I’ve been feeling horrible non-stop for two weeks now but I was determined to make it to church this morning. And I did.
I looked bad. I felt bad. The young man sitting beside me kept glancing at me and after church informed me (and everyone standing around) that he thought I was going to pass out several times during the service. Of course, he also thought I fell asleep several times when in reality I was just sitting with my head bowed, eyes closed attempting to reach deep inside me to pull up some strength.
And then my Pastor called me to the front of the church, I was annointed with oil, laid hands on and prayed over.
Healing. Believing the LORD would heal my body if it be His will.
And in the midst of that time of prayer I couldn’t help but feel the love of my church family enveloping me. I may have been away for a week and a half, but I was missed and I was loved. I am loved.