Anemic and foggy

Well, well. Another in a long line of things happened to me Sunday. I fell apart. Literally. As best I can remember, I was fine for the first two services I preach, then things go rather funky. I don't really remember much of the third service except I couldn't find my place in much of it. And the service as stopped at one point by a woman who came up to talk to me fearing I was having a stroke.

I finished, got some sleep, taught a Bible study later with only a few lips, then yesterday pretty much against my desires, my wife took me in to the doctor. Long story short, apparently I'm anemic, blood tests show.

All I know was how frightened I was, all the while trying not to show it, and how embarrassed I was that I couldn't function properly.

I know this much about the whole incident, one day after turning 60 years of age I fell apart. Literally. I had no control over my actions, over my speech, over my body or mind. And that is as scary as it gets, friends.

When prayers go up, and you're the one in desperate need of them as opposed to being the one who is called on to do the praying, you certainly are aware of whom to turn to.

I prayed hard, first for clarification, second for healing. Maybe it should have been the other way around, but not knowing what was wrong was on top of being healed of what was going on.

Today, I'm shaky, but apparently fine. But, for example, there is a sheet of paper I worked hard on to get things right, listing dress nos. 1-10 on two columns. I know this is important, but frankly, I have no idea why. I did this Sunday. I'm sure it will come back to me, but maybe not. That's how scary this is and was.

Pray for me, still. Pray for me that I can do my duties. Pray that the time I spent trying to do on my own what could only be a shared experience with God will pass.

God love you all. I'll try to begin my 60th year again...