me emotionally, I was deeply traumatised.  It was the frog into the hot water type stuff, and a normal, intelligent frog would jump straight out of that water and find refuge - then she would think through the spiritual and philosophical implications of the whole business from a vantage point of safety. Not so this little frog. I had some newly acquired beliefs that hadn't been tried in the fire yet. Love seemed to demand that I help my husband find a solution to his problem, no matter what the cost to myself.    So I stayed in that hot water, though it felt like I would be boiled alive.   Then someone turned down the heat a bit and I thought it would be ok. It was still frightfully hot, but I could survive. The old lie was still there, too, quietly residing beside the new truth that had been planted in my heart. Remember it?  There was no-one to help, so I had to be strong and rely on my own resources to survive.  Well, now I had Jesus to help - I must be able to survive anything!

Year after year, the heat was slowly rising again.  Eventually it would reach that fatal temperature where bodily functions could no longer be maintained - organ meltdown I think it's called.  Long before this I had lost the ability to climb out, even if I had realised it was right to do so.

Through years of trial and error, accumulated experiences and slow maturing, I am quite a different person to the frog years. It's almost like they never happened. If it wasn't for the PTSD-like episodes (which I haven't described yet, in case you were trying to remember what I said), I would marvel at how completely God must have shielded me during that time. I am still very thankful, and know that His presence with me allowed me to grow inwardly, even while I was outwardly struggling for life.

Rather than lose momentum and look at what lessons I learned through the years, I want to zoom straight to now, the year 2000. Grant and I have recognised the effects of trauma since just before we married.  We have always prayed together about it, but much of our attention has been diverted by the physical symptoms we've had to deal with related to ME. (That's Myalgic Encephalomyelitis, remember.. not me.. as in me...!)   Recently we were lent some videos of a seminar on a counselling and prayer technique which has proven very effective in helping people with trauma-related problems.   We identified with it immediately, and after only watching one of the four videos, we were ready to pray and ask God to lead us to some effective solutions to my annoying 'reactions', as we call them.

Oh, I wish I could tell you ALL about it... That's me - I love to tell all the details of anything God has done. I get so excited, and it all seems so amazing! I wish life was like that sometimes - nice and simple and we could be free to just tell the world how we feel about God... but it just doesn't work out that way.  Not very often anyway. I have to limit myself to a few well-chosen words on this one. Do you think that's possible!?  I'll try.

When I have a 'reaction' there is always a trigger. It is generally a situation which, in some way, reminds me of something that traumatised me. The reaction takes the form of intense feelings, quite unrelated to the triggering incident.   Where once there was a certain extremely traumatic event, followed by the resulting intense feelings of fear, and emotional turmoil, now there is just the reaction.  All it takes is the memory to be triggered and it all comes back.   This sounds simple and easy to recognise, but in my case it isn't.  Some people have picture flashbacks - mine are just feeling flashbacks and it's not always obvious what is happening.

I suspect that the reason this is happening to me now is because, at the time, I didn't have the ability to protect myself and help my husband at the same time.  In order to support him I had to look after him, and there was no time for me to get the help I needed.  I wouldn't do it the same way again, but at the time I did what I thought best, and coped the only way I knew how.

Fifteen years after the first traumatic incident occurred, I finally saw the truth about how God viewed my situation.  I literally saw Jesus calling me to Himself, and leading me away from the source of danger. To some people, this is so basic as to be ridiculous. To me it was pure, liberating revelation!

You might like to blame me; some might blame the church; others blame my ex-husband. We could try blaming God, even! It makes no difference who you point the finger at, it happened the way it did and the only one responsible for sorting out the resulting tangle was me. All I knew to do was take it to Jesus and ask Him to sort it out.   He could use anyone, or anything He liked, and I would co-operate.  He chose to use Grant, and a common-sense prayer approach which depends on the Holy Spirit for enlightenment, and Jesus for direct intervention.

We have prayed quite a few times about various aspects of the PTSD.   Each time it has been a very special encounter with a real God, who loves to speak truth and heal wounds with His love.  Grant has watched in wonder as God meets with me and reveals new insights into His ways, which are higher and more fantastic than I even knew to hope for. 

I could wish I knew God better back then. I could try and find someone to blame for it all.  Or I could be thankful for the fact that God has a plan and is working it out, step by step, in an exciting adventure of discovery.  I choose the last one!

The book of Nehemiah in the Old Testament tells the story of the rebuilding of the walls of Jerusalem which had been reduced to rubble by a marauding enemy.  That's what our lives are like, under the destructive influence of our spiritual enemy and our own sin. Before the rebuilding was complete, the enemy were still able to run in and out of the city at will. I see my life like that in the frog years. God was with me, there's no doubt about that.  But the walls of my life had crumbled and needed rebuilding, brick by brick, and until the work reached a certain height, I was still vulnerable to the destructive influences of my spiritual enemy, the devil, using whatever people and circumstances were available to him.

"... Your enemy the devil prowls around like a roaring lion looking for someone to devour."
1 Peter 5:8 

As I have watched Jesus work in my life, my faith has matured and grown stronger.  I am better able to put the next verse's instructions into practice: "Resist him, standing firm in your faith...." v9a  And the promise? "... The God of all grace, who called you to His eternal glory in Christ, after you have suffered a little while, will Himself restore you and make you strong, firm and steadfast.  To Him be the power for ever and ever, Amen."  v10-11  Yep. I say Amen to that!

"... The God of all grace, who called you to His eternal glory in Christ, after you have suffered a little while, will Himself restore you and make you strong, firm and steadfast.  To Him be the power for ever and ever, Amen."  
1 Peter 5:10-11

That was how I finished up the last time I sat down to write a segment of this story.  Well... He's done it!! Or I should say, He's doing it!!

If you're reading this story straight through you have the advantage over me in that I have to go back now and recap what I wrote over a year ago! My advantage, of course, is that the events I am recounting to you are living memories to me whereas you have had to follow my somewhat disjointed plot and are no doubt struggling to piece it all together! No problem - in the end I'm sure you'll grasp the overall theme of my story... and that is the amazing truth that Jesus is alive and active and full of compassion!

Way back near the beginning of the story, I mentioned that I was looking forward to Easter 2000 because God had made it very clear to me there was something of significance going to happen then. Go and refresh your memory if you need to... It’s around page 4.

OK... now that we're all caught up I can start telling the amazing story of how God healed me from Chronic Fatigue Syndrome. It's a bit long, but I can't help that, I'm sorry. God just seems to like to do things thoroughly in my life and it tends to take a bit of time!

Easter was getting closer. Strangely, I lacked the huge sense of anticipation that I had experienced on other occasions when God had given me particular dates to look forward to. Perhaps it was because I had been disappointed that total healing hadn't come yet and I was protecting myself from further let down.  I knew something was significant about this Easter but I had no idea what.

Leading up to the 'big day' there were some interesting developments. 'Babies' seemed to be the theme of the month prior to Easter and I began to get the impression that there was some symbolism I needed to take note of. The impression I had was that the significance of Easter for me this year was to do with the birth of something. When the day arrived we were due to travel to Mannum (my first visit to this smallish country town on the River Murray in South Australia) for a family get together.   To get there we had to pass through the new tunnel which had been recently completed on the freeway outside Adelaide.  It occurred to me that a tunnel is vaguely suggestive of a birth canal but I didn't pursue that thought very far. As we approached the tunnel, God spoke to me!  (Yes, He really did - strange isn't it!?)    He said, "The words of the song that will come on the cassette player as you enter the tunnel will be significant."  Right on cue a new song started at the mouth of the tunnel... and the words to the song were: "Be bold and be strong, banish fear and doubt, for the promise of your God is to bless your coming in and to bless your coming out." I couldn't know the full significance of those words just then (and neither can you - I'll get to that later), but I did find it amusing that I was coming into a tunnel and coming out the other end!

Again I apologise that there are so many details to pull together in this story, but that's the way it happens, so bear with me…

When we arrived at Mannum one of the first things that occurred was that a baby was placed in my arms!  (He was the newborn of some relations at the picnic we were attending.) Interesting, I thought... but what did it all mean!?  I was encouraged by the events of the day but they seemed to confirm my 'suspicions' that this was something quite outside the realm of my understanding and I would have to wait for more revelation.  It didn't look like a simple healing - babies spoke of long, slow processes to me.... more long, slow processes... sigh...

The next five months brought interesting changes. The most influential one was that we started attending a church on Sunday evenings where prayer was a high priority and was offered at every meeting.  Having found it difficult to convince people that they could be effective instruments of God's healing power by praying with me, this was a huge encouragement. The first time I went forward to receive prayer I was thrilled when the person praying said they saw a picture of a baby curled up in foetal position, and then prayed that the baby would grow and develop until it could walk.   What a confirmation!  But... what was it all about?!! 

The following weeks brought some of the answer. Mainly, I believe, as a result of the ongoing prayers of others and the emphasis on teaching what the Bible has to say about such things as healing, faith and prayer, I started hearing God's voice very clearly and it was all good news! He was telling me very plainly that the baby was my spiritual life and it was brought to birth through faith, and faith was the stimulus to growth that would eventually lead to this baby getting up and walking.  I continued to receive regular prayer and listened intently for God's voice. I wanted to co-operate with everything He was doing - and He seemed to be unusually busy!  I can't tell you all that happened during those five months, but a couple of things will help as examples.

One of the many symptoms I had with CFS was a severe problem with low blood sugar. Around this time it was at its all-time aggravating worst and I was having to eat something every 2 hours to avoid nausea, dizziness and weakness. The last straw came when I couldn't even get through the night without having to eat something. One night when I woke up and the nausea started again I got angry about it and refused to get up. In that half awake state which accompanies night time waking I was startled to find myself speaking firmly to my body and telling it that there were other ways of balancing the sugar in my blood. I began to tell it to break down some of the ample fat deposits it had built up while I had been so sedentary!  The next thing I knew I was waking up in the morning! My first thought was, "Wow! I wish I could do that in the daytime!"

The next night it happened again, and the next. By the third day I was 'doing that' in the daytime and it was working. Each time my body went into its habitual plea for food I spoke firmly to it until it stabilised, then I would eat. A few weeks of this and I was completely free of the problem and didn't need to speak at all.  Strange... very strange... but I have no doubt it was an idea planted into my mind by God and its effectiveness bears testimony to that conclusion.  If you can cope with that one, try this next example...

There had been many words spoken in the prayer times at church. I am not a very skeptical person, but neither am I gullible.  I always wanted to know if what was being prayed was in line with the truth - always first priority with me. I have a low tolerance for hype and fads. Many, many times I would ask God for confirmation so I could rest assured I was 'on the right track'. He often overwhelmed me with delight as He convinced me He was thoroughly involved in this process of seeking healing.

Maybe I'll give you an example of that before I tell you the next bit. You deserve to be assured (or reassured) of the reality of what I am describing here. The truth can always stand the test of close scrutiny. By the way I welcome any feedback - questions, comments, (gentle) criticisms at any time.

For some time I had been experiencing bouts of depression which seemed to descend on me suddenly. Grant and I had taken a strong stand against this in prayer and were unusually successful.  I say unusually because our experience of prayer had tended to convince us that it was often a long drawn out process to get results. 

Around the time when we first started to receive prayer at church regularly, someone mentioned the words 'grief' and 'confusion' in prayer, and said that God would give me a new song.  As soon as I heard this I immediately asked God to confirm to me if what was being prayed was real or just something from the person's own mind. I like to take seriously those things which are spoken in prayer and it is important to me whether they are accurate or not.

The next day I was dragging my feet a bit and feeling a bit down. I asked Grant to pray with me resisting depression but nothing was happening... in fact I began to feel progressively worse. After about the third time I suddenly remembered the words 'grief' and 'confusion' spoken the night before and a light went on in my head! They were the perfect words to describe how I was feeling. (This makes perfect sense to me - it may not to you if you haven't suffered from emotional trauma). I told Grant and he immediately began to resist grief and confusion instead of the usual depression. The result was instantaneous and startling. I felt like a weight had been lifted from my mind and body and I was full of what I can only call joy.  I was literally jumping with it! (This was very, very unexpected!) Next thing I was up doing the dishes and singing worship songs at the top of my voice...(the 'prophesied' new song from the night before had arrived!)

Just as an aside to this story: Prior to this incident I had seen a picture of conjoined twins in my mind. When I asked God what they were called He said Joy and Peace. I had no idea what it was about and why they should be conjoined. As often happens I told Grant about it and a few days later he pointed out an article in the daily newspaper about some conjoined twins that had been born and there was a photo.  He never sees pictures or hears things in the way I do, so I think God likes to confirm things to him in this way just so he knows he's not dealing with a fruitcake wife!  It occurred to me a few days after the grief and confusion incident that joy and peace are opposites to grief and confusion... interesting. Just what the full significance of them being conjoined twins is, I can't say. I just love that about God.  His ways are higher than ours and His thoughts than our thoughts. Who can ever say they are bored with God around!?

I want to move on, now, to that other example of the type of healing God was doing during the five months between Easter and the overnight healing I received.

It was now three months after Easter. As we always did, we went off to church on Sunday night to praise and worship Jesus in a lively way, hear some teaching about faith in Jesus as God describes it in the Bible, and receive some bold prayer in the same vein. I was loving it.  I had missed that sort of emphasis over the past five years since while I had been ill and my spirit was soaking it up like a sponge.

This particular night the pastor was away on holidays and the assistant pastor was preaching. As I went for prayer afterwards I especially prayed that God would make sure that what was prayed for me was real. As I said I am careful about such things. The man praying was quiet for a moment, then said, "Bev, I believe God is saying this: Take one step at a time. It's step by step.. don't run ahead."  I almost cried and laughed at the same time.  Why, you ask? Because during the week I had heard God say those identical words to me while I was at home. I told Grant too, so he was able to marvel at God's ways with me when he heard the prayer Sunday night!

I think God wanted to fully reassure me of His involvement before the next prayer because it was a bit more controversial. The man prayed about a spirit of infirmity that he believed was somehow hindering my healing. Now infirmity isn't a word I use very much. In fact, before that night I don't think I'd ever used it, especially not in relation to my sickness. But that is what it means - sickness. A spirit of sickness?   Could this be true? How could I know? I thought I'd heard of it mentioned in the Bible.  That helped. But it didn't mean I had one... Did you have a spirit.. or what?   I wasn't new to the idea that evil spirits could be inside us. Three times before I had been delivered of the presence of evil spirits inside my body and each time it was very real and quite in line with things I had seen written about in Jesus' time in the Bible.  Was this the same? How should I respond to this information? A few weeks went by before I had anything remotely resembling an answer to any of these questions, but when it came I was left in no doubt that what was revealed was true and from God.

The revelation came as the result of prayer again.  The pastor was back from holidays and during prayer mentioned seeing a mountain that I was unable to climb, but God would take me up on eagle's wings and I would be soaring with God on high. Sounded good!  Next thing, I felt a dragging sensation on my hips and legs and I fell over and the pastor told an evil spirit to come off me (without naming the spirit). I wasn't sure what to make of this but it didn't concern me. God was obviously in control.

Immediately after that time I was given a new authority in prayer that I had never experienced before.  I was easily able to boldly 'resist and reject' (words given by God) Chronic Fatigue Syndrome, the spirit of infirmity and particular symptoms of CFS which continually made life a misery for me. (It was as a result of this that I was able to get rid of the low blood sugar mentioned earlier.)  To fully appreciate the impact of this you need to understand that I am fairly quiet when it comes to prayer and not particularly bold.  This was a new experience for me. At one stage I remember thinking., "What if I can't keep it up?" and immediately God spoke, reminding me of Philippians 2:13: "...for it is God who works in you to will and to act according to His good purpose." Perfect!

Then, just to reinforce it, He gave me 2 Peter 1:3-4 where it talks about His great and precious promises, and says "His divine power has given us everything we need for life and godliness through our knowledge of Him who called us through His own glory and goodness." There it was again - it was all of God so I could rest in that. Just to cement it in, He finished off with the verses in Isaiah 55 about His word accomplishing the task for which he sent it!

All this time I was having to pray over and over but it was encouraging as we were seeing some progress and had a satisfying sense of working together with God. An interesting supplement to the low blood sugar incident which was described earlier, and is tied in with this time of taking authority in Jesus' name over situations and spiritual opposition is this:

I had felt for some time prior to this that God was reminding me of when Jesus said to His disciples, "This sort only come out by prayer and fasting."  I didn't like to hear this on two counts. One, I didn't have any insight into the spiritual side of the problems I was having, and two, I couldn't possible fast because at that stage I couldn't go 2 hours without food. I needn't have had any concerns.  God knows what we need even before we ask.  Not only did he provide me with the necessary discernment, He gave me both the opportunity and the ability to fast and pray.  Each morning I was able to spend quite a bit of time in prayer after my night time fast once I no longer had a problem with low blood sugar.

Now that you have some idea of what exciting events were transpiring during that period of time, we'll move on to the climactic conclusion! It was nearly the end of August and, unbeknownst to me, my healing was only a month away.  I saw a picture, or more accurately, had the impression, that God was leaning over towards me and backing away, in much the same way that a father might who was trying to encourage his baby to walk to him. I also heard the words: ‘The time draws nigh.’   "Whatever that means", I thought!

Something I haven't mentioned is that during the time I had CFS I developed a sensitivity to gluten and lactose which was a real nuisance. Do you realise how many foods contain either or both of those substances!? Just about everything convenient anyway!

We decided to stay in a motel for 2 nights to solve the problem of how to provide an interesting holiday for 2 children while I was still not well. It's very exciting to stay in a motel when you're young.  The rest of the family were enjoying eating out while I was left to make do with what I could safely eat.

On the second day my patience ran out when I found myself reduced to opening a cold can of spaghetti, made from rice and lentils... not very appetising at the best of times, but especially nauseating when everyone else is eating yummy smelling pasties with sauce. I felt particularly annoyed by my dietary restrictions and came up with the idea that perhaps I could successfully resist the problem through prayer in Jesus' name. Quickly I chickened out at the idea because the repercussions of eating gluten, especially, were so bad. But the seed had been planted and as the day wore on I couldn't quite shake off the idea completely.  Eventually I invited the whole family to pray with me, just incase I wasn't mad after all and it was a good idea in disguise. To my utter amazement, God spoke to me clearly as we prayed, "I am not going to tell you what to do, but if you do it remember what I have taught you."

I just can't help it. When God speaks to me I get inspired! And that's all it took to convince me that it was indeed a possibility for me to pray in faith and be healed from these food sensitivities. (It probably helped that I had received an instant healing from a lactose intolerance years earlier.) I told the family to go and get into the car, leaving me alone to pray for a moment. I quietly asked God for the words I should speak to achieve His will in the matter, opened my mouth to begin, not knowing quite what I was going to say, and what came out gave me quite a surprise!

"I resist and reject the lie of Chronic Fatigue Syndrome in my life!"
(Lord, was I supposed to say that?!!)

GOD: "Every place where you put your foot I have given to you."

("I will give you every place where you set your foot, as I promised Moses." Joshua 1:3)

OK! Let's go out for pizza!

 Which we did and had a great family time - the first in a long while. On the way to the pizza restaurant, Jessie (14) started to sing (an unusual thing as she is usually very quiet and shy): "I walk by faith, each step by faith, to live by faith I put my trust in You.  Every step I take is a step of faith, no weapon formed against me shall prosper.  Every breathe I take is a prayer of faith, if my god is for me then who can be against me?  Etc.." The perfect song!  Here was the explanation of the baby walking analogy.  By faith I had learned to walk in the truth that Jesus set me free from sickness when He died on the cross.  That was the Easter symbolism. As I thought this, God immediately confirmed it with an inner assurance that I was 'seeing' correctly.

From that moment on I was no longer gluten or lactose intolerant, and I no longer had the severely debilitating symptoms of CFS which had plagued me for years. I still had a long way to go to build up strength in my body, but it was now possible to go for walks without the risk of relapse putting me in bed for days on end, to go to bed without massage for my painful muscles... and the list could go on and on. It's now 7 months later and I can still say, yes, I am healed from CFS and it all stemmed from that one prayer of faith (though there was a lot of prayer leading up to that to make it possible)

I'd love to say that was the end of the story and we all lived happily ever after.  It's so much neater that way! But life is never that simple it seems. So I'll stick with the truth... there has been lots of prayer since then, lots of breakthroughs, lots of heartaches. Life still sometimes resembles a battlefield for me even after that incredible miracle. Shall we move on to a happier subject?

Lets jump forward to Easter 2001!  Of course to do that will involve a bit of backtracking to explain how we ended up living in Mannum... which we have as of late January 2001. But we might be able to avoid some of the harsher realities this way. We can gloss over the hard bits and go straight for the highlights! Ah, wouldn’t it be nice if life was like that!

Do you remember hearing about Mannum before in this story?  It was last Easter!  We went to a family gathering there and it was my first ever visit. God had been speaking about babies and we drove up through a tunnel and a baby was placed in my arms when we arrived.  Does that jog your memory enough? Once I was healed we had to start thinking what we would do next.  Grant had been caring for me full time, and would gradually be able to get his strength back now, as I would. Perhaps we should move to the country now that we were able to consider moving. No sooner had we thought about it than an opportunity presented itself, in Mannum of all places!  Before we knew it we were on our way...

I told you I would gloss over the hard bits - packing is always a nightmare isn't it!?  Actually, don't tell Grant but I loved it... getting organised was a little but of heaven after years of loosely controlled chaos! He hated every minute of it!

Do you remember the song whose words God said would be significant the day we drove through the tunnel. Well they became even more significant when we moved to Mannum. "Be bold and be strong, banish fear and doubt" may as well have been my theme song those months of prayer before the big breakthrough, and the words ' for the promise of your God is to bless your coming in and bless your going out' had seemed amusing because we were going through a tunnel, but one day I decided to find out where it came from in the Bible. It was in Deuteronomy and the other words I found there were 'to bless you in the city and bless you in the country'!   It really was significant because we were certainly looking for God's assurance that the move to the country would be a good thing for us. We didn't have to beg for that, I might add. There were many assurances given that not only would it be a good thing for us, but it was part of a bigger plan that we knew nothing about and God Himself had engineered the whole thing. I won't go into that now, though. We're talking about Easter 2001, aren't we!

It was during the weeks leading up to Easter that I had the vague sensation that God was giving me an impression of something. Things had been very quiet in that way lately - something over which I have no control. God is completely sovereign and chooses when and how He will speak. I had been disappointed at how long my recovery was taking - after an initial speedy return to a certain degree of strength I had plateaued out and still spent a good deal of time in prayer for God's intervention in my circumstances. He had been characteristically quiet. So when I thought I heard Him whispering I was all ears! Was He saying that this Easter was significant too?  Wasn't it just symbolic and a pointer to the death of Christ on the cross, and His resurrection by which our freedom had been bought for us? Nothing more was said, so I waited, half expectantly, half in resignation that I was dreaming.

Easter came.. Easter went.. and suddenly I was a whole lot better!   The circulation problems which had bothered me since my healing dramatically improved and I different somehow. I had still been having a sleep each day just to avoid the late afternoon slump - I no longer needed it. 'Tis mystery all!

That brings us right up to date.  Today is April 24th, 2001 for me, which is the anniversary of that special 'prophesied' day I wrote of at the beginning of this story.  That wasn't deliberate. From my perspective it is an amazing coincidence - though one I was hardly surprised at when I noticed it, knowing as I do how often God does things like that.

It was made possible by the fact that I am feeling so much clearer in my brain now that my circulation has improved, and I know it is God's doing in ways we cannot know. He loves using times and dates to illustrate His complete control over all time and space, in order to encourage us to a deeper faith in His sovereignty and love for us as we struggle here on earth to make sense of our lives.