By Lysa TerKeurst
I woke up on what I thought would be an ordinary Monday a few summers ago, but nothing was normal.
I felt as if knives were mercilessly carving their way through my insides. Waves of nausea left me convulsing and desperate for relief. I tried to step out of bed, but I collapsed and screamed.
My family rushed me to the emergency room, where we all hoped I could find some relief and help. But as panic gave way to desperation, I cried out for God to help me: “Take the pain away! Please, dear God, take this pain away!”
But He didn’t. Not that moment. Not the next. Not even the next day.
(Read the article here.)