Graced For This

By Jamie Wharton

There are some things that only God can do. There are some battles that only God can fight. And there are some victories that only glorify God. My battle with cancer has been one of them. So, I have decided to share that journey through transparency, vulnerability, and honesty. I pray that it allows you to be vulnerable yourself in whatever batt

• Language: English
• Publisher: JamieY
• Release date: Mar 17, 2022
• ISBN: 9780578370767

Jamie Wharton

As a writer, I have spent time growing from a poet who only shared my words with my diary to a spoken word artist who commanded a stage with power. Now, I have bloomed into the woman of God that can publish and produce what God has given me to say through books. As an author, I have matured into the ministry of words. I have pursued and obtained both my Associate's and Bachelor's degree in Political Science, because I found a hidden passion for political affairs. I was drawn to the field by way of activism and representation of people's rights. This was how I learned that my passion was with people. I wanted to help people who were struggling with their identity according to God's word. Along with writing, I have found an interest in publishing, ministry, and, more recently, family counseling. Learning who I am in the midst of trials has been truly one of the most exciting experiences. I pray that this book blesses you in ways that are unlimited. I hope you are encouraged by these words. I desire for this to inspire you in pursuing your own calling even in the midst of your hardest battle, because it has always been maintained that God created the most beautiful things in the dark. -JamieY.

Book preview

One

It was going to be another one of those nights. I could tell. I could feel the sleeplessness as it tugged and pulled on my every nerve. The sad part is that I was getting familiar with it. Sleep was a rare thing and exhaustion weighed down on me like a ton of bricks.

It’s safe to say nights were especially tough for me. I had so much history with what was abnormal that I didn’t question how wrong my body felt. I still tried to move. I had to get out of this bed if it was the last thing I did. The ever-loyal common sense and pure logic told me that I had been in bed far too long. My limbs felt like concrete as I swung them off the edge of the queen-sized mattress. Sheets and covers lay scattered across my bed. My stiff muscles popped as I put on my shoes and jacket while sitting in the only steel chair available.

I loved nights like this because the air was crisp and it was quiet, allowing me to hear my own rampaging thoughts and sort through them. The night often spoke to me, or rather, God often spoke, cutting through the living air, reaching my ears and my heart. It was peaceful and non-distracting. The only thing keeping me grounded was the occasional car passing of someone leaving for work or returning home after a long day. I often had much to think through and process. The problem was less about what I was going to do and more about what I could do with COVID-19 bulldozing its way through the country, looking for red and wreaking havoc with people’s schedules. Everyone was commanded to stay at home.

As I walked the length of the railroad tracks adjacent to my student apartment, warning bells became this dull background noise in the back of my mind.

Questions broke through my peace like a train picking up speed.

Why did I suddenly need this cane to walk?

Why was I so easily out of breath?

I feel so hot!

No, I’m cold!

Am I sweating after walking ten feet? Why do I hear my heart working double time, pulsing loudly in my ears as I get further away from my apartment?

These questions roiled around like black smoke in my mind, but I pushed on because I had become so good at keeping things simple. Just keep swimming, just keep going, were my mantras, often convincing myself that if I could just get to my destination, I would be alright. I could recover any damage sustained and rest would be my reward. I often pushed myself harder than anyone else. I had become my biggest motivator and trained myself to go beyond my own limitations so I could do what others did so simply—walk. It was always the walking that reminded me that I wasn’t normal. I was different. I could sit and chat it up easily with the best of them, but the moment I had to walk anywhere, I needed to calculate in my mind if I could even do it. I always had to stop and ask myself if I could withstand the distance or if I was too tired to try. Every move in my life had become so calculating and needed so much forethought that it often wore me out. I reached the point where I just did it regardless of any consequence, convincing myself I’d face whatever happened when it happened. Kind of like this midnight stroll I decided to venture on, pushing my weak lungs to their limit. Come on, Jamie, one more step.

A part of me thought I could push past the rushing air in my head, the dizziness and lack of balance, and the searing pain collecting like boiling rocks in the pit of my stomach, but I had to reach my rock. There was this weirdly shaped, large rock that served as my marker at one of the crossroads up ahead. It was at least a mile or two away from my apartment. If I could just reach this spot, I would have made good progress and I could assess my body to decide if I wanted to continue or turn back. Plus, I could sit on it comfortably enough to catch my breath whenever I walked dogs in my care. Sometimes I’d sit on the rock and catch the summer sunset dipping behind the parked rusty brown and black trains smeared in graffiti. It was artistic and made me appreciate God’s handiwork. A moment in time where I could really see the fullness of what He did with what was in front of me.

But tonight, was all dreary drizzle and wet ground that slipped muddily under my shoes. I traipsed through my usual path between the dripping wet and prickly bushes near the parking lot and up the so-called road that was safer for pedestrians than cars. All I could see was my foggy breath as I forced oxygen in, willing it to keep my body going. It was quite a feat and, eventually, I realized that I needed to head back home. This strategy to clear my stuffy head and feel refreshed