Healed In Thirty Seconds Or Less


By Phil Scovell




     One would not think a blind person, after more than 40 years
of total blindness, would not have anything they had not adjusted
to after all the training and teaching by schools for the blind
and rehabilitation centers.  In fact, such programs do their best
to program a person not to feel blind, not to act blind, and
certainly not to think blind.  It is silly, of course, because you
end up doing something nearly every day which reminds you of your
blindness.  You stub your toe, bump your head, trip over your
children's, or grandchildren's, tricycle, bicycle, scateboard,
motorcycle, or step on a sleeping cat or dog in the living room.
You can drop a screw and hunt for it for an hour, only to discover
you are sitting on it.  You misplace your hat, put on one each of
two different shoes or boots or socks, or be rubbing your false
eye in church and it accidentally pops out.  You can climb into
the backseat of your car, which you personally paid for, that your
16 year old son is now driving and suddenly feel depressed without
understanding why.  You can be attempting to cross the street with
a cane or a guide dog and feel the bus swish by just as you step
into the street when the light has turned green for you and red
for it.  You can get up early, shower and shave, get dressed in
your Sunday-go-to-meetin clothes and sit for two hours, waiting
for a promised ride for church which never arrives.  Every blind
person I know could write a book on such events which can easily
remind us that we are blind.  Some agencies and organizations
attempt to try and make you forget that you are blind or even to
suggest your blindness is just a physical inconvenience for which
there are always methods that can be successfully used to
circumvent the nuisance of being blind.  The real truth is, you
never forget because you are always constantly reminded many times
a day.

Our home based church Sunday meeting was over and everyone left to
go find some lunch.  I walked into our bedroom and began to change
clothes.  As I was hanging up my pants and shirt, an old familiar
memory flashed into my mind.  This memory was related to my
blindness because it happened shortly after I had lost my sight at
11 years of age.  I thought nothing of this memory as I stood
placing the hangers on the rod because I had seen the memory
hundreds and hundreds of times throughout my life.  It never
bothered me because I had become acclimated, as I had been taught,
just to let it go and not to focus on it.  So each time this
memory flashed on to my mental screen, as it were, I quickly
dismissed it as unimportant.

     Turning, I closed the closet door and walked to the other
side of the bedroom where my other clothes lay and began putting
them on.  The memory was still in my mind but fading fast because
I attributed no importance to it.

     Suddenly I stopped.  I intensified the memory until it was a
solid picture in my mind.  I knew, since this memory was
repetitive and it wasn't a particular happy memory by any stretch
of the imagination, there had to be something in this memory the
Lord wanted to heal for me.

     Putting on my clothes, I left the bedroom and walked directly
to my office on the other side of our home.

     Seated behind my desk, I focused on the memory once again.  I
began to pray.  I pray a little different than one might think in
these particular situations.  I never say a word; I just let my
thoughts become God's.

     Shortly after losing my sight, my mom and I went down to
Kansas to see her family.  Nearly all of her 11 brothers and
sisters and their families lived in Kansas.

     I always enjoyed seeing all of my cousins and this time, we
spent the night with Uncle Gerald and Aunt Burness; Aunt B we
called her as kids.  The unusual thing about this family is that
my aunt and uncle had 5 girls and no boys.  My younger sister,
Ruth and I, plugged right into the middle of the age groups
represented by this family.  This visit was different, however,
because I was now blind.  Yet, all went well, at first, until late
that first night.

     We all dragged out blankets and pillows to sleep all together
in the living room.  This was a common practice when we all got
together because we all liked to talk and giggle, tell scary
stories, and generally drive our parents crazy.

     It was growing late but we were far from tired.  My mom and
her sister were seated at the kitchen table visiting softly as
they occasionally tossed a watchful eye over to the pillow fight
that had erupted.

     I had my head under my blanket and was being beat to death by
6 pajama clad girls when suddenly, a corner of a pillow struck my
blanket directly where one of my blind eyes was.  It hurt but not
as much as I cried.  Everybody went dead still.  They were
probably thinking, "Oh, no.  We hurt Phil and he's blind now."

     I was thinking, "I'm not really hurt but I am blind now, and
that really hurts."

     Finally, Aunt B said she was sorry and soon all was forgotten
and we resumed our pillow fight.

     None of my girl cousins, as I called them, ever knew it, but
I really loved them all very much.  I had three sisters of my own
so I was used to being around girls but there seemed something
special about having so many girl cousins and I had a bunch.  We
all played well together and we always had fun.  I really did love
them, as I said, but this was back in the days when such things
were never ever mentioned.

     As I sat at my desk, thinking about this harmless childhood
memory, I said, "Lord, there's nothing wrong with this memory."

     "How did you feel?" I heard the Holy Spirit say quietly into
my thoughts."

     "I felt blind," I replied quickly and honestly.  You see, at
the moment that pillow hit me in the eye, I realized, not for the
first time, that I was now blind.  Therefore, I was different.

     The Holy Spirit gently said, "Yes, and how did you really
feel?"

     I thought for perhaps two seconds and then a smile creased my
face.  I said confidently, because I saw the lie, "I'm not like my
cousins any more."  I knew why, of course, and so did the Holy
Spirit, because I was blind.  That, however, was not the lie.  The
lie was I was no longer like my cousins.

     Before I could allow my thoughts to barely touch on what
Jesus wanted me to know about this, I heard His voice, "No, you
are not like them any longer; you are like me."

     This was not a major place of woundedness or so it would
appear on the surface.  Every lie we believe is, however, exactly
that; major.  Why?  Because it hinders our spiritual intimate
relationship with the Lord.  The moment Jesus said I was like Him
now, I felt the instant relief.  The lie was gone and the memory
no longer contained any pain.  I could now actually feel the love
I had for my cousins which I had never recognized before.

     The title of this testimony is how long my prayer, my
exchanged thoughts for God's, lasted.  You, too, can be healed
from emotional pain and woundedness that quickly.

Phil C Sharp
The Coil Of The snake
A Free Online E-Novel
www.SafePlaceFellowship.com