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The Bubble Saga: Part II

Bubble Saga - Stephanie Rice - Jesus Take the PenIf a picture says a thousand words, then here are three thousand to document the “Bubble Saga” in my left eye.

 

On December 14, 2017 the mysterious bubble on my left eye was at the height of its distress (read: about to burst).

Four days later on December 18 the bubble “reduced” and entered into a state best described as problematic, puffy and protruding.

With no medical intervention (and still no clue what that troubling bubble was really ever about) the pictures tells the amazing story. There is no denying, my eye has undergone miraculous healing.

The unfiltered, never photo-shopped “before” and “afters” give testimony to the wonderful truth that that problematic, painful, puffy protrusion is gone. The bubble that obstructed my vision and bound me to glasses for months has gone away. There is emptiness on my eyelid and it is evidence that a miracle has occurred.

It really should come as no surprise that God would reveal my healing miracle in the emptiness because that is where God revealed the greatest miracle of all.

Up from the empty grave, Jesus Christ rose again to heal with the miracle of His new, eternal life .

All the pictures in the world could never tell the story of the great suffering that Jesus endured before His resurrection. Jesus, the perfect Lamb of God, was completely spotless and innocent yet He willingly took on the guilt of every sinner. Jesus died to pardon with eternal forgiveness and save with merciful grace.

Bubble Saga - Stephanie Rice - Jesus Take the Pen

But Jesus rose again. The empty tomb is the evidence that death is defeated and hell has lost its sting. Jesus is Risen with eternal healing in His wings!

For all who seek the healing of His crucifixion and unite with His resurrected life, your miracle of eternal healing has already come. The evidence is in the empty tomb of the risen Lord, the Savior of the World, Jesus Christ!

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Subject to Change

It’s official.
On March 31st, with a Uhaul truck and returned security deposit, I’m hitting the road again and moving home…again.
Over the past eight years I have played relocation hop-scotch across the eastern United States. Long-time Pippy Love followers will remember that it all began in Sarasota, Florida on a 1,200 mile adventure to regain my health. At least, that was my plan until every detail of my agenda was turned upside down and changed due to declining health. Before I knew it, I was on the road again and headed back home again.
Next stop was a move to the village town of Chagrin Falls, Ohio followed by a journey back down to the Sunshine state. Both moves were made with pure intentions but neither one went according to my plan. After each failed relocation I hit the road and headed home…again.
Then, when I was absolutely sure I could not take one more ping-pong move, my plans changed. Before I knew it I was standing in the North Hills of Pittsburgh with a Lyme Disease diagnosis and a Uhaul truck to unpack. That was a year ago now and once again, my plans have changed. I’m on the road again. I’m moving home again.
To be honest, as much as I love my parents and childhood home, living at home in my twenties was not part of my plan. The broadest sketch of my plan included marriage and home ownership, not ailing health and a fixed up “apartment” in my parent’s basement. But my plans have been utterly destroyed and dramatically, fundamentally changed by the correcting, perfecting hand of God.
With every relocation and return home I have learned that every plan I make is subject to God’s perfecting change. When I plan and plot with a pure, surrendered heart He is faithful to transfigure and transform my moves by the renewing of His cleansing grace. Because He is merciful and loving, God restores my plans and sets them on the right road again. He brings them back home and back to the heart of His Son, Jesus Christ, again.

At every failed move God has furthered loosened my grip on my plans. He has weakened my hold on my will in order that I be free to grasp all the tighter to the Lord, Jesus Christ. In His infinite wisdom, God has used moving here, there and always back home again to soften my rigid heart. He has changed my plans to change my heart and transform it with the fluidity of Christ’s amazing forgiveness and grace.

I’m about to hit the road and move back home again…at least, that’s my plan.
But as you well know everything is completely subject and surrendered to God’s most good and glorious change.

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For the Love of Donuts

The donuts are different. For the first time in my life the Sunday post-sermon donut selection has changed.
For the past twenty four years the church donut selection has always featured the exact same sugary delights. The “random assortment” ordered from the grocery store bakery is never random. It’s the same each week. There are always cream-filled, jelly-filled and coconut-topped donuts. There are always plenty of glazed and a few apple fritters. For the children, and those young at heart, there are always doughy treats featuring sprinkles and chocolate frosting, too .
But today the decorations on the donuts were different. On one particular donut pretzels adorned the chocolate-frosting while gigantic California walnuts were atop another. A few of the chocolate eclairs were drizzled with pink frosting.
Since I haven’t tasted a donut in years and haven’t had a single craving, you might wonder why I care so much about the church’s donut selection. Although it’s true that my appetite no longer desires donuts my heart still craves them because donuts have played a very special role in my life.
You see, church, donuts and I go way back, all the way back to my very first church memory. It was 1994 and I was a toddler, still small and short enough to hide behind my Mom’s flowing skirt, which is precisely what I did until the end of each service. After the sermon, pastor would give a word in benediction then dismiss the congregation into the fellowship room for a time of conversation, coffee and, of course, donuts.

And so it began, my love for donuts.

As a young child I reached for puffy glazed donuts and cinnamon twists. As a teen my taste buds were tantalized by the dense cake donuts that were covered in sweet maple frosting.
Over the years my choice of donut has changed countless times and now I don’t eat donuts at all. But the unconditional love and grace serviced at during the post-service fellowship hour hasn’t changed a bit. The compassion and care of my church family is as sweet as ever and as plentiful, too.
Although the decorations on the donuts are different the beautiful offering of the Savior’s love served and shared in that blessed fellowship room is still the same.