Ashes of Kappa
I had been strung along a gauntlet of physicians. No consultation was alike, and I left each with more of two things: referrals and confusion. I was pricked more times than I could keep track of, and the pain increased with each visit. Medical administrators were rude to me because of my family’s political background, and I just wanted to keep my head down and hat on so that no one saw me. I hid myself until I was sat in shame in an office.
I had a sensitive issue, and I struggled to talk about it. Shame and Fear sang Ring Around the Rosie, and I kept falling down.
Ashes! Ashes! We all fall… down.
“It is most likely that you will have great difficulty ever having children.”
Ashes! Ashes! I fall… down.
Clinically, the endocrinologist said these words to me, and I know she was not trying to tell me anything other than what she saw. She had the blood tests, the charts, the ultrasounds, and the notes of the other specialist. She saw what was in front of her and told me the direction it was taking me. I do not hold it against her for just doing her job. As I sat in her office, the lies started planting themselves. They were on call for a place to land. Hopelessness is the perfect soil for a lie.
“Who would want to marry you anyway? You cannot even have children.” This voice had spoken to me many times before. It was close. It was familiar.
Worthlessness entered quickly and joined the circle.
The doctor went to medical school — she had the answers. Finally, someone had an answer for me, and it was just what all those tests were trying to find me, right? An answer. The ultrasounds, the blood tests, urine samples, the specialists, the poking and prying.
Had I heard God wrong? I must have.
I was prescribed birth control to regulate my hormones and essentially told, “Good luck out there, kiddo.” I took it, and things went from bad to worse. My mind was a mess, and all those side effects in the small print, well, those were not small print for me.
During that time though, I had been encountering Jesus powerfully and was beginning to believe that He still heals. I was hungry for him and walked blindly trying to find Him. I kept on keeping on and about my life as normal. I taught my classes, tutored my students, and studied. It was late fall, and the days were shortening; the dark grew.
It grew, and that familiar voice started speaking to me louder and louder:
Worthless.
Unwanted.
Hopeless.
This voice was so loud that I had to cry out loud, “Jesus, where is this coming from?!” I was desperate. “God, why am I sick?”
A different Voice spoke to me. This One was still and small. “Renounce Kappa Kappa Gamma,” was all that I heard. I was desperate. Renounce my sorority? What did that even mean? Why? The questions quickly formed and dissipated.
“In the name of Jesus Christ, I renounce Kappa Kappa Gamma.”
I felt nothing and decided to end the night and just go to sleep.
The new morning came, and its new mercy met me. Blood. I had not had my period normally for approaching two years, but that morning it returned. I have never had an issue since that night when I renounced the organization.
Delivered.
“To all who mourn in Israel, he will give a crown of beauty for ashes, a joyous blessing instead of mourning, festive praise instead of despair. In their righteousness, they will be like great oaks that the Lord has planted for his own glory.” Isaiah 61:3
