In 1999, I was diagnosed with a rare disorder of the esophagus called achalasia.

For you non-medical folks (like me), this is a disorder where the muscle in my esophagus responsible for opening and closing when I eat (it’s called a sphincter muscle…teehee…) stopped working.

Completely.

As in, everything I ate came back up…  Yuck.

Laparoscopic surgery in the summer of 1999 corrected the problem, but the “cure” was really just an incision across the non-functioning muscle to allow food to pass by.  Since I was so young, 22 at the time, doctors said the chances of the surgery permanently correcting the problem were small.  Their warning turned out to be prophetic.

 

After my weight loss surgery in 2009, my achalasia relapsed in a colossal way.  This time, though, there would be no “simple” fix.  Scar tissue now blanketed the incision site from the previous surgery and a simple laparoscopic procedure was out of the question.

My options?  A permanent feeding tube, or surgery at Mayo Clinic with an incision going from my belly button to my throat.  Not quite the options a young Mama wanted to hear.

When my highly respected specialist at The University of Kentucky shared the “chance” that I wouldn’t survive such an invasive surgery, I shut down.

I was 33 years old…

My daughter was in kindergarten…

My marriage was thriving…

My career?  On-fire…

Simply put, I wasn’t ready to die.

My successful weight loss surgery FINALLY offered the chance of a normal life.  I simply didn’t have time for complications.

Instead of turning to God with my weariness and confusion, I did what I had warned others in times of difficulty not to do.  I turned my face away from The Light and let the darkness of anger and bitterness to envelope me.

I continually asked Him, “Why me, Lord?” and became infuriated when I heard His still small voice answer over and over again, “Why NOT you, Amy?”

Everything seemed so unjust and so unfair.  My life was a life of morality and service to my heavenly Father.  The normal “sinfully fun times,” of my teens and twenties were sacrificed for a life of chastity and self- control.  My desired reward?  A life free from heartache and discord, of course!  In my naive mind, I deserved…big gulp…better than a life threatening illness!

Just a little pious and self-righteous, huh?

Humility wasn’t and still isn’t my strong suit.

I am so thankful that God used this time in my life to prune the weeds of my arrogance.  The gift of time has revealed a gentle but unmistakable truth.   My obedience to God does NOT spare me from the pains of this world, nor does it make me more loved by my Savior.  My obedience shows my love for Him, and not the other way around.

In spite of my secret anger, doubt and unbelief, selfless and unknowing prayers rose on my behalf from every corner of this country.

Strangers stopped me on the street just to let me know I was on their church’s prayer list.  Friends gathered in intercessory prayer for me.

I wanted to have hope, but instead I let despair overpower me.

The day of all consuming darkness came when I visited my grandmother’s burial spot and looked out across the lush green cemetery with eyes that no longer looked at the past but at my future.   A future …here…in a graveyard.  I can still remember the hopelessness of that moment and the loneliness I felt.

(Happy ending inserted here 😊)

On the last of what seemed like never ending procedures at UK before heading off to surgery in Minnesota, I was told to eat radio active eggs while they took a picture of them going through my esophagus.

It was almost comical that they were asking me to eat eggs, highly porous and spongy eggs, considering by this point, I was on a mostly liquid diet.  The only way I got any solid food down was to take a nitroglycerin pill that stimulated the muscle in my throat just long enough to get the food down.  Eggs were one of the hardest foods to eat and my body always rejected them.

But hey, I decided to humor them, knowing they would come right back up.  By this point, I was 100% defeated.

I swallowed my first bite there in the sterile medical room at UK and felt no pain.  A fluke, no doubt.

Then another bite went down, and another and another until all the eggs were gone.  Weird!

The next day, my doctor called with the news I already knew but didn’t dare articulate.  My esophagus was completely open and there was no reason to go to Minnesota to the Mayo Clinic.

I was 100% completely healed.  They could find NOTHING wrong.

The doctors’ explanation?  [Insert snoody, hyper educated doctor voice here:]  “Your body has experienced trauma after weight loss surgery but now the trauma has disappeared and your body has returned to normal.”

“So, let me see if I understand this, doc…  You are telling me that this trauma that I have experienced for six months now just spontaneously ended on the exact day of my last test before heading out of state to discuss major surgery that I might not survive?  Nope. Not buying it.  It’s a miracle.  Plain and simple.”

From that moment on, life changed.  TRULY the sky was bluer, the flowers smelled sweeter, and I noticed the smallest joys in everyday life that I simply overlooked before.

I can’t really describe what it’s like to be on death’s door and then literally have God reach down and heal you, but what I can say is that it changed me and everyone around me in immeasurable ways.

My healing was divine.

It was intentional.

It was personal.

And it was unexplainable to the scientific world outside the grace and mercy of Jesus Christ Himself.

Sometimes on my darkest days, (and trust me I still have them) I go back to those moments in 2009 and the miracle I received.  Life has been hard since then.  Really hard.  And I still at times find myself asking why bad things continue to happen.  But none of that really matters.

 

Life, no matter how crappy it can sometimes be, is a gift; a precious precious gift.

I remember during this time praying with all my heart that I would live long enough to see my daughter grow up.  There were times when this seemed impossible, but here I am in 2018 with Addison entering high school as a freshman in the fall.

God is good, all the time.  And all the time, God is good.

But what if this hadn’t been the result?

Even if things had turned out differently…

He would be no less good, no less merciful and no less loving.

God would still be on His throne and would still be everything He is to me now.

He used this moment in my life to teach me about who He is and to strengthen my faith for hard, hard days that were to come.

Now, all these years later, the world is still new to me.  And in this new world, I see it all through new eyes; eyes of gratitude and thankfulness.

Eyes that will never forget the miracles they have seen or the One who gave them.