The God Dot

My God Dot — A Reminder of Grace

Today was a windy day.

I walked out of the barn, and there on the ground was what I have come to call a “God Dot.”

An old hornet’s nest had blown down and landed where I couldn’t miss it.

To someone else, it might have looked like nothing more than an abandoned nest. But to me, it represented one of the most frightening chapters of my life—and one of the clearest reminders of God’s grace.

For many years, my health had been a struggle. I had faced cervical cancer, fibromyalgia, symptoms of an autoimmune illness doctors could never quite pinpoint, and later signs pointing toward Lyme disease.

Then, in early 2017, my cancer appeared to be returning. At the same time, doctors discovered unusual masses on my ovaries that had twisted and were bleeding. I made the difficult decision to have a hysterectomy.

The surgery did not go as expected.

I came out of it with devastating complications. My vision was severely affected. I experienced infections, nerve problems, drug-induced lupus, and damage involving my vagus nerve.

My world suddenly became very small.

Several months later, just as I was beginning to get back on my feet, something else happened.

I fell into an underground hornet’s nest in my horse pasture.

That moment changed everything again.

My body went into an extreme reaction, and I experienced a severe mast-cell response that seemed to affect nearly every system in my body. My liver function declined dramatically. My face and throat became so swollen that I struggled to breathe. I could barely speak, and for many months I couldn't swallow solid food. At one point, I was living on little more than blended sweet potatoes and zucchini because my immune system seemed to react to almost everything.

I found myself repeatedly in the emergency room.

What began with very real anaphylactic symptoms gradually became intertwined with something else—fear. Every time my throat tightened, my body remembered what had happened. The physical reactions and the anxiety became almost impossible to separate.

There were days when simply existing inside my own body felt unbearable.

I would pace around the house crying, praying and gasping for breath, desperate for someone to understand what was happening and tell me how to make it stop.

My doctors and specialists didn't seem to know how to help me.

So I began searching.

Eventually, that search led me to people in New Jersey who offered another direction for my healing. And very slowly, over the years that followed, inch by inch, my body began to heal.

But through all of it, there was something else happening that no medical test could measure.

God was changing me.

I give God the credit for saving my life.

Looking back, I believe He was trying to get my attention in ways I could no longer ignore. And strangely enough, I have become grateful even for the vulnerability of that season because it allowed me to see Him working in my life in a way I never had before.

When I lost so much of my sight after surgery, God helped me see.

I began noticing things I had somehow been blind to before—things about my life, the people around me, myself, and my relationship with Him.

And when my throat tightened and I could barely speak for months, God taught me to listen.

To be still.

To pay attention.

To hear His voice.

Healing was not quick, and it certainly wasn't easy.

For several years, I was largely homebound. Driving or simply going somewhere could have consequences for my health. Things most people never had to think twice about became things I had to carefully consider.

But little by little, things began changing.

God placed new people along my path—people who helped me physically, emotionally, and spiritually.

I also began changing the way I cared for my body. I became much more intentional about what I ate, what I exposed myself to, and what my body seemed to be telling me.

Slowly, I began getting pieces of my life back.

There were times when I believed I was almost healed and that this chapter of my life was finally coming to an end.

But healing, I have learned, doesn't always follow the timeline we expect.

That is why finding that old hornet’s nest meant so much more than simply finding something that had blown down in the wind.

It was a marker.

A little dot connecting where I had been with where God was leading me.

My God Dot.

A reminder of the pasture.

A reminder of the hospital visits.

A reminder of the nights I couldn't breathe.

A reminder of the months I could barely speak or eat.

A reminder of losing so much of my sight—and beginning to see my life differently.

And most of all, a reminder that even when I could not see the path ahead of me, God could.

I wouldn't have chosen many of the things that happened to me.

But I can look back now and see that God was beside me through every one of them.

My scars became part of my testimony.

My weakness taught me dependence.

My silence taught me to listen.

And losing my sight taught me another way of seeing.

Perhaps that is why I notice these little things now—the unexpected reminders placed along our path that tell us to stop for a moment and remember not only how far we have come, but Who walked with us to get here.

Today, mine happened to be an old hornet’s nest lying on the ground outside my barn.

And I knew exactly what it meant.

Nearly ten years have passed since that surgery, and I still can't say that I am completely healed. There are still things my body struggles with. There are still limitations I wish weren't there, and there are still days when I wonder why this journey has had to be so long.

But perhaps my testimony was never supposed to be, “God healed me, and everything became easy again.”

Perhaps part of my testimony is this:

God stayed.

He was there when I couldn't see.

He was there when I couldn't speak.

He was there when I couldn't breathe.

He was there when I was frightened, exhausted, confused, and searching for answers.

And He is still here now.

God is still working through my life, still teaching me, still changing me, and still placing little reminders along my path that I am not walking it alone.

Today, that reminder was an old hornet's nest.

Something that once represented one of the most terrifying moments of my life had become a symbol of how far God had carried me.

My God Dot.

And for that, I will always praise Him.

Sometimes the things that once represented our greatest pain become the very things that remind us how faithfully God carried us through it—and that He is still carrying us today.