Category Archives: Multiple Sclerosis
The Woman in Room Number Three by Karen Brown
Jesus I asked, would You please make me well, so I can find a new place to dwell,
Could You please heal my body, show me the way, I’m willing to do whatever You say.
Jesus I asked, could I just use one arm, this alone would work like a charm
To give me a life with so much less strife.
Oh Jesus, I asked, could You help me today to realize Your power in a whole new way?
Then Jesus responded, He answered me sure, showing me something I’d not seen before…
“My child I love you more than you know, and I’ve called you to be where no one will go,
In a place where I want My presence to show;
You see when you gave Me your life on that wonderful day,
I already had you walking the way that would reach those people who I wanted to touch;
How else will they know that I love them so much?
So smile your smile,
let them see My Life,
shown glowing in the midst of your strife;
And Oh My Child, you will very soon see, that you’ll be dancing with Me… for eternity.”
Thank you so much for giving your permission to share, author Karen Brown, and a special thank you to Nancy Belz.
March is Multiple Sclerosis Awareness Month. Since many chronic illness symptoms can mimic MS, and since MS is completely different in everyone with the disease, the people suffering can get lost behind the vague name. This courageous young woman, blogger, and MS survivor shares about the “unforgettable” week of her diagnosis. She puts a very clear face on such a foggy disorder- thank you for reading for better understanding.
12 years ago today, October 20th 2002, I woke up, went to the kitchen in my pajamas, Sunday morning, made breakfast, went to the living room while eating it, flipped the pages of a magazine, got up again, put the mug and plate in the kitchen sink – and then everything went black. I have a very faint recollection of feeling dizzy and nauseous but I don’t remember any more. I know I walked three or four steps because I was found on the floor by the kitchen door. On the wall there was a mark my fingers made possibly when I was trying to hold on to it not to fall. But I don’t remember. No one knows how much time I was out. My left knee and arm were bruised, and so was my head.
The story they told me was that my grandfather, who was living with…
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