Diane Williams: Angels in Action: Stories to Inspire

Eventually, I stood to go home, but my head spun and my eyes blurred. I thought my new contacts needed adjusting. Finally, I reached the restroom and cleaned my lenses, but my sight was still blurry. Then, I remembered reading about how lemons cleansed the system. Luckily, the produce market was next door. When I got to the store, I went straight for the produce. I picked up a lemon and carried it to the clerk, remarking about its size. It was huge. The clerk shook his head and told me it was a grapefruit. Then he pointed me in the direction of the lemons. I bumped into the lemons and knocked them over, spilling them all over the floor. The clerk approached me, asking if I was okay. I nodded, and he handed me a bag of lemons and ushered me away.

My head felt like someone was dancing on it. I returned to the agency to eat a lemon and rest before driving home, but the pounding was furious, a rapid fire of drumbeats. I couldn’t sleep. I was miserable. Finally, I phoned Jared and spilled out my heart about today’s drinking.

“Ha!” he laughed aloud. “You’re drunk.” He smirked at me under his breath, “Isn’t this funny? My wife the nondrinker wants her alcoholic husband to pick her up.”

In between his hilarious laughter, he assured me he was on his way. I hung up and laid my head on the desk, closed my eyes and begged for sleep, but my head kept pounding.

After an hour and a half, Jared arrived. He held me close as we walked to the car. On the ride home, Jared told me that alcohol coupled with not eating goes straight to the head. He assured me that I would be all right as soon as I ate. He stopped at White Castle and ordered some cheeseburgers. At home, Jared helped me into bed and tucked me in. I promised him I would never criticize him about his drinking ever again and then drifted off to sleep.

Early the next morning I awoke and there was no more drumming on my head, but my eyes were still blurry. Jared drove me to the eye doctor. I was immediately taken into the examination room. I explained about the blurriness. The doctor looked into my eyes and said, “My, my, my, someone had a fun party last night.” He immediately popped out my contacts and switched them around; placing the right lens over the right eye and the left lens over the left eye. Just as quickly as my blurriness disappeared, so did the shoes I was saving for when the doctor said, “That will be seventy-five dollars, please.”

I went home, pulled my Bible off the shelf, and sat alone quietly at the kitchen table reading Psalms. I reflected on this verse: “Whoever dwells in the shelter of the Most High will rest in the shadow of the Almighty” (Psalm 91:1).

My real issue became abundantly clear. I had sabotaged myself under the false belief that I needed approval from my co-workers. So, did my colleagues accept me? Of course not! They had not seen the real me. I had buried myself with alcoholic beverages. My colleagues had seen a lie, a misrepresentation of myself all because I hadn’t accepted myself. I was a frightened young lady, so fearful of being worthy, of graduating to a life of adult responsibilities; a life I had no previous experience with. My self-esteem was so low; I craved approval from a bunch of strangers. All my insecurities had been on display for them to see.

It was ironic that I inflicted all this suffering on myself to avoid rejection. Yet, I had rejected the most important person in the world—myself! I realized I had no power; God was my source, and He made me perfect the way I am. I didn’t need to drink to fit in. Some people drink and some do not. We are “His treasured possession,” says Deuteronomy 7:6. Learning to forgive and to accept one’s self is the greatest compliment or gift an individual can give to their Creator.

Reflection: Go within andACCEPT YOURSELF...therein lies your power. To accept yourself is to honor God. He made us for his purpose.

“Heh...heh…” is the crying sound that jolts me awake. I struggle, using my mouth, elbows, and hips to remove my sheet; and then, leaning on the headboard, I manage to stand.

“Neh...neh…neh,” my three-month-old baby begins a hysterical cry.

“Move, leg, move!” I shout, dragging one foot at a time. I limp as quickly as I can toward her crib on the opposite side of the room. Fifteen minutes later, I reach my beautiful baby girl. I look into her tear-filled brown eyes and whisper, “I love you.”

At the tender age of twenty-six, I had given birth to my first child. My health was failing due to rheumatoid arthritis. Even though I took one medication after another, the doctors had given me no hope. My feet were swollen to the size of bowling balls.

I spent every day in excruciating pain, and relentless hours pleading, negotiating, and praying, “Lord, please remove this dreaded disease from my body. My baby needs me.” I believed my daily pain would have to leave me some way. The more I thought of my daughter, the more I had to believe there was a prescription for change. In the midst of my thoughts came a knock at the door. I didn’t answer it, hoping they would go away. The knocking continued, so finally I responded, “Who is it?”

“Jehovah’s Witnesses.”

My impulse was to tell her to go away. Instead I found myself saying, “Wait a minute. I’ll be right there.” It took me a long while to drag my feet to the door. I held the door ajar and there stood a well-groomed, middle-aged woman with an attaché case in her hand.

“Hi, my name is Helen. I am a Jehovah’s Witness, and I was sent to your neighborhood to talk to you about the things of God. May I come in?” She had such a jubilant manner, if it had been any other Jehovah’s Witness I would have declined. Her smile and cheerful introduction put me at ease.

“Come in and have a seat. I’m Diane,” I said.

“You have a very lovely home,” she remarked moving through the front door. I nodded with appreciation. As I closed the door and slowly limped to the living room, Helen’s eyes followed me. When our eyes met, she inquired about my limp.

“I don’t mean to be nosy, Diane, but it took you quite a while to answer the door. What’s wrong, honey?”

“Rheumatoid arthritis,” I responded.

Helen walked over, put her hands on mine, and, looking into my eyes, replied, “God is a healer, and He heals His people.” I sighed deeply before I ticked off the long list of remedies I had tried and the disease had only exacerbated.

“Have you tried God?”

I stuttered. “Um…”

“Do you know the Lord, Diane?”

“No.”

“Would you like to know the Lord?”

“Yes, I guess so.”

“I can teach you about God and His healing power.” Helen had my full attention. I listened intently, hanging on to every word she spoke. “God can deliver you from this dreaded disease called arthritis.”

Helen gave me a brief overview of the Old and New Testaments, telling me to focus on the New Testament because it gives an account of God’s healing power demonstrated in the healing scriptures.

“I can’t tell you when God will heal you, but He will do it. But you too are going to have to believe Him, that is why it is important for you to read the Bible daily. Pray every day and ask God for guidance.” She left her phone number, reminding me that I could call her at any time for any reason.

I agreed to meet with her twice a week and started to read the Bible daily. Several weeks went by and subtle changes appeared. The weight of worry and doubt lifted. A joyous feeling lived in my soul. My whining and self-pity lifted. I had an abundance of energy. I forgot a disease was living inside me except when I wanted to use my arms and legs. As time passed, it became effortless to follow the map Helen had outlined.