I've spent a lifetime in love with the mountains of Colorado. I love to walk for miles in the ponderosa forests, listening to the wind in the trees while the clouds above dance in the sky. Several times I've changed homes and careers so I could live near these hills that, to me, express the power and beauty of God.
But then, in 1996, I began to develop symptoms of altitude intolerance. Because the condition stemmed from a work-related injury, I was required to undergo medical examinations. The doctors told me that, as a result of pesticide poisoning, my lungs were no longer functioning properly. And they said there was no hope for a cure.
I felt I had no choice but to leave my home in the mountains. And that caused an overwhelming feeling of loss. I feared I would never again be able to go hiking or participate in the other outdoor activities I loved. Over time, the symptoms became so severe that I could only breathe comfortably at sea level. Any increase in altitude or exposure to anything less than pristine air left me gasping for breath. Although I'd had healings before by turning to God in prayer, I couldn't help but think that this condition was too severe to be healed.
