Lately I’ve gotten pretty used to the idea of God being a creative Healer. Miraculous, medicinal, therapeutic, I’m not really putting limits on what He may decide to use. I’m determined that I will not limit how He wants to move. Especially since I want healing. And yet still He has the ability to surprise me with His ways.

Over the last few years, I’ve gotten used to crowds. I’m in a crowd three times a week at my church and it doesn’t seem to bother me anymore. So obviously that’s not an issue anymore. Well, the last two events outside of my church have proven that theory horribly wrong. From having to leave the room at a women’s conference to almost shutting down at a vendor event, it became blatantly clear to me that I still struggle. It’s pretty hard to sell things when you can’t remember how to speak; plus being an author and stumblingly over your words doesn’t inspire confidence in your writing ability. As for the women’s conference, well I just apologize to everyone there that caught a glimpse of me leaving or glaring at everyone; the struggle between the past and present was real.

Obviously, I still have a bit of PTSD stuff to deal with, but I had no idea on how to work on it. For me, once something pops up it either gets taken care of or slowly gets worse until I find a way to take care of it. So suddenly I was beginning to have issues in places that I hadn’t in a long time. The biggest one was my church, I was starting to have anxiety, agitation, and worst of all, anger, when I was in the place where I had been raised to life and set free. It felt like I was sliding back down a mountain I had climbed. I prayed about it and, honestly, I started preparing for another crash. I’ve been told so many times that they are thing I need to get used to that for a little while I forgot about God healing and just set my mind on what looked like the inevitable. I forgot for a moment how incredibly creative God is and how much He desires to not only heal but be with us in the whole process.

A few days later my dad reminded of this veteran’s group we had planned on seeing. They are a group who helps veterans who need a service dog for a variety of health issues, one of the largest being PTSD. We had planned to see them for a couple months and I was pretty excited because I love dogs. As we were listening to the presentation, a stray thought ran through my mind: “I wonder if I could get Albus trained as a service dog?” What an odd thought! I quickly dismissed it as foolish, besides I was being healed by God (even though I thought I was heading into another valley). Getting a dog certified didn’t sound like having faith. But it didn’t stop going through my head. Nor did it seem crazy to any of the people I spoke to, my parents, close friends, pastoral staff, all seemed to think it was a great idea. But most importantly, the more I talked with God about it, the more it just settled my spirit. I don’t want to be all churchy sounding but I have no adequate words; I felt peace about it. Plus, God seems to enjoy unconventional methods with me and I’m learning more and more to be ok with that.

So, I filled out the paperwork. Albus was evaluated and passed with flying colors (honestly this dog was born to give comfort) and we got accepted into the program. That was the easy part! Now starts the training and so far I think I’m getting trained more than he is. I won’t say this is a new journey in healing more like another facet of God’s creative healing. Meds, therapy, miraculous, and now Albus; God isn’t limited to what I think He is able to do. If He decides to use a shaggy, black dog with a love of playing fetch and snuggling on my toes, to help heal; I won’t say no. I am determined to walk in God’s healing even when it means I have to actually walk it out with a leash and doggy treats.