Sunday morning. 9:30 am. My shoulder is hurting so badly that I can’t even touch up the paint on my nails without feeling the pain shoot down my arm. I think to myself that it will be another Sunday where I’m once again just the girl who needs a healing. I wonder when the day will come that I will be able to go to church for the same reason any “normal” person goes. Worship begins. I alternate hands between praising God and holding onto the chair in front of me until I know my balance can be trusted. Focus. Focus on God. It seems I pray that more than…