My Confession
I used to think healing had to be instant to be real. But then came the season where I walked through pain—literally—and learned that sometimes, healing comes in the pressing. This is the story of how God met me there.
I don’t know if you’ve ever felt invisible—but I have.
There’ve been moments in my life, especially as a single mom, when it felt like I could be shouting from the rooftops and still go unheard. Like I was in a crowded room, holding everything together with one fraying thread, and somehow still completely unseen.
That’s why I can’t stop thinking about her—the woman with the issue of blood. Twelve years of bleeding. Twelve years of whispers. Twelve years of rejection. She wasn’t even supposed to be in that crowd. But she was there. Reaching. Hoping. Believing.
And I get it. Because I’ve been there too.
After my youngest daughter was born, I started having intense pain in my lower back that shot all the way down my right leg to my toes. It would come and go at first—but just before she turned two, it grew worse, to the point where it hurt to walk more than ten minutes. And I love walking. It was like losing a part of myself, one painful step at a time.
I mentioned it at my annual checkup, and after some tests, my doctor suspected sciatica. She also noticed my Vitamin D levels—already a struggle during pregnancy—had dropped dangerously low. Her concern wasn’t just the pain; it was how my daily life, my job, and the wear of motherhood might be grinding down my body in ways I couldn’t even see.
She gave me a treatment plan: 10,000 IU of Vitamin D, walking 20–30 minutes a day, and ibuprofen for relief. But the truth? Those first few weeks were brutal. Every step felt like fire down my leg. Some nights I couldn’t sleep. Some days I couldn't sit through a car ride without cramping. All the while, I kept wondering, God, when will this end?
Pressing Through The Pain
But like that woman pressing through the crowd, I pressed on. Through tears. Through exhaustion. Through the whispers of people who didn’t understand. I got up every morning, got my kids ready, and leaned on the promise that the God who saw her still saw me.
And then—quietly, almost without warning—something shifted. As autumn arrived, the pain eased. I could walk farther. The tight grip of suffering began to loosen its hold. And by winter, it was gone. Since 2013, I haven’t had another bout of that sciatic pain. Not once.
To the mother walking through her own silent battle—this is for you.
You may feel like no one sees your sacrifice. Like your pain has gone unnoticed. Like your name has been lost in the shuffle of schedules, school drop-offs, and lonely nights. But I want to remind you of something sacred: God sees you.
Even if the healing isn’t instant. Even if the journey is long. Even if you're still in the pressing—He hasn't looked away.
You are not overlooked.
You are not unheard.
You are not unseen.
You're known.
You're carried.
You're loved.
And sometimes, healing comes not just in the miracle—but in the walking, the pressing, and the showing up, one day at a time.
Scripture Reflection:
"She said to herself, 'If I only touch his cloak, I will be healed.' Jesus turned and saw her. 'Take heart, daughter,' he said, 'your faith has healed you.' And the woman was healed at that moment." — Matthew 9:21–22 (NIV)
Reflection Question:
Is there a place in your life right now where you feel unseen? What might pressing forward look like for you today—even if it’s just one small step?
Let's talk about it. Leave a comment below.
Add comment
Comments