Illness as Metaphor

Let's see. Melissa's platelets are still low, but steady. That is since Thursday of last week they have been 21, 17 and 19 when checked yesterday. She can't remember when she got platelets; it was somne day last week. So maybe things are holding.

The spots on the brain are shrinking fromt he radiation, so we are hopeful there.

Joseph came down with the stomach bug last night. If you recall, this has been the bane of our treatment process! Hopefully, Melissa got away soon enough (she is with her aunt) and she won't have to go back into the hospital. Is it possible that the rest of us can escape, too? Poor Joseph, he was miserable last night. But by this afternoon, he was more himself. So I suppose tonight we watch!

Pray that Melissa's platelets go up. There is some opining among the doctors that you can live with low platelets. Not that they want her to, but it may just be the way it is.

Thanks for all the prayer cover; it makes a difference. We feel it every day.

There is a ministry of undoing. A woman recently came into our community, needing to sober up, needing Jesus. I saw her sitting on the curb outside church one afternoon. As we talked a little bit, I had one of those insights you get from God about what was really happening to her. I just stopped what we were talking about and told her, "You don't have to believe what people told you about yourself when you were a girl. You don't ahve to believe what you tell yourself now." She just started bawling. I opened to one of the most powerful Scriptures, the account of God creating humans in Genesis. Before we are anything, I told her, we are created in the image of God. Before anything else, beyond anything else we are created in the image of God. "There it is in His Word. This is who you are. His child. So why do you listen to anyone, anything else?" We have to undo a lot of what has been done to people. And it is going to take a lot of people to do it. I may get to talk to a few people and share Jesus with them. There are many more who need to hear it.

It's a joy to be here. Sunday, a kid from Owensboro came to church. He was here looking for a treatment program. Had nowhere to sleep. So I put him up in one of our lovely accomodations on the Northside of town. He had to wait another day to find out about one treatment program. He was looking for another night in a room. He worked that day for tips at a car wash, so he paid for half the room and I picked up the other half.

We have a great relationship with the Lexington rescue Mission, a Christ-centered residential treatment program. But they were close to capacity. Could we get this motivated guy in? Sure enough, he got in. Finally, a chance to meet one of the deepest needs in our society: treatment for addiction.

Nothing makes you clean like getting mad when everyone is puking. I cleaned the heck out of the bathroom. I think a spider died from the fumes. I had the radio up, some hard rock blaring because there is no better mad-as-all-get-out cleaning music than hard rock. How do I know? Because my mom, the original, archetypal cleaning lady (her nickname is Ma Kelly, for those of you who like Johnny Dangerously) used to vacuum to the Scorpions. She'll deny it, but I came home from school one day, she had the vacuum running and I could still hear her over the top of it singing Rock You Like A Hurricane!