Dark Clouds Gather 'Round Me; I have NOT Left You

I recently stumbled on an old country blue grass song, Wayfaring Stranger. I first heard it played by the Norwegian group Hayde Bluegrass Orchestra. I love the song. ( Hayde Bluegrass )

Part of the song has the following words:

"I'm just a poor wayfaring stranger
Traveling through this world below
There is no sickness, no toil, nor danger
In that bright land to which I go...

I know dark clouds will gather 'round me
I know my way is hard and steep
But beauteous fields arise before me
Where God's redeemed, their vigils keep…"

For the last year, more than a year, my life has been as dark as it has been in a long time. After facing the excruciating pain that I had with the bleeding ulcer, the despair of being told by medical provider after medical provider that there was nothing that could be done, there was no hope, no chance for a different life... This, much like today's coronavirus, was the "new normal", I was to accept that my life was agony, unrelenting agony. This, was my normal. I lost hope, all hope, as never before in my entire, albeit short, life.

Even after the ulcer was discovered, and my life got somewhat better, hope did not return. It was stolen from me. The constant mourning of not living the life that other women my age are living is very destructive.

This last week has been a dreadful week for me. I saw a cataract surgeon, to deal with the heavy cataract I have in one eye caused by the eye drops I have used to prevent the total destruction of my eyesight. The cataract is better than the retinal destruction that is a possibility from the disease processes I am dealing with.

However, the surgeon stated that, at my age, there is a normal fluid shift in the eye. The fluid near the retina "hardens" and pulls away from the retina, leading to a slightly increased "normal" retinal detachment risk. However, the removal of the natural lens means a removal of fluid, which could or could not pull even more on the retina, risking the detachment.
The idea that not doing the surgery means I could go blind by the cloudiness of the cataract, or go blind from retinal detachment floored me into shock. I was unable to even ask any questions of the surgeon that day, or indeed even discuss it with my family, which is not normal for me in my care.

I already am trying a new RA medication, and not certain whether it is a good match for me. I already feel that whatever choice I make is the wrong one, as it generally has been.

What little hope I had left flooded out of me that moment. Hopelessly hopeless, I cried in despair. I was giving up, figuring it didn't matter what I did, I would be blind, I would be miserable. The truth seemed all too clear.

Without knowing it, my mother asked for prayer from the church I attend when I feel well enough to try to go to church that night.

The next day, I spent in bed, sick from the medication, sick with hopelessness, sick with worry and fears. I waited to hear from the surgeon, who I called in confusion.

I was left alone for about 30 minutes while my family ran an errand. I was in the house, tears streaming down my face, feeling so useless, hopeless and depressed. Why bother with trying, when it doesn't matter? I try and try and things get no better, no easier. I'll go blind, have some other horrible thing happen to me. I am so sick of trying and nothing ever getting better or easier. 

I was suddenly half thinking that God had abandoned me, left me alone to face this dreadful world, the horrible health issues that keep piling on me with out lending me any strength or peace.

I suddenly felt this great, encircling presence, fully enveloping me---more so than any other experience of closeness I have had. Compassion, comfort, an embrace of kind emotions, a caress of God touched me. Calmness descended on me as if a cloak.
A thought flashed through my mind, the tone was not  one of disappointment, nor anger, nor shame or scolding, but of gentle compassion, peace, love and truth; a reminder. Hope itself flamed into a warm fire, warming the soul.

"I have NOT left you. You are not alone."

It has changed my life since that day. Hope itself has perhaps changed to a...great patience, unconcern over the issues in my life. The ability to think about handling the problems I face, and that they don't matter in the least.

What matters is holding on to the hand reaching out to you, to pull you back onto the racetrack. I keep telling God that I am so tired, but He keeps reminding me, "Yes, but only a few more yards to go."

I don't see the end of that race I am running. But at least I am not running it alone. God is running it with me, never letting go of my hand.

⁷ And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.
Philippians 4 (  ESV ).

The Lord himself goes before you and will be with you; he will never leave you nor forsake you. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged.” Deut 31 (  NIV )