God dropped this song into my life almost 20 years ago as I was driving home from work. I remember driving down the 101 with tears streaming down my cheeks, wondering why I had such a strong reaction. Just a few hours later, my father-in-law called with the news that my brother-in-law, Matt, had committed suicide. During one of the darkest seasons of our lives, this song became the cry of my heart.
Through the years, as various trials have come my way, this song gently reminds me that I am not alone–even in the valleys. From financial trials to health issues to losing friends and loved ones, I “cling to the promise He’s not through with me yet.”
And now, I find myself clinging to this promise once again as I walk through another valley. Years ago, I was diagnosed with polycystic kidney disease. But during a youth camp, a pastor I didn’t know declared over me that my “disease is broken.” After Josyan was born, I had tests run and was told that I would never need dialysis or a kidney transplant. Miraculously, after three children, my kidneys were still at 100%.
But four years ago, after an emergency c-section to deliver Hudson three weeks early, I spent 9 days in the hospital as doctors tried to figure out why my blood pressure wouldn’t come down. I was eventually diagnosed with stage 3 kidney failure. However, the doctor said we wouldn’t really know where my kidneys ended up until after all the pregnancy hormones were gone. So I waited and believed…and felt better.
But, about two years ago, I went in for bloodwork and learned that my kidney function was down to 17%. My doctor recommended me that I begin the transplant process at Mayo Clinic.
In July, I finally completed all the requirements and was added to the list. I have to say that I’ve been walking this road kicking and screaming. I don’t want to be sick. I don’t feel sick. I don’t want to walk this path. But this is where I am.
I continue to hope and pray and believe for the miraculous impossible healing. I would so much rather have that joyous testimony than walk through this valley–major surgery, being away from home for a minimum of six weeks, medication for the rest of my life. But I will walk through this valley if He wants me to. I know that His purposes are greater than mine. And if He will be glorified more in my walk through the valley than in a miracle, so be it.
Karen