Celebrating My Healing

He heals the brokenhearted,

And binds up their wounds.

--Psa. 147:3

Five years ago today I watched helplessly as my almost-three-year-old granddaughter, the light of my life, died. That day the sun went out for me.

The first year I was numb. I couldn't feel any emotions at all. The second year God gave me peace as I came to understand the wisdom of God's plan in taking Madeline home to dance with the angels, forever free from pain.

But peace and healing are two different things, and healing didn't come, although I often cried out for it as I prayed the Psalm that says, "He heals the brokenhearted, and binds up their wounds."

God is amazingly creative in how he fulfills his word, and he did it for me through a special family that he sent to FBC, whom I call "the E's." (If my English teacher daughter reads this, I know there's not an apostrophe there, but it looks better with one.)

The E's, each doing a different important work of grace, brought me God's healing. I can't explain it, I just live in the joy of it.

In an hour Joe and I will pile in the E's van for another dinner together, this time at The Grapevine in Paris.

And as we are celebrating Mark's birthday, I will also be celebrating my healing, for God truly has healed my broken heart and bound up my wounds.

To God be the glory!