Where I Am

2 Corinthians 4:16-18 : Therefore we do not lose heart. Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day. ¹⁷ For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all. ¹⁸ So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen, since what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal

I am going to be utterly honest to start and I hope this doesn’t come across as ‘woe is me’ or a pity party, but here goes. It is hard to imagine what has happened to my body in the last 16 years. I just don’t get how it has managed to almost completely turn on me. Most of you know about the catastrophic digestive condition which has led me to intestinal surgery and possible permanent shut-down of my digestive system this Wednesday at the Cleveland Clinic. The surgery is to repair basically a poor performance by my surgeon in Rochester in 2002. What a lot of you don’t know is since I got diagnosed with colitis in 1997, my eyes, ears, lungs, voice, and nerves have also been significantly damaged and have YET(soon) to be repaired. Just recently, I have found myself unable to wear shoes without the bottom of my feet feeling like they have razor blades across the length and width of them due to new nerve damage from a med I took. I live with these reminders of my body’s shortcomings every minute of every day, as soon as I open my eyes in the morning.

I write about all that for a couple of reasons. I have sugarcoated a lot of what I go through because I don’t like to complain and don’t want pity, but for this blog it’s essential to be honest with you, my friends, about the reality of the suffering that has bestowed me to this point. And the reason I need you to realize the reality of it, is to realize the source of my day to day hope and ability to live a general life of joy and peace.

I also wanted to touch on the fact we are so often quick to feel like we have to be tough and gritty in front of people when inside we are plagued. The truth of the matter is on our own we are all weak and plagued. We are all dying- and there are no exceptions. I suppose a lot of people’s main goal is to live and die as comfortably as possible, while suffering as little as possible. That certainly is still my hope for myself in all actuality-but the end of this body and this life will come the same way for every human being who has ever walked the face of this earth.

If everything I wrote above sounds morbid, let me explain on the contrary. With the difficulties I have encountered I have gone from feeling cursed because of them to feeling blessed in spite of them; all the while being insatiably hungry to use them to help people who don’t know Jesus to eventually know Jesus. If I suffer for sufferings sake, I served no more purpose for the eternal kingdom of heaven than had I actually lived healthy for healthy’s sake.

What I could/should be:

 -Depressed at my physical situation at such a young age.

 -Bitter at the surgeon who built my system wrong in 2002 , causing 11 years of problems and causing me to have to have the same difficult surgery again this Wednesday.

- Bitter at God for my situation (Which I was for many years).

- Still at a poker table, drowning my conditional sorrows in temporary escape.

What I am:

-My quality of life health wise right now on a scale of 1-10 can best be defined as Grace.

- Hopeful that all these problems will be cured and healed, just like I was cured and healed of Crohn’s Disease in 2011.

- Crohn’s free

- Married to a person who epitomizes God’s love for me. The only person who I would ever want to walk with me through these circumstances on a daily basis, and a person who was made and molded to handle the difficulties of all of this with such  unwavering diligence. If you know her, you know this to be true: To know her is to love her.

 - PROMISED that even if these afflictions continue in this world, that one day I will have every aspect of my health back.

- While maybe not by earthly definition, blessed in every way.

What I want to come of all of this:

-The one’s I love most who don’t know the truth of The Bible and the absolute guaranteed salvation that is found in giving your life to Jesus Christ, to somehow accept him into their hearts through my story.

I remember saying to God years ago when I finally surrendered it all to him, that if just one person benefits from my story than I can accept the scenario my physical body is in.  Well, I have seen that already so I can’t go back to feeling cursed now; or ever again.

Last year on our wedding day, I had 6 full hours of digestive relief and pain-free living. From the time I got sick in October 1997 until today, August 17^th 2013, I have never had that amount of consecutive relief. My previous record was about 4 hours, and my norm these days is about 30 minutes. That is obviously not a coincidence, but a definitive mercy from above. I don’t think that God gave me these afflictions- I think they are just a bi-product of a very imperfect world; but through my afflictions he has given me stories to convey that would have anyone who has heard them left with only the option-to either find me to be a liar who is making up one crazy coincidence or contrived story after another, or to find what I’m saying about God to be true.

Bottom line- I just want to influence people towards Jesus. And if I have to deal with 24 hour a day ailments of my most vital of organs to do that, who am I to demand complete health and normalcy? I’d love health and normalcy, but not if I were to lose focus of what’s eternally important because of it. There is no two ways about it, we are all going to spend eternity somewhere other than this earth.

 The thing with faith is you don’t have to be sure God is real to believe-but once you do believe I assure you God will show himself to be real. To give my take on a play off of a C.S Lewis thought, think of this: If we waited for absolute proof that things will bring us good before we elected to participate in them, we would die from a lack of sleep. See you can never know sleep is real and good until you partake in it. And even once you partake in it; it is not something you can tangibly prove is real because you never really see it. You just know it happened.  No matter who tells you about it, or preaches of its legitimacy, sleep can only be grasped once you attempt to get to know it. But so often unfortunately, when people talk of a God that they have experienced and seen to be true, people who haven’t seen it doubt it and cast it off without every looking into its credibility. How frustrating would it be if someone told you that you never slept because you can’t prove that it’s really sleeping you are doing? We never thought about doubting sleep before exploring its benefits, and that only brings us 8 hours of goodness and refreshment…But we quickly doubt the God of the Bible when the upside to him existing is much, much more than 8 hours of goodness and refreshment.

We live in a world where no individual thing can be put in front of our eyes without believing it was produced by an entity. If I put a couch in front of you and tried to convince you there wasn’t a grand designer of it, you would call me insane.  So that being the case, we are unwilling to except any one thing can just appear without origin, except for the world which holds everything?

I recently heard a story on the radio about a pastor who was trying to convince a non-believer of what he knew to be true of Jesus Christ. The non-believer had a refutation for each and every point the pastor tried to make and the pastor finally broke down in tears and said “Listen, I didn’t bring this up to start a back and forth argument or try to make you feel bad, I just so badly want you to know the God I know and the truth I know, because I love you and care about you.” Dejected, the pastor went home and the unbelieving man showed up at his door later that day. The pastor asked why he was there, and the man said he wanted to give his life to Jesus. The pastor looked at him quizzically, and said, “How did this happen? You had a counterpoint to every point I tried to make.” “I did have a counterpoint to everything you said”, the man said, “except when you tearfully told me you loved me and cared about me. I had no counter for that. I knew right then your belief in Jesus was genuine and legit.”

Listen, I write this because in a hundred years all that will matter is where we are, not where we are now, or where we have been. The Bible says that no one can enter the kingdom of heaven unless he has asked Jesus to live in his heart as his personal savior. Christians are not being judgmental or accusatory when telling people the essentiality of acceptance of Jesus- they are simply repeating the words Jesus himself spoke in a recorded book of history. The beauty of that is that it just takes belief and doesn’t require jumping through any hoops. In studying the history of world religions for my college class, I found that the only religion that has a God who lives, and a deity subject of a human on earth who never died was Bible believing Christianity. It is also the only faith that boasts of a salvation that requires only belief and acceptance in God, and not salvation through doing or being “good” or meeting a certain amount of self-action requirements. Who could every be truly “good” enough to satisfy a perfect God? Who would even want to try?

God has given us the ultimate gift; the ability to live in an imperfect place for a little while and experience good, bad, and everything in between- but with it the option (think about that, we have an option- which doubles as a duty to ourselves and the people whose lives we will touch with our legacy- which triples as the most logical life insurance policy one could ever sign up for) to go to a perfect place for all of time as the culmination of our imperfect journey.

Finally…

I like to write. I believe it’s my best way of communicating my life’s stories.

I write because I have seen the goodness of the Lord, even amongst and probably most amongst the harshness of my physical difficulties.

I write because on Wednesday I will walk into a hospital in Cleveland, Ohio, trust a Christian surgeon named “Church”, whom I found through the lead singer of a Christian band who shares my same storing of being healed of an incurable disease, and I will voluntarily subject myself to an arduous surgery that I was only supposed to have to have once.

I write because I am excited and overjoyed with where he is taking me on this earth. If he is for me, nothing can be against me.

 I write because I can’t wait to wake up Wednesday after surgery and see my wife, and start our new life together; one which will allow me more time with her and less time with my bidet. =)

I write because I am not Benjamin Button , and neither are you. I understand better than most what its like to feel hopeless, and what its like to subsequently find the utmost hope.

And to steal a line from the pastor from the story above, I write because I just so badly want you to know the God that I know and the truth that I know, because I love you and care about your eternal future.

Here is a good article on what it is to become a Christian. It’s not a prayer ritual, but a simple belief. We are saved by Grace through Faith. Nothing more, nothing less. Good day, friends and family.   http://www.gotquestions.org/prayer-of-salvation.html

Addendum: As most of you know my surgery was good overall, with some pretty concerning complications( for 10 days), but I sit here today 3 weeks later doing really well. I am getting about 3 to 5 hours of  time in between using the bathroom, a far cry from my 30 to 45 minutes before the surgery.(and it will only get better). Somehow, some way (God), my breathing problems seem to be better since surgery and I have barely touched my Advair. Also, I had serious nerve issues in my nose and feet and I can tell you that my nose has barely itched or tingled since surgery and my feet have been really good too. I am still believing total healing there, but what a miracle to be feeling this much better in so many ways just 3 weeks after the surgery. I truly believe my whole body was being affected by my mangled and disturbed intestinal situation. I’m so lucky and blessed to have found someone to fix it. Thanks for reading everyone.

'Key'note Geeker - A Blog About My Smidgens of O.C.D. and the Joys They Bring My Wife

My wife Melissa just recently bought a decoratory key chain holder for our keys. It has pretty flowers on it and it pretty much poo-poo's the notion that I as a male even live here. "So what! It's just a key holder," you say. "Whats your point weird-o?" Well, this key chain holder puts to bed an issue Missy and I  have had since we got married. Where the heck to set our keys??? Well, in actuality the real issue has been less her and our keys, and more where I want her to set her keys. Now that I mention it even further, the whole issue was just me being really annoying and silly.. Let me explain...

When I come home I set my keys in the same place every time. You see I have just a smattering of obsessive compulsive tendencies. For example, when watching a sporting event I almost always have to have a baseball in my hands. I have held some sort of ball or puck in my hands during important sporting events ever since I was about 10 years old. I toss it when nervous, I squeeze it when something good happens, or I throw it into the couch cushions as hard as I can when the national semifinal ends with the ball in Trevor Cooney's unpolished hands. I'm going on 23 years of this habit and I don't see it ending anytime soon, much to my wife's chagrin- especially when she thinks I'm coming in for a kiss but am actually reaching around her to grab my baseball out of the couch cushion. There are a few others that can be discussed at another time, but just know that I have a smattering of habitual tendencies that could (or undoubtedly are) considered weird.

So when I come home I set my keys straight ahead on Missy's Grandpas antique table which sits in what I consider the foyer of our apartment-although an imaginary foyer at that. It is important to me that the keys do not lay rest in a room or in an area designated for "living." They must go in the foyer!(imaginary foyer) Missy does not agree. When she comes in she will set her keys to her immediate left, on an end table in what I consider to the be living room. I HATE them there. She can put anything else on that table-a camera, a mug, nail polish, even a list of  tedious and gut wrenching chores for me to do and I am fine. But the keys? Nope.I just can't do it.

So for the 10 months we have been married, I will either come home and see the keys there in her special spot and move them to my own happy place, or we come home together and I intercept the keys and put them in my mindsets peaceful nook. I then dutifully and all so kindly ask her if she wouldn't mind from now on putting the keys in the imaginary foyer on the antique table, to which she even more kindly responds, "No thank you." This conversation has occurred probably 200 times in the past year. She has never once agreed to give into my smidgen of O.C.D, but to her credit she has never moved them back spitefully to her table after I put them on my table. In all this,one thing I have learned is I didn't marry a spineless woman- that's for sure.

Lo and behold, Miss Missy (as the kids in Sunday School call her) finally  got tired of Mr. Joe's (Sunday School name) civil key wars and bought the aforementioned key chain holder,  which serenely holds both sets of keys on it as I write.We have found a happy place for the keys, and for that we are both very happy.
(On a side note, I also hate having keys or anything more than whatever the weight of my current cell phone is in my pocket. They are too heavy and weigh me down. I remember a time when my dear friend Jim Carpenter disgustingly saw the size of my keyring and demanded I take keys that were not being used or hailed from an unknown origin,off my key chain. He and I spent a half hour that night picking keys off my ring. Anyways, there is a good story about not liking my keys on my person which I will share in another blog.)

Finally, this morning at 545 AM I went to grab my keys to go to work and couldn't find them. I didn't see them on my table and immediately thought I had left them in the door on the outside of our apartment, which I have done a handful of times before. Missy usually gives me a loving speech when that happens about how an intruder could come in and steal our ice cream as we sleep. So this morning I was thinking about how I couldn't believe I had left them in the door again and quickly prayed our ice cream was still in tact in the freezer.

But then I realized that the keys were not in the doorknob, but on our new key chain holder. I had an instant moment of contemplation and sorrow. I knew in that moment that now that we had a key chain holder, I would never have a chance to give my wife a break about where she puts her keys. Don't get me wrong, it was never a real debate or fight, but it was a chance to show selflessness in even the most petty of categories and I didn't do it. As mundane as it was, my wife wanted her keys one place and I always insisted they go another. It was an instant lesson as I looked at both sets of keys hanging from the wall- that the things I sometimes obsess about and deem important should never be more important than relating to and considering what's important to others.

I wondered how many times I had "moved the keys" on someone else in my life and missed a chance to show them that what was important was not where the keys were, but where they were as people. We waste so much time on "things" and "stuff,"making sure there is a place to safely put those things and a way to get that stuff, all the while forgetting that they are just inanimate objects with no value.

It's so easy to take people for granted and pick at things that mean nothing aside from the silly compulsions of your(my)own withering mind. But in reality, what should be easier than taking people for granted is not taking people for granted. The ones we love the most  have given us the most precious keys of all-the keys to their heart. And there is no good place to set those down.

Welcome Back

It has been a year since I wrote. I have recently felt like I should start writing again and have even more recently felt a constant tug to do so. See, I always loved writing but what stopped me is thinking that what I wanted to write wouldn’t come out right, or that no one would read it. At one point I actually convinced myself not to write because I had so much to write about, I was sure I wouldn’t write about the best thing of the bunch. Pretty lame, huh?

I was reminded of something I wrote a few Christmas Eve’s ago http://joeyd5641.blogspot.com/2011/12/o-silent-night.html . I wrote about suffering and the hope that was born from it. After I wrote it I almost didn’t post it because it sounded too dreary and overemotional (guilty on the overemotional, per usual) at points, yet went ahead and posted it anyways. One anonymous person commented on it and thanked me and said it was written for him or her. I still don’t know who that person was or what it meant to them. I may never know... As I begin writing again so much has happened since the last time I wrote…

I married the closest thing to a perfect person this earth has ever encountered. I'm sure there are a lot of husbands out there reading this that would say the same thing about their respective wives. I know there are many of you reading this that would have a short list that looks like mine….

           

Most Perfect People in the World’s History 1) Jesus Christ (100 percent perfect) 2) My Wife (Somewhere just below 100 percent)……..And then we lucky ones step back and realize that that person isn’t anywhere near perfect in reality- Just perfect for us. Which matter-of-factly points back to the number 1 person on your list, the one who makes all good things possible in his perfect love.

I was also blessed that in the months before, during, and immediately after my aforementioned wedding, I had the greatest health relief of any time in the 16 years of the devastating digestive ailments that have plagued me. 

To sum it up, I rarely if ever go more than a waking hour without having to use the bathroom with painful urgency. Two hours usually has me blowing a kazoo and waving a foam finger that says “I am number 2’s Daddy!” Well, wouldn't you know that during my wedding reception I went from 5pm until 11pm without so much as a minimal urge to go to the bathroom. It had been years since feeling that relief in such duration… This was not a coincidence at all, because I know he is a God of love and he carried me for that evening with his grace.

I have been guilty in the past of “losing my audience” because my writings are too lengthy (See, http://joeyd5641.blogspot.com/2010/07/shame-on-you-lebron.html ), so I will end it here…

I am a quiet guy in real life and truth be told, it is often easier to express myself on paper than it is audibly. That being said, I am going to start writing again regularly. My blog is only ranked 11,661,954^th worldwide for blogs (I’m not sure out of how many), and is only worth 801 dollars and 11 cents according to urlm.or, and it is imperative that we boost it into the top 10 million and a net worth of over a “G-Unit.” 

But in all seriousness, next month I face a monster surgery head on, one that I went through already in 2002. I will write about that. I have a passion for people at times, but also a lack of the necessary passion for people at other times,because I can't seem to get out of the way of my own selfish interests or my own difficult circumstances..And I will write about that. And if you happen to die and I knew you well enough, I will probably write about your life http://joeyd5641.blogspot.com/2010/05/flying-on-wings-of-angel-2005-2006.html  (whether you like it or not). Lastly, I have a passion for heaven and doing whatever I can to encourage people towards what I know is the way there- Not in a judgmental way, but the opposite of that. There is nothing less judgmental than wanting the people you know to know the truth of the paradise that awaits all who choose God. So many Christians get labeled as judgmental for entrusting and sharing the words of The Bible and what it says about heaven's pathway, when in reality it is as judgmental as telling someone who is starving to death that it would be a good idea to get some food as soon as possible.... And you better believe I am going to write about that.

 Because even if I’m the only one reading what I write blog after blog, month after month, I never know when that “anonymous” Christmas Eve reader is going to need to read something I write again. And for that reason alone, this is why I must write.

'I'm Taking My Talents To Cleveland'

I have wanted to write this blog for about a year and two months, but even when I received the good news then that the doctor’s all of a sudden couldn’t find Crohn’s Disease in my body, I wasn’t offered a sufficient remedy to the suffering I was going through. I guess I didn’t felt led to write, because sure it was great that my digestion was disease free, but no one could explain why I was still going to the bathroom every half an hour.

I don’t want to get too into the difficulties of my physical life the last 15 years. The people who have seen it and understand it the most are my mother and now my angel of a fiancé. Most others just know the basics- that I go to the bathroom a lot. I guess I would best describe it as a non functioning digestive system and a chronic stomach bug.

But this is an article about hope. I have hope in recovering from this ailed digestion. My hope comes from Jesus, who in his time has provided me a route and a way to get better. I face major surgery but I face it with the hope that the rest of my life is ahead of me. And the rest of my life is going to be good. I know this for sure.

I was diagnosed with Ulcerative Colitis in 1997 and in 2002 I had my Large Intestine removed. The thing is I never got better after the surgeries like they told me I would. They later diagnosed me with Crohn’s Disease, a catastrophic diagnosis for a delicately rebuilt system. Medically I had the worst digestive condition and disease you could have.

About 2 years ago when I quit gambling I started to believe I was going to be healed and cure of this disease. Many people told me they believed it too. Mary Lou Reilly, one of the most spiritually in tune people I know, felt like God told her to tell me that he has already began healing me. In the midst of the storm I started to proclaim I was healed, as it is biblical to speak what is not yet as though it is.

The night before I went in for a colonoscopy last February, I was praying alone in my apartment when I felt God’s presence more than I have ever felt before. I felt him telling me that “tomorrow is the day, the day I have promised you, the day of your healing.”


I was overwhelmed in that moment and told Melissa that the doctor’s were going to look in tomorrow and find that there is no sign of Crohn’s disease. Mind you this made no sense because for 5 years I had been told unequivocally that it was Crohn’s by more than one doctor. Also, I was very sick that night- sicker than usual- thus why I was going into the doctor the next day.

But I just knew I was healed. I told the doctor before he looked in that he wouldn’t find any disease. When I woke up he asked me who told me I had Crohn’s. I told him a few different doctors had. He said he doesn’t understand the diagnosis because he doesn’t see any sign of it. I was not surprised because God had given me the peace the night before of knowing his promise was coming true that next day. I can’t explain it in words fully. It was just an amazing experience.

The problem however was that I was still not offered what I thought was a proper solution to why I was going to the bathroom every half hour or so. He told me it was scar tissue, and gave me a silver bullet dilator I was supposed to use to self medicate on a daily basis (It’s exactly what you think it is). I chose not to go this route. (No pun intended)

Another doctor later confirmed he didn’t see Crohn’s either, and wanted to blast some scar tissue and I had surgery for this in December. I only felt worse after. At this point I felt like God was making it clear that it was not disease or scarring. That the system was not built correctly and I needed to have it revamped.

So in January, feeling awful but knowing I was healed and cured of disease, I googled “Crohn’s testimony miracles.” I knew that there must have been other stories like mine and that I was not the first one God cured the incurable for. What came up was a link to a you tube video (short version:  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9VEwTdOFEmA long version: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aanBqxzNLqg&feature=related) with the lead singer of a Christian band called “Sonic Flood” speaking about his healing from Crohn’s. His name is Rick Heil.

His story was almost identical to mine. He got sick as a teen, had multiple surgeries, was clinically depressed, and was at the end the rope both mentally and physically when he decided to just trust Jesus no matter what happened.

He was suggested to go to Dr. Church at the Cleveland Clinic in Cleveland Ohio. He said he felt comfort in his last name. He found out Dr. Church was a Christian and he did a surgery on him. Later Dr. Church looked in and couldn’t find any sign of Crohn’s Disease.

When I watched this video I knew it was for me, and Dr. Church in Cleveland was where I was supposed to be. Over the last few months I have fought my HMO to approve my visit and they denied me, saying I could try some more doctors’ in New York. I was initially frustrated but I had made an appointment just in case I was approved. 4 days before my appointment I found out I was denied coverage.

I was going to call to cancel because I thought the visit would be too expensive to pay out of pocket.I felt God telling me to keep the appointment. It turns out that once I got there I found it was more affordable then I thought.

On Wednesday night, 2 days before the visit with Dr. Church, I was not feeling well and had a moment of being overwhelmed. I was driving home from Syracuse and asked God to please help me through the night. The moment I asked him for help I looked up and passed "Church Street."- Confirmation of what is to come.

This past Friday Melissa and I headed to Cleveland with faith that God was going to orchestrate the whole day to his will and to my benefit. It turns out her faith was stronger than mine… A wrinkle was thrown into the day when I immediately was extra sick when we left. I wanted to turn around and cancel because I knew it was going to be a long tough ride feeling the way I did. But my diligent, selectively and aggressively directive fiancé told me that we were not turning around. She knew it was a spiritual battle that had to be won.

So we pressed on and went. It was a tough ride, having to stop every few minutes along the way. But here’s the thing-because I felt so sick I didn’t want to eat, and not eating would benefit me enormously later that day.

When we got there we waited 2 and half hours to see Dr. Church. When he walked in you could feel his humble nature immediately, and when he spoke it was only verified with his soft spoken New Zealand accent. I told him how I found him and that I was also a born again Christian.

I told him my situation and he listened intently. I told him I wouldn't be able to afford any surgery until after I get married and on my fiance's insurance in July. He decided to look in with a scope to see what was going on in my system. He did it without sedation, something that always has hurt me incredibly in the past. Somehow this time I didn't feel a thing.

It didn’t hurt at all. Missy and I had both prayed separately that it wouldn’t hurt and God answered that prayer. I had gone not planning on having a scope but prayed it would be an option. The x factor in all this was that I didn’t eat all day so he was able to see my intestine clearly.

His first words afterwards were “it is recoverable.” He explained that the pouch was built poorly. He said there is a twist that had developed up near where the small intestine meets the J-pouch, causing a narrowing of the junction, which is causing me all these problems. He also explained that the stem of the J did not stand up well, and that it just jutted out instead of folded up. He told me that the best bet is to go in and re-work the system in a major surgery.

After 10 years of searching and about 10 doctor’s, I had finally gotten an answer and a solution in just 10 minutes with Dr. Church.

He said that “You, I, and God are going to see that this gets fixed.” He also said, “You are going to be well again.” Both lines made me teary eyed on the spot.

I knew I was in the right place before I even saw this mans face. God told me and had set it up for me. But after speaking with him I knew that my life was never going to be the same. God had led me to a place and a surgeon that not only had a clue, but he also had rooted his clue in Jesus Christ. You could just tell in his voice that he knew, much like the situation with Rich Heil coming to him, that this was a divine meeting.

Non- Believers in Jesus might think that this is just another coincidence in my long line of crazy coincidences that I have written about in various blogs.However I know that once again I have been bestowed with the grace of the Lord.

So what awaits me is probable major surgery(I am thinking August 24th,revolved around a Yankee's visit to Cleveland, to make my families trip more favorable), but I am excited because I know I am at the exact place God wants me to be at. In the meantime I rejoice in knowing this particular suffering is closer to the end of its shelf life than it has ever been. I stand amazed at Jesus’ love for me, as well as his distinct realness.

The bible says to rejoice in your suffering because Christ has suffered first and it is good to be like Jesus. It also says that out of suffering will come perseverance and then character and then hope- and that hope never fails. I wouldn’t be surprised if the name of the nurse doing my surgery is indeed ‘Hope.’

I am thankful for this 2 year journey-first freed of gambling and then disease and also being given the gift of the greatest wife I could have ever asked for.

What’s really interesting is that I couldn’t have done this surgery until we got married because my insurance won’t cover it and hers will. Even if I had discovered Dr. Church earlier I wouldn’t have been able to pay for him. God’s timing is perfect. His grace is enough. His peace passes my understanding.

I write because I want to glorify God. I want non-Christians to understand that this is not religion I am experiencing-religion poisons and dictates a God who comes across as lifeless, dictating, and mundane. Religion has no living God, only figureheads who were human, died, and stayed dead.

But God is life. My blogs tell of a God who shows me he loves me so loudly and supernaturally, that I am either a chronic liar or Jesus is Lord. I hope this latest story helps confirm the realness of the need for Jesus in your lives. He is only a prayer away at all times. http://www.salvationprayer.info/prayer.html. He wants to know you and he wants to spend forever with you. It is your choice. No HMO or disease can separate you from him, and no person or thing on this earth can replace him.

I am elated that my suffering has led me to this hope I have. But I would much rather my suffering result in new hope for someone who hasn’t accepted Jesus as their God. And if doubt starts to creep into your head about all this-about who God is; or even if God is..... Just remember my new surgeon’s name... And believe.

A Letter to the Four Walls of my Church

A Letter to the Four Walls of my Church

By Joe DiBella


1-21-12:

Hello,

I am writing to let you know what you have meant to me and how deeply you have affected me over the past 25 years of our relationship. Although we have had our ups and downs over the years I realize you have always been a constant in my life, and the fluctuations in our relationship have been solely my responsibility. I wanted to write to you to sequentially thank you and point out all the nuances that I so greatly appreciate about yours and my relationship.

1986

We first met in 1986 in Bushnell’s Basin at Vacation Bible School. I was only 7 years old and don’t remember too many specifics. You know how when you're young like that you normally only have a few freeze-frame memories? Think about how many days of your childhood were spent without a single elongated memory;the only things etched from the first 10 years being a handful of freeze-frames.

My earliest freeze-frame of you was seeing a young boy in a cast who had been in a very serious car accident. I don’t remember how many casts he had on but at the very least I remember one covering his arm. I remember the concern for him and for his mother who was also involved, and was fighting for her life.

Now 25 years later I play softball with that young boy on a team you sponsor. And the woman who was fighting for her life will be at my wedding in July. The young man throws like a girl now and I wonder if that’s because his arm never properly healed from the accident. But that’s another story for another time(just kidding). Anyways, I want to thank you for introducing me to them……

1989


In 1989, you introduced me to a young kid who was about my age. At first he and I did not hit it off. Frankly, I don’t think he liked me. He was too caught up in solidifying his spot in the gang of 9 year old “cool” kids. But time after time you kept setting us up to talk and engage.

At some point I started whispering really funny things into his ear that he would repeat to the group that always would make them laugh. I was too timid to blurt out my jokes,and he of course would inaccurately get full credit for the laughs.(To his credit he was funny on his own also.)I think he liked me because he was able to capitalize on my shyness, and in turn seemed funnier to everyone than he actually was. We struck up a friendship and he blossomed into my best friend. Because of my relationship with him I chose to go to the same high school as him, where I met so many of my dearest friends and had so many of my fondest memories.

I ended up coaching basketball at the school after I graduated and had more irreplaceable memories with the kids I got to coach. I shudder to think of the good times I would have never known about without that high school, and it is all thanks to you setting me up with my best friend when I was 9. This July he will be one of the best men in my wedding.


1990


I was 10 years old and this was the year that my dad wasn’t feeling well and wasn’t able to do all the things he wanted with me. I remember you introduced me to a man who took me out go-carting and to the monster truck show. He called himself my “big brother”, which was the namesake of the outreach program he had volunteered for. “Big Brother” was an understatement, as he could stow my 90 pound body away behind one of his leg calve muscles if he needed to hide me.

He even invited me over to watch the Bills and Giants play in the Superbowl. I was the only Giants fan amongst a sea of Bills fans. He was the biggest Bills fan I knew. He didn’t even mind when I ran around his house at 10pm screaming joyous exhortations after the Giants won. I’m so glad my dad got better and I was able to indulge in so many of those activities with him after all,but I will never forget this man’s kindness to me in such a difficult time of my childhood. I am happy to say that I now tower over him in stature. While he isn’t my “big brother” anymore, he will always be my brother.


1991


I will always remember how much you looked out for my mother. You introduced her to so many mentors and friends along the way to help her in her walk with Christ. I remember one night when I was 11 years old our car battery was stolen from your parking lot during a meeting. (I remember we worried about stuff like this happening when you told us you were moving from Suburban Bushnell’s Basin where jaywalking was its most serious crime, to a troubled part of the inner-city in which murders sometimes occurred)

My mom and siblings and I were frazzled by the stealing of our battery and you sent someone to help us get home and make sure we were okay. Although I am not certain I am willing to bet you even bought us a new battery.

We were a little concerned at first that we were not safe going to your place anymore, but we remembered what you told us when you left the suburbs; that God is with us wherever we go; and that we are called to reach the ‘least of these’, and that included the poor and the needy; and that he will protect us.

You were right because 20 years later I think a stolen battery is the worst thing that has ever happened in your parking lot. So for the peace and tranquility you have brought my mother in so many situations, on top of the one mentioned above, I am eternally grateful to you. And for all the people you sent her way to befriend her, I want to thank you for introducing her to them.



1994 – What Seemed Like Forever


Ah, but times were not always so peachy keen were they? These were the years that I can not even keep track of the amount of times I loathed you. Yes, the teenage years. It was my formative years and I didn’t really want to deal with the hassle you sometimes presented with your existence. Sure I appreciated you for the Friday nights where you would provide Fizz soda, Pudgie’s Pizza, laughs, and most especially, flirting time with the young ladies. But other than that I didn’t really enjoy a lot you had to offer.

You always seemed to be waking me up way too early on weekends. And did you really have to start those meetings at 930am and have them carry on so often past the 1pm kick-off during football season? That just seemed like a bit much to me. And boy, did you send a bunch of unwanted ‘over-friendly Freddy’s and Franny's’ my way.

Everyone was always up in my face trying to hug me or ask how school was or find out how my acne treatment was coming along. And did I really need a kazoo?? I was 16 years old for crying out loud. Why did you always send over the kazoo lady??? The annoyances of being around you never seemed to end.

It just seemed like you were trying to get under my skin. This went on for what seemed like a lifetime and then something changed in me. All along it was my spirit and attitude that was causing me annoyance, not the people you put around me. Looking back I realize that those people cared about me because I meant so much to you. They thought of anyone who came to see you as their own family member, and showed interest in them as such. So I want to thank you for introducing me to them.


1997-2002

Right about when I started to reach my social comfort zone in life, I got very sick with a pooping disease. Oh,the irony! I was plagued with the most serious of digestive diseases, which hampered me in almost every aspect of life. There were nights I didn’t think I wanted to go on and nights I thought I wanted to go on but really thought my body was about to shut down and succumb.

But what I remember most about these years that felt so dark and lonely were that you always made sure I was taken care of. On my worst nights, you sent over some of your leaders to lay hands on me and pray for me. The phone calls to check up on my family and I were plentiful. Whenever I was well enough to attend your services, I was overwhelmed (in a good way) by the outpouring of interest in my condition. When I had surgery to remove my intestines, the first person who visited me when I awoke was your pastor.

Looking back, I can honestly say that besides my family, the thing that got me through those years of insufferable illness were you and the people who you sent my way. So I want to thank you for introducing me to them.


2002-2009

Okay, okay…I am ashamed to say that I went through another period where I wasn’t the biggest fan of yours. I can't blame youthful rebellion on this one. It was more adult rebellion I suppose.

See, you represented so much of the good that I wanted to see in myself, that when I thought of you or went to see you I would get upset with you because I was so far from what I knew I should be. Does that make sense? I don’t know why we run from good things. It’s kind of an oxymoron, isn’t it?

But run I did. I ran into the arms of the wrong settings and the wrong situations. I didn’t feel worthy of you. As I depicted above, you were so good to me on so many occasions, yet I still chose to have little to do with you. Sure, I would stop by and visit once in awhile just to say I did or to please my mom, but I didn’t have any interest in connecting with you. I want to apologize for that. Again, it was me and not you. Thank you for not being offended. How come you never seem to get offended??




1991-2010: The Years You Were a Failed Matchmaker

Yes, you spent 20 years trying to get me to fall in love with Ms. Right under your watch, and with all due respect you failed miserably. But what a funny, interesting journey you sent me on in the process. You introduced me to my first crush when I was 11 years old. I liked her for about 7 years and said about 7 words to her. You didn’t take your first failed matchmaker attempt as a sign to relent though, as you directly or indirectly tied me to a small handful of other relationships.

I can’t help but laugh when I realize that the only relationship I had that wasn't in part due to your scheming was the one with my future wife. While I appreciated your efforts, I eventually came to a point where my sole prerequisite for a woman was that she didn’t know you at all! I kid of course, but I thank you for your attempts and know that the journey that you led me on in this matter led me to the very good place I am in today. So thank you for lovingly introducing me to all the wrong girls over the last 20 years.


Present Day


Lastly, I want to thank you for your most recent meaning to me. I think we have been closer than we ever have these past few years. We have been through a lot you and I. We both changed our names over the years; me from ‘Joey’ to ‘Joe’, and you from ‘New Jerusalem’ to ‘Joy Community.’ Most importantly you were always willing to accept me no matter where I was in life or how I felt about you. Kindness was the most evident quality in you, and you displayed it glowingly.

So many people perceive what you represent wrongly, because so many people have twisted who you are. There is nothing religious or ritualistic about you at the core, but because of humans transforming you on the surface your true value has so often been convoluted. I mean anyone who read what I wrote about you above would be hard-pressed to call you routine or mundane.

So I must admit that it looks like I will be moving away from you in the next few months to be with my wife. I guess I won’t be seeing you as often, but I will look forward to reading your emails and such. Please do not take me off your happy birthday shout out lists or put me in parentheses in your directory (I know how you get).

But for now I am still here and want to thank you for all you have been to me. All you have been to my family;and all you have been to so many countless others. Like the God you represent, 'love' has proven to be what you set the foundation of your four walls on.

So lastly, I just want to thank you for introducing me to YOU.

Papa Joe Prattico

Papa Joe Prattico


A dear friend of mine passed away Thursday. His name was Joe Prattico. He was 79 years old, and undoubtedly the face of my church. Everyone who loved him, and that was everyone, called him “The Pa”, or “Papa Joe.” He was like a grandfather or father to so many. He was the nicest man you would ever want to know, and that is an understatement. He loved Jesus and loved people. The following is my thoughts and memories of the man. I hope whether you knew him or not this will paint a clearer picture of who he was; and through his legacy, who he will always be.

60 Years of Marriage

On December 27th 2011, Joseph Prattico celebrated his 60th wedding anniversary with his beloved wife, Carolyn, whom he so endearingly called “Goldie.” If you want to see a prototypical example of true love in marriage in a day and age where that notion is so frivolously disposed of so easily after the vows, look no further than Joe and Carolyn’s marriage.

That night, there was a party with his family and closest friends to celebrate. In his customary suit, (Papa Joe was the tannest, fittest, and snappiest dresser you have ever seen for a man in his 70’s.), he told his family how much he loved them. When he got home, before he had even changed out of his suit, Papa Joe fell down the stairs………

“There’s No Reason to Fight”

When I got engaged I remember wanting get Papa Joe’s advice on marriage more than anyone else’s. The first question I asked him was, “How do you handle a fight?” He looked at me and said,” I don’t know, we have never got in a fight,” throwing his hands up deftly as he spoke. I said, “You guys haven’t fought in 60 years?” to which he quipped back, “disagreements sure, but no fights. There’s no reason to fight.”

The way Papa Joe said it was not in the slight bit elitist. He said it in a way which seemed like the norm; as if he could not fathom why you would ever “fight” with someone you loved with all your heart.

The Only Man You Wanted Kissing Your Significant Other

Papa Joe’s trademark to the ladies was his kiss. He often ushered at church and was the first person you would see walking into the church halls. True to his Italian heritage, for over a quarter century Papa Joe would welcome the woman of Joy Community in with a kiss on the cheek. It was his trademark and one of the things so many ladies looked forward to upon entering the church.

A few years back I spoke with a young lady who had just began coming to our church a few months before. I asked her what brought her to our church. She said it was random; that she had just seen it driving by. Then I asked her what kept her coming back. She told me, “It was that Papa Joe guy’s kisses.”

The last time I saw him he kissed my fiancée Melissa on the cheek, then later went out of his way during service to come kiss her ring. Even before I knew it was the last time I would ever see him, I was thinking what a blessing it was to watch Papa Joe give his seal of approval and affirmation on our marriage with his trademark show of sincerity.

Facebook

Not many near 80 year olds could pull off joining Facebook and commenting on ‘20 something’s’ posts like Papa Joe did. Over the past few years he was evident on the social networking site with his uplifting words of encouragement, which always ended in “blessings-Papa Joe.”

I believe he was probably on the site to keep up with everyone whom he had watched grow up since they were babies. He loved every one of us like his own kin. Papa Joe and Carolyn would start every day by going through the church directory and praying for EVERY person in it. Over the years, many have come and gone through the church, but I presume Papa Joe has never stopped thinking and praying for them. I would bet that Facebook was a place where he could see the people he loved so much and speak the love of the Lord over there life.

I found it interesting that most of his writings on Facebook were in all caps. He was so softly spoken in real life and I would love to know his thinking behind the caps on Facebook. I would be willing to say it had something to do with the fact so much of his warmth was displayed through a smile or a physical touch in person, that online the only way he could get across his passion for the people’s lives in which he was typing to was by making it louder with the cap-locks on. He will certainly be missed on Facebook. He will be missed everywhere.

The “Yanks”

I had two incidents in my life where Papa Joe and I were able to really connect beyond his wrist shaking handshakes. In 1996, I was 16 and the self proclaimed biggest Yankee’s fan in the world. Papa Joe was also the self proclaimed biggest Yankees fan in the world. We used to have Wednesday and Sunday night meetings at church then and twice a week Joe would come up to me and talk about the Yankees. “Did you see the game today? Did the Yanks play this afternoon? How about them Yanks? ” He would always call them, “The Yanks.”

That year the Yankees won the World Series for the first time since before I was born. Moments after they won, Papa Joe and Carolyn called in the way so many of you have been lucky enough to hear from them over the years; with two phones; as a tandem. We congratulated each other on the season and the championship as Mrs. Prattico also commented on how fast Joe Girardi ran and how he was super fast for a catcher.

In the last 15 years Papa Joe has talked to me about the Yanks almost every time we have spoken for any duration of time. The problem was that in the year 2000 I stopped loving the team of my childhood for various reasons.

One time in the early 2000’s, upon inquiring what I thought about the upcoming season, I told Papa Joe I didn’t like the Yankees anymore. He gave me a baffled look, paused for a moment, and said “What do you mean you don’t like the Yanks anymore?” I explained to him my lament and he seemed to loosely grasp it, although he still seemed perplexed.

As the next few years went on Papa Joe continued asking me about the Yanks when he saw me. He had refused to accept my decision to abandon them. I decided for the sake of Papa Joe’s and my ‘Yank’s’ bond, I would be a Yankee fan again whenever he brought them up. After that one time, he never heard a word of Yankee disapproval out of my mouth again.

The 2 Hour Standing Conversation

In April of 2008 I had my longest talk with Papa Joe. At the Men’s retreat in Geneva we got a chance to speak one-on-one for awhile, standing in the conference room. He at 75 years and 11 months of age and me at 27 years and 8 months of age, stood there and talked for about two hours. As we stood there I remember getting tired and looking for anything to lean on, but not wanting to suggest we sit down to save my juvenescence pride.

As I was teetering back and forth well into the 2nd hour, this man stood tall and square, never wavering or looking for a chair to even lean on, no less sit on. He never took his eyes of me as I or he spoke. I had gazed at the cookies on the table behind his left shoulder at least a half a dozen times during our talk. The man was about people… the man was for people.

What I will take out of our two plus hour talk were these two things. I remember him talking more than asking questions. He rarely deferred the attention away from him getting to know you. I remember asking him question after question about himself and him gladly answering. It was refreshing to hear him converse about himself for once. He even seemed comfortable doing so.

The most striking thing he told me was thrown in so nonchalantly and unpretentiously that you would have thought he was quipping about the weather forecast. Somehow I had asked him how he started going to New Jerusalem (now Joy Community) Church. He then told me that for years he had tried to convince one of his best friends, Al Gerhardt to come to church. I said, “Years?” And he said “Yes. Al was a bit stubborn about stuff like that back then.” He said eventually he was able to convince Al to come to church.

He told me from that, a group of couples began a church out of their houses and eventually they started, New Jerusalem Church. Pastor Al Gerhardt was later Pastor of New Jerusalem Church and remained so for twenty years.

Papa Joe humbly described to me the fact that he and a few friends started this church. I remember so clearly saying to him, “Wait a minute, you are the reason we are all here???!!!!”, and Joe saying, “Well, it was the Lord really.”

I’m not sure if most of the new people in our church are aware of it or not, but Papa Joe’s relentless outpouring of his love for Jesus Christ and his desire to see his friends and loved ones come to Christ is the reason we all worship at the corner of Bay and Goodman. I shudder to think how different my life would be without that church. My best friends, my schooling, my second family, support systems, and so much of my social life, have all been spawns of Joy Community. And all along unbeknownst to me, Joe Prattico, was one of the people to thank.

“What Would Papa Joe do?”

I hope this doesn’t sound sacrilegious to any of you, but a few years ago I had come to my mom with a problem and told her how I poorly handled it and she said one of the most comically profound things anyone has ever told me. Instead of giving me advice or delving into the problem, she simply said, “What would Papa Joe do?”

The funny thing is that any other name replacing Jesus in that famous catchphrase (What Would Jesus Do?) would be seemingly absurd and feel like grounds for instant lightning strike. But the Bible instructs us to be like Jesus, and you could search the world up and down until you can’t search any longer and you would be hard pressed to find a man in the flesh who reminded you more of Jesus than Joe Prattico. The catchphrase stuck and I can honestly say that in times over the past few years when I was struggling to maintain my composure, I quietly whispered to myself, “What would Papa Joe do?”


“Papa Joe knew”

About a year ago it was suggested to me to interview Papa Joe and learn more about his life. When I asked him he said, “I don’t think I am that interesting.” I didn’t get the feeling he wanted the attention, so I didn’t interview him. A few months later I asked him again, to which he gave a similar reply. So instead of persisting, I let some more time go by.

A few weeks ago, I told him again that I wanted to interview him. This time his response was much different. He seemed eager and ready to put his life story into words for someone. He quickly remarked, “Yeah, you keep telling me that.” As if to say he was ready for me to actually do it and stop talking about it.

I had every intention in the new year of sitting down with this man of God and learning about everything he had gone through in his life. I will always regret not pushing through with it and convincing him to let me interview him. I actually wonder now if he was always intrigued to pour out his life song to me, but he was just so humble that his automatic response was to defer from the attention.

So how come on December 11th, two and a half weeks before his death he was suddenly gung ho to sit down with me? Perhaps it was because in November he had fallen and broken some ribs and was more aware of the precious gift and fragility of life, especially as we grow older. But I remember his sudden eagerness for me to interview him to be both exciting and concerning.

What I am about to tell you might seem strange and I can’t decipher why I got this premonition in a dream:

Joe fell this past Tuesday night and on Wednesday morning before I woke up, or knew anything had happened, I vividly remember dreaming in words. The words were, “Pray for the Prattico’s”, and “Papa Joe knew.”

When I awoke after the dream I checked my email to see Papa Joe had fallen and been taken to the hospital with broken ribs and was being rushed into surgery with bleeding on his brain. Papa Joe succumbed to his injuries the next day, Thursday December 29th.

I couldn’t believe I had dreamt those words without knowing anything was wrong. I was wondering what the words of my dream meant and why they were shown to me in a dream. Maybe it was to encourage me to write in spite of being disappointed in myself for not interviewing him when I had the chance. But here is the best way I can define what "Papa Joe knew" means to me:

I think what “Papa Joe knew…” means is actually an incomplete sentence or statement that all of us can complete in our own personalized way. My statement would finish with Papa Joe knew how to make you feel like the most important person in the room, no matter who you were or where you were in life. He knew how to love you greater than anyone who wasn’t required, per blood relation, to do so. He left you asking yourself, “Wait a minute, is he really my biological Grandfather and nobody is telling me? Why does he care so much?”

Papa Joe knew how to make you feel like even your story about trying to pick out a pair of shoes to wear that morning was worthwhile. You would never catch Papa Joe looking over your shoulder at his surroundings as he spoke with you; a focus trait so many of us don’t have. Basically he made you feel special because you were special to him….. Papa Joe just knew.

“I miss the man”

I had a CD of Papa Joe talking about how much he loved Pastor Al, which was recorded shortly after Al’s death in 2004. On that CD Papa Joe got teary eyed and choked up and said, “I miss the man. But I know I will see him again one day. And I am looking forward to it.” I remember listening to it and thinking I rue the day we are all saying the exact same thing about Papa Joe.

Farewell, but not Goodbye

The way he died seemed so unfair to me until I began to hear the details. At first, I thought he fell the day before his 60th anniversary only to find out it was the day of.

He got to celebrate 60 years of marriage with his sweetheart, he got to wear his coveted suit, and he got to tell his family how much he loved them, moments before he fell.

I wondered why we didn’t get any warning. Why was he just gone? And then my sister told me that it would have been too hard for us to watch him grow old and weak; or to watch him suffer. And as hard as it would have been for us to watch, it would have been equally hard for Papa Joe to live it himself. He would not have liked “getting old.” He was too vibrant, too zestful, and just too plain good to suffer from getting old.

The Lord knew exactly the right time. There was no way he was taking him before his 60th wedding anniversary. There was no way he was not letting a suit be the last outfit he slipped into, and no way he was letting him go out in any other way but celebratory and dignified.

In the words of Papa Joe himself, “I miss the man. But I know I will see him again one day. And I am looking forward to it.”

Because above all else,Papa Joe knew the way to heaven.

Silent Night

Moments ago I heard a sound that was all too familiar to me in the past. It represented incurable disease and hopelessness, and for a second just now it tried to represent that same thing it used to.

I am at my fiance's and her family and I had plans to spend the day out and about doing things you do on Christmas Eve. I had surgery Tuesday to laser remove massive amounts of scar tissue that allegedly have been causing my digestive system to be stymied.

Since the surgery, instead of the optimal opening of my system, it has closed to the point where as of last night it is not sustainable without copious amounts of prune juice.

This morning I have been up all night dealing with the results of the only viable option to move my system. Due to the current problem, I told Melissa I would be heading home this morning and not joining them out. As I lay in bed I heard the sounds of people busy to get ready to go somewhere. Keys jingling, plates clattering, feet pattering. It was alot of loud noise, the sound of ensuing plans being hashed out and brought to fruition.

See I spent alot of years in a basement, exhaustingly ill, with my family on the floors above me. Somehow the sounds of noise for a special day always resonated differently then the sound of noise on a mundane workday.

It was always the worst feeling when on one of those days where something important was going on,suddenly the noise stopped. The door would slam, the house would creak, and boom they were gone. It was so symbolic of being left behind;the world continuing while you were left fighting illness by yourself. You were indeed missing another life event.

Today when the feet stopped moving and the silence permeated the house, Satan wanted so badly to remind me of how awful that silence was. That is when I decided to write this blog.

I have been preparing a blog for a month trying to explain exactly what led up to me being healed of Crohn's Disease. I have a draft with the details of every encounter, every word spoken over me, every rough patch, and every doctor that said " It's Crohn's," to the last 2 doctors that said, " I don't understand why any doctor ever told you it was Crohn's." Instead I felt God telling me to write this up real fast and publish it. There is someone who needs to hear it. Someone who needs to know that the silence is not always hope lost.

I don't know why my first Christmas Eve with Melissa is going to be spent apart from her. I don't know why I have gotten sicker before I have gotten better. I don't know God's plan. But I know how it all ends. Maybe I have to suffer today to end up somewhere 27.4 years from now, that I could have not have gotten to without this specific circumstance.

Yesterday I scolded God. I told him that being ill on Christmas was not cool. Not after what I have gone through. I started to explain to him what I had been through, as though he didn't understand without my explanation. He quickly reminded me of the miracles he has done in my life; the absolute, concrete,stone cold miracles. He reminded me that I needed to understand that I don't need to understand what's currently happening.


I have been healed and only suffer in the temporal for a greater purpose; For the Glory of my Lord and savior Jesus Christ.(Tebow!!!!!!) I know this is going to pass soon. I pray even today that things would turn around for Christmas Day.


In the bible it says that we should rejoice in our suffering. From suffering comes perseverence , then character, then hope; and hope, the greatest of these, never fails.

I can humbly say that I always assumed once you reached hope that suffering was long behind it. All of those times where the house fell silent after a long rumbling, I was sure I was many steps away from hope. I couldn't wait until my creating noise was part of the fray on a special day; a hope fulfilled.


Today that scuttlebutt left me behind in the utter silence again, just like those years ago where the silence represented hopeless suffering. But today, knowing what I know now of Jesus and 'holy cow', knowing what he has shown me since the last time the house went silent.., Today that sound of silence is a silent sound of hope.

And now that I think about it, I guess it always was.

Addendum: I knew before I wrote this that it was for someone else. That it was God telling me to do it to help someone. I got confirmation of that after I posted it. Also, I wanted to be clear that this was not meant to be a downer or depressing. I was writing in a darker way yes, but with the ultimate message being I am excited and hopeful and know God has a detailed plan here for me health wise. Sorry if it came across as 'woe is me.' Lastly, after I typed this I felt God asking me to stay in Syracuse and I did and it was a good decision. Thanks for reading. Merry Christmas.