It has been radio-silence over here on the Beautiful Broken for a season.
Where have I been?
The short answer: ICU.
I developed sepsis in my port 14 days ago, and 12 days ago, my concerned husband drove my extremely febrile, dying self to the ER, which began two of the most bizzarre weeks of my life. I was admitted straight into ICU, with sepsis and a blood pressure of 60/30, and in the pain of it all, the bottom lobes of both of my lungs collapsed, placing the doctors at a very difficult decision: To intubate and risk my life and my fragile body with an invasive procedure, or to potentially under-treat my condition with the less-invasive bi-pap machine round the clock, with me under sedation. Because I was fully coherent, Jordan and I together made the decision of the bi-pap, and thus began the season of miracles. I’m home, after what feels like a season in the wilderness, or a journey through the valley of the shadow of death, fully restored in ways that I did not know to be possible.
I believe that God is doing a greater work, as He has restored my relationship with my family, set me free from fear, and called me to release control. My dreams are different. While two weeks ago, they were dreams of terror, they are now power-filled. Though still intense, I am protected and shielded in them, as though I were observing it happening through a lens or a movie. And when I wake up, I wake up cradled, as if God were comforting me in the aftermath of the intensity. Also, I always wake up with a word of explanation, as if God is giving me interpretation in the wake of the dream.
On Sunday morning, while still in ICU God spoke these words to my heart:
“Megan, you can’t control the outcome. But I reign above it all. So you don’t have to.”
That morning, I was completely overwhelmed by the glory of God. After days of no, sleep, in just 12 short hours, God restored peace to my family of origin, allowed me to speak life and gospel into the heart of a young budhhist whom He was pursuing, and anointed me with a strange, wonderful, terrible, intense outpouring of His Spirit in the form of dreams and visions. It was certainly an Isaiah 6 moment, when I felt as if I would burn up in the blaze of God’s glory which seemed closer than ever before. Also, it was in the wee hours of that morning that I felt the burning fever and pain of the infection lift from my body. I was released from the sepsis….which, I believe, is only the beginning of the physical healing. This time, though a time of deep, dark suffering through the valley of the shadow of death, has been the birthing of a new Megan—the one I was always created to be.
My friend Bonnie spoke it over me about a week before I went septic. She said that God was going to set me free from fear, that He would restore my family, and that He would release a greater outpouring of His Spirit. While my spirit agreed with her, my mind struggled to understand what she was saying. I simply couldn’t fathom it. I couldn’t fathom feeling deep love and compassion (the agape kind—the selfless, not codependent kind, without shame or self-doubt) for my parents. It was through the laboring, pain, and suffering, that something in me died (self, possibly), and some new Spirit-man was born, fresh as a baby chick, free, unfettered, and unhindered by self-consciousness, fear, or shame. I feel that there is so much God in between the lines in these statements: that the words only carry a shadow of what has occurred, and that words are sorely insufficient in expressing this supernatural work that is taking place in my mind, body, and spirit. I pray that the Spirit fills in the blanks that my words leave in the hearts of the readers.
In the days, weeks, months, and probably years to follow, I will continue to fill in the blanks of this season. Jordan set up a caring bridge account, on which we shared during my time in the hospital, so if you would like more details, feel free to click here.
For those who have been praying, thank you. Our God is indeed a miracle-working God.