Recently, I had to go visit the doctor due to a losing battle with a sinus infection, and my wife’s severe lack of sleep due to my sickness (according to her I snore). Simple drill, go in, see the doctor, get my medicine and head back to the house. Most of the time, we tend to be in a hurry. Not up for short conversations, especially when feeling under the weather. 

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When I was heading out of the doctor’s office, there was a young boy and his grandmother sitting in the waiting room. I nodded their way, then continued towards the exit. Suddenly I heard the young boy ask a question as I reached for the door. “Where you burned?” It kind of took me a second to process what this kid was asking me. I let go of the door to turn around, and the grandmother said very sweetly, “he’s asking if your hands were burned, he got burned on his leg.” 

 

Now I had time to process, this kid had seen my hands. For those unfamiliar with my personal appearance, I have a skin disease known as “vitiligo”. Vitiligo is a chronic autoimmune disorder that causes patches of skin to lose pigment or color. The cause of vitiligo is unknown, but it may be related to immune system changes, genetic factors, stress, or sun exposure.  I honestly don’t remember when it started appearing, perhaps in my mid 20’s, I noticed white patches appearing on my hands.  

 

Honestly, it’s not something that I notice continually, usually it comes to mind when someone new asks about it. I go through seasons where it bothers me, fear of it spreading even more. I’ve been guilty of having fun with kids when they ask me what happened. I once told Warnock’s 10-year-old baseball team it was b/c I didn’t wash my hands after using the restroom. (Nearly every kid in the dugout looked at their hands nervously). 

 

So now that I’ve processed in the short time, that this kid, had a burn on his leg. I looked at the young kid sitting there in the room, and laughed and said “Oh my hands? No that’s the way God made me. Unfortunately, parts of my skin lose its color”. At this time, I saw his leg, which had a perfect little burn mark about 4 inches long and 2 inches wide down his shin. I asked if that was his burn, and if it hurt really bad. To which he nodded. I then responded, “I love praying for people, and I believe that God can heal your burn and pain from it.” I asked for permission to pray for him, and he agreed. When I finished, he looked at me and thanked me.  

 

Now I know that this is the part of the story, where it’d be cool to say, immediately the burn scabbed over and quit hurting. I really didn’t stay around long enough to find out. It probably would have been weird for the boy and his grandmother if the random man with white patches asked to stay while he went to the see the doctor. Not taking anything away from the power of prayer or our awesome God.  

 

For me though, it meant so much more. As a person that believes we serve a God that is continuously speaking to his children. He longs for communication with us, whether through songs, conversations, that still small voice, constant communication, through his majestic nature, he’s always in conversation with us. It says in Psalms 139:17 “How precious also are your thoughts to me, O God! How vast the sum of them! If I should count them, they would outnumber the sand.” In other words, God loves you a lot, and is always thinking of you and wanting to chat and share glimpses of his glory!  

 

Therefore, as I was getting into the Jeep to leave, I was overcome with Joy. Perhaps the prayer was more for me. The Lord reminded me that my vitiligo is something that I’m often embarrassed of, but that doesn’t mean he is embarrassed of it. I thought about how it’s something I have prayed for years to be changed. Perhaps it was just a gentle reminder that he’s able to use anything, even though I see something as perhaps a flaw that’s not how the creator sees it.  

 

My father sees me and all of my “flaws” as one of his beautiful creations. “I will give thanks to You, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made; Wonderful are Your works, And my soul knows it very well. 

 

Be Encouraged,  

DHowell