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Four days before Christmas, my neurologist pushed back from his rolling stool confounded.  He rubbed at his bearded stubble and ran his hands through his hair.  This gesture forced his hair to stand on end. I smiled. His disheveled hair mimicked my own internal feelings of being physically disheveled.

The outcomes of a recent nerve conduction test and EMG did not align with the text book case of the neuromuscular disease, CIDP that was earlier suggested.  “Mrs. White, I have scheduled you for an MRI on January, 5, 2016. You are not presenting with the typical symptoms of Multiple Sclerosis, but I need to rule it out.”

During a sleepless night, I pondered a statement posted on the CIDP online support group.  The member wrote: “There is no cure for CIDP, but remission is something to aim for.” (Oh course, God may choose to “cure” me at any moment that he chooses!)

Remission is not a word I ever expected to be part of my everyday vocabulary. I savored the word, swirling it in my mind, the way a sommelier swirls a glass of red wine. I reached for my Merriam Webster dictionary on my nightstand (something, I’m sure only writers have on their nightstand) and looked up the word remission. I decided to break the word down even farther to its two root words, re and mission

Remission [ri-mish-uh n]

-noun  A temporary or permanent decrease or subsidence of manifestations of a disease.

Re [re]

-prefix  A prefix meaning again, anew, in a different form.

Mission [mish-uh n]

noun  An important task or duty that is assigned.

My fortieth birthday was on July 30 (7/30), and I had read each Scriptural reference that corresponded with the seventh chapter and thirtieth verse. I read some of those verses and my hands froze, when I came across these words in Acts 7:30, “After forty years had passed, an angel appeared to Moses in the flames of a burning bush in the desert near Mount Sinai.”

Forty years after Moses fled the Egyptian palace, when he was comfortable be a shepherd for his father-in-law, Moses was given a new challenge. His assignment was to go back and free the people. Through Moses, God would prepare the way for hope and freedom.

The phrases, after forty years, remission, and hope, fill my mind. Could it be that God was using my fortieth birthday and the assignment to search the 7:30 verses to prepare my heart for my next mission? Could it be that these quirky and painful neurological symptoms are actually part of my new mission?

children- hope pixabay

Yes, I believe so.

I believe Re*Mission is my new mission of HOPE for the next phase of my life. While I wait for further testing, I could choose pity or I could choose praise. I choose to praise. I know God will use this experience to be a beacon of hope to others also suffering from neuropathies, invisible pain, health problems, and other Red Sea challenges.

My verse for 2016:

“May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in Him,

so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit.”

(Romans 15:13, NIV)

Wishing you a happy and faith-filled New Year!


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