Dealt with

Posted on March 25th, 2010 by Cam.
Categories: Let's talk.

The situation with the presence in the house has been dealt with.

After the incident with being pinned to the bed the other night, I haven’t been in the house much.  I went to York one night to do some silver work, so didn’t get back down to the house until yesterday afternoon.  I invited my pastor Grant and brother-in-law Michael over to help pray through the house, to basically tell any presence it was time to go.

While we were praying up in the upstairs bedroom, where the incident happened, Michael had the sense that there was something that needed to be removed from the house.  He went over to a storage compartment in the roof and pulled out some bags of stuff.  It all belonged to the previous tenants (of which there were many, as it was used for short term accommodation).  In amongst the collection were two bags, both had the faces of demons on them.  They looked like showbags basically, but nothing fun about them.  So we took them outside and put them in the bin.

Once that was done, the house seemed to be free of any bad presence, and I got a great night sleep last night. Make of that what you will, but I have seen enough stuff to know that this stuff is for real, and needs dealing with when encountered.  Done.

Off to see Dr Brad tomorrow.  This consult is a biggie.  I get the results back from my bloods and 24 hour urine test (relax, its not continual, you are allowed to have a break).  I am not sure how I am going to deal with whatever result I get.  I have been getting my hopes up in some respects that I am getting better, hoping God has been tending to things while I have been praying specifically in the last month or so.  But my body doesn’t feel any different.  I feel like a broken spirit carrying around a heavy broken carcass.

It literally feels like there is not only a quality of life, but a quantity.  The saying ‘He is full of life’ seems to ring true in the sense that life feels like it can come in degrees.  At the moment, I feel like I only have about 20% of life in me, I am mostly dead, but the 20% keeps me looking alive, insists on air filling my lungs, commands the heart to keep beating and mind to function as best it can.

The other 80% is dead, but revivable (flashback to “The Princess Bride” where Billy Chrystal’s character informs Mantoya that the Westley is only ‘mostly dead’).  I have often thought that it is the Doctor’s task to keep me alive, but it is God’s task to heal me.  There maybe a crossover point that comes soon, or it may not.  But that 20% is hell hard to maintain, I tell you.

Click here for \”Mostly Dead\”

Tomorrow’s discussion will lead to some big decisions.  These decisions involve choosing lines of treatment that carry different degrees of risk and different levels of life-quality.  An aspect of the decision making process involves the question ‘when is enough enough?’.  If it came down to a purely physical decision, the answer would be to just keep on going until the body can’t take any more treatment.  My mind in it’s current state, however, has to work hard to choose life.  It needs to go against what it ‘feels’ like doing, believing that the current situation will pass and the future holds what is hoped for.

But then again, reflecting back on life, many significant hopes have not come to fruition.  In fact, they have ended up in catastrophe.  This is where the battle lies.  I hold onto hope, knowing full well that my situation may not get any better, that I may not see those hopes turn out.  I know that any hope I place in earthly things or broken people is not guaranteed.  They still remain as hopes, but I have learned the hard way that things don’t often turn out how we had hoped.  Sometimes, it is the most precious of our hopes that don’t turn out.  When our foundations have been based on hopes that don’t come to fruition, then we are up a small guano tributary without a wooden implement fashioned for watercraft propulsion.

What then?  Well, a re-establishment of hopes need to be made, but ones that are base on something solid, something certain, something Christlike.  The only thing that I hope for at the moment is for my body and mind to be healed.  There is no valid reason to continue whilst the discomfort of both of these elements undermine every good thing available in this life.  This sayeth the despondent heart.

The heart that goes completely against what the body and mind desire says to keep on going, squeeze every hour out of every day, make the body walk past its muscle ache, make the mind think it is alive again.

At this point in my life, I am unpacking boxes for the forth or fifth time over a year or so.  Each time I wonder, is this worth it?  Is it worth unpacking belongings.  If so, for what?  So that I can pack them up again soon, or worse, so that someone else must pack them up?

I keep getting told that this time will pass.  Yes, of course it will pass – it is time, and thats what time has always done, and always will do – it passes.  The outcome, however, is beyond any person’s knowledge and certainly beyond any guarantee.

At the moment, each hope I hear gets filed under ‘M’ for “Maybe, Maybe Not”.

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