Health & Wellness

Hope for the Hurting

admin — Sat, 08 Nov 2008 13:52:29 -0600

Doctors define chronic pain as pain that persists unabated for more than three months and cannot be alleviated completely with medication. For the 50 million chronic pain sufferers in the United States, coping with this kind of daily discomfort can seem hopeless—but it doesn't have to be. Norman J.

Closer to Him

admin — Mon, 03 Nov 2008 11:38:34 -0600

By age 22, I'd experienced various kinds of pain—everything from family bereavement to root canal surgery without anesthetics. But there was one kind of suffering I'd never imagined...the pain of feeling betrayed by God.

Empty Pew?

Thu, 11 Dec 2008 18:11:40 -0600

My five-year-old daughter, Teresa, came into my bedroom Sunday morning. “Mommy, are you going to church with me and Daddy?”

I groaned. I’d woken up with every muscle and joint aching—another flare-up of my rheumatoid arthritis. I didn’t want to get out of bed, let alone go to church. “Oh, sweetie, I don’t feel well.”

Coming Back

admin — Mon, 08 Dec 2008 14:53:53 -0600

The dirty clothes did it. I slumped on my bed, unable to escape them. They had been mounting in the comer of my bedroom for weeks, a symbol of the gloom overshadowing me. I'd always been a positive, independent type of person, but for four long months since the accident, I had been falling deeper and deeper into depression. Lying on my bed in my darkened room, I knew something had to be done about that mountain of clothes. But what could I do, encased as I was in casts on my lower legs and right arm?

Grant of Time

admin — Thu, 11 Dec 2008 13:05:58 -0600

On an October afternoon nearly 34 years ago, I was quilting with other ladies in the basement of our small church. My husband, Charles, and two of our sons were home working on the farm. Suddenly the pastor called down the steps, "Ruth, Charlie's had an accident. You're needed at home immediately!"

Johnny's Rainbow

admin — Tue, 25 Nov 2008 13:09:31 -0600

I used to work as a printer for the Detroit Free Press. It was in the linotype area, with its acrid smells of ink and melted lead and the nonstop clanging of typesetting machinery, that I first met Johnny Wayne English. Johnny's been dead for quite some time now, and I still miss him terribly, but I'm better off for having known him because he taught me how to live with pain.

Trusted Partner

admin — Mon, 17 Nov 2008 11:51:41 -0600

Sometimes God answers our prayers in ways we could never imagine. He did this in my work as a marriage, family and child counselor. I am confined to a wheelchair because of multiple sclerosis, but I had always felt my disability helped me in my work. I could identify with people's problems and gain greater insight into their needs.

Traveling Companion

admin — Wed, 26 Nov 2008 13:14:08 -0600

My four-year-old son, Wil, endured terrible leg pains. After consulting various doctors, my husband, Tom, and I were told Wil was probably suffering from arthralgia—difficult growing pains. We learned to live with his complaints and help him bear the pain. But one of the hardest times we had was during a trip to Florida.

We were flying to Miami to attend a wedding. Wil and his seven-year-old brother, Matthew, sat in window seats so they could enjoy their first jet ride. Suddenly I heard Wil say to his father, "My leg hurts."

Journey to Health

admin — Mon, 24 Nov 2008 10:28:33 -0600

Each of us faces pain, no two ways about it. But I firmly believe that in every situation, no matter how difficult, God extends grace greater than the hardship, and strength and peace of mind that can lead us to a place higher than where we were before. Let me tell you about one of the hardest times in my own life, and how I found this to be true.

"I Have Engraved You on the Palms of My Hands"

admin — Tue, 18 Nov 2008 12:27:59 -0600

I sat at my desk and gazed out the window at the drizzle and the rain-slick rooftops of our neighborhood. It was Mother's Day, and I smiled as I pictured the energetic boys my babies had become. After lunch, 10-year-old Kyle and 8-year-old Matthew had gone to play at the Glasses' house a couple of blocks away.

Suddenly a huge slash of lightning cut a jagged path through the sky. Then a deafening crash of thunder exploded the quiet of the afternoon. "Wow, that was close!" I called to my husband, Steven, as I went back to work.