Prayer for Healing

Oh Lord. How much longer?

I've just pulled off the bandage to expose an arm of itchy, inflamed skin. The inside of my top is splattered with blood. My entire epidermis is so fragile that two small rakes of my fingers to relieve the endless irritation causes blood to either ooze out or spurt out. Then my skin dries up because of the blood and the scratches and it feels like parchment being stretched.

My shoulder is so raw from hand foot and mouth that I can't put anything on it without a bandage. My back is bleeding and Lord, I can't see.
I took the liberty to wear an ankle length - more like floor length - skirt today with no socks.

And Lord, my legs are now a mass of inflamed, swollen bleeding red flesh. Burning so bad I could cry. And have.

Lord.

I asked You to use this for Your glory. Then show me how.

Patience through pain, physical and emotional?

I'm guessin' You know all this. You know what it feels like, far, far more, to be splattered and stinking of blood. To have people not wanting to be around you, not just cause you don't look fashionable and classy, but because you're...disgusting. You know the pain of torn skin, the burning, the jerks of pain, the icy sharp stabs of it. The ingenuity of trying to find a new position to a) let the air get to it, b) not let the cold air get to it, c) not to keep it too warm, d) not to let material touch it, e) try and prevent the blood from back, arms, legs....touch...anything...levitation? The horrible feeling as you see the keys go white and dusty from all the skin dropping off, and the mounds of it on your clothes... *shudders*

Oh God, even Job didn't last forever, and this has been eight months and the thought of it getting all worse again after June is making me cringe...this cold, cold country.

Lord, see my tears...

I want to beg and demand and sit here and cry until You heal me. I want to remind You that it feels terrible being an outcast without being a leper on top.

But You know all of this. You've lived it. To a greater extreme than I ever could.

So You've given me this trial.

So You're waiting for me to use it.

Use it - how? Simply through tears and crying and helpless little blog posts like this? (And there goes another drop of blood on my quilt...great.) Simply by smiling bravely at work when people say how brave I'm being and tell them it could be worse - at least You've spared me my face?

Because if that's what You want, then I will. Show me how to do it so it glorifies You the best way I can.

Because You have granted me mercy. You have spared my face.

And I can't tell You how grateful I am.

Father, I deserve nothing. I don't even deserve that mercy. So I'm asking - Please. Don't. Let. This. Pain. Be. For. Nothing. I'm asking for mercy again. And I'm asking that please, Father God, please, when Your time is full - please don't let me be like Lazarus with the dogs licking his sores for the rest of my life. (And thank You that it's not that bad!)

But if that's what You choose - then help me to praise You.

And please make the washing easier on Mom. :P


In Jesus' Name,

Amen.