faith

i don't like to write about my faith too much, especially in this blog format. i am not ashamed about what i believe but i think faith is such a personal subject. i am a christian. i believe in the holy trinity--the father, son and holy ghost. but i respect everybody's right to believe what they want. and i am put off by those who judge anyone's faith. those who exclude. those who profit from religion. to me, the worst sinners are those religious leaders who manipulate the masses to line their own purses. shame on them.

i have been struggling through some medical issues lately that i worried were related to my brain disease. i know this is a catastrophic illness with no cure. but i feel that way about life....nobody escapes alive. that stranger who pities my sca may die next week in a car wreck.....life is like that. unpredictable.

anyway, i went to bed this past sunday on the verge of hysterics. i couldn't seem to get enough oxygen. i used the oxygen machine, which i normally need at night....but i suddenly faced the possibility that my ataxia had rendered my breathing damaged to the point where i would need assistance 24/7.  good grief. and my anxiety had crazy thoughts racing in my head....things like 'i would rather be dead than to live struggling for air.'  who thinks this way?  not me.

i am 57 and i can count on one hand the times i have truly been terrified. the first? i am 9 years old and diving off a platform in the ocean. i swim and swim but i suddenly touch sand. somehow i've gotten twisted around and  i have swum to the bottom by mistake. now i  head to the surface. i make it...barely. i am choking, gasping, panicking....but i am alive. the second? my son, neal, bites into an extension cord....the electrical shock stuns him. luckily, my sister, cheryl, is there and we race to the emergency room. i am hysterical.  neal still has that tiny scar in the corner of his mouth and i still have nightmares. the third? neal again. no longer a toddler, maybe 4 years old. we are at the rutland fair and i take him into the fun house. we are struggling through the maze of mirrors when i can smell smoke. people start crying and screaming, there is a sense of chaos, but i manage to find the exit while a fire erupts in the fun house. the fourth? megan is a girl scout and we are at a jamboree on the perdanales river in austin, camping. it is after midnight and another little camper wakes me and informs me that megan is missing from her cot. we are on the ledges above the river. i cannot breathe, i am so frightened. i begin calling for megan and i race, barefoot, into the cactus-laden wilderness. i find my daughter, who has wandered away while sleep walking, in a neighbouring abandoned site.

what sustained me? prayer. not a 'give me what i want' but  a very simple 'help me.'  and i remembered this the other night...and i prayed again....i discovered on tuesday that my breathing troubles are not ataxia related. skeptics will say it was the randomness of life. but i know, in my heart, that God was listening...like he always does.