When did it change? When did that constant fear transition into this fragile new trust in the One who made me? When did I stop being SO very angry and depressed? When did the cobwebs clear and my soul become so light once more? I suppose the answer is that it was happening the whole time. Every single time I cried, every single moment of extreme weakness, every single feeling of utter helplessness. It was all this continual progression forward, this growth that Abba needed me to have in order to appreciate my body, my life, my soul, my salvation all the more.
I feel like me.
Not the me I was before Fibromyalgia, nor the me I was during the last 4 years of darkness, but a new me. A NOW me. A newly refreshed, rebuilt, and stronger me. And the glory goes all to the Jesus who stood by my side as others left. The Jesus who wept alongside me in the sadness, who felt my rage at the loss of the old life, who loved me so hard when I felt the most unlovable I ever have in my life. It is with tears of gratitude that I write these words. Love. It is powerful. Grace. It is essential. My soul is healed and whole, and while I am still sick, still have my bad days, having my center back, it means absolutely everything.
Those in my sphere have not always been comfortable about my illness and the changes it demanded to my lifestyle. I have been judged and doubted, mocked and emotionally beaten down, I have fought very hard to stay going when I felt the most hopeless. There were so many days where I simply did not want to exist anymore. It was too hard, I felt so weak. All I could do was exist, pray like mad, believe that God is sovereign, that He was breaking me in this huge, massive way so that He could fill me up so sweetly with more of His mercy and kindness. Mostly all I could ever do was hang on in desperation and pray I would make it through somehow.
There are some who would not wish for me to be honest about the severity of that brokenness. I cannot pretend it isn't so. Now, coming out on the other side of that dark tunnel, I understand how very essential it is to be real in the bleak times. This story, this portion of my love story with Jesus, that includes the times when I haven't been my best. When I have felt most damaged and irrelevant. The times when I was so mad that I felt like God had forgotten I am His favorite.
I sit here and I think about how these last few days I have interacted with people, gone out to a restaurant, went shopping, did chores, and did the basic things that once upon a time were SO difficult. Was there really a time when simply going to the supermarket was overwhelming? I would have to recover for days after one outing. Taking a shower was hard work. It is such a precious victory to be able to do more then I have in 5 years! I am still sick. I still require recovery days, and I have learned (and am still!) to erect boundaries, even when people try to demolish them. The truth is, I don't think there is any one magic trick that has resulted in this moment. There have been so many conversations, convictions, prayers, ugliness, doctors, medications, conflicts, and massive self-reflection. It has been the most trying season of my young life, thus far, and I've definitely had my fair share of trials from the tender age of 16.
One thing that has helped immensely is juicing. I don't say that in a gimmicky way, or to insinuate that it has been a cure. It most certainly is not a cure, but it has given me a vitality that lacked before. Inches have fallen off, and my joints are looser and happier without the extra weight. I am not as exhausted all of the time. There were times where I could barely lift my arms or get out of bed, and I would have to force it. Now, I have days of intense chronic fatigue, but I rebound faster then I ever did before. Things are still impossible to open or lift on some days (milk cartons, books, etc.), but I find that my strength is more than it has been since 2010. I feel more alive.
Again, there is no cure. I have navigated this crazy terrain- at first with confusion, and then with extreme frustration, with less than perfect grace. To go from being adventurous and strong and involved in everything, to being bedridden and so tired and in pain all of the time, was killer. It took an incredible amount of time and effort to make it through. I honestly know that I would not have without Jesus. I am so thankful that He knows what is best for His children, that He removed me from an environment where I was not allowed to be sick, and that He positioned people and circumstances in order to convict me, break me, shake me, and refill me.
He removed every earthly crown I carried: ministry, mentoring, job, car, status, popularity, friendships, pride, and that Western culture contentment I found in being involved at church. And it hurt like being socked in the gut over and over.
I loved those things. I was passionate about those things. I wanted those things.
For a very long time, I thought I would never have anything resembling any of what I had to give up. My dreams dulled and eventually died, depression twisted throughout my soul like branches inside of my body- growing everywhere and choking out the happiness. My passion to go back to the Philippines and do missionary work faded. How could I go when I was so sick? I stopped caring about a lot of things. It was a fight to survive everyday with so much going on physically and emotionally.
There were trickles of sunlight into my soul. Over time, I allowed myself to feel things again, though I refused to dream. I was dealing with all of the losses, one on top of another, and I could see no way out. And it was there that He met me... my best friend, my love, my Savior. He met me again, and again, and again. Every moment when the despair was so thick, when I missed Mylie, missed the girls, missed my church family, missed my 5 mile walks, missed California, missed being healthy. He allowed me to be so ugly and broken before Him, and every time He asked me to surrender my earthly treasures (people, material objects, self-esteem, finances, everything) at the foot of the cross, I went- sometimes hesitant and doubtful. That refinement has been the most beautiful gift in my earthly life up to this moment.
I had to learn who I am without titles, without relationships, without an agenda. I had to face the worst parts of myself, and it was very unsettling at times. I went kicking and screaming at first.
To go through an emotional housecleaning at the same time as having to deal with belittling doctors, well meaning, but ignorant friends, judgmental family members, and a body that is literally in some kind of intense pain 24/7, not to mention that plaguing fatigue... well, it was very hard. ;)
I could not fathom living that way for the rest of my life. The thought filled me with dread.
Thankfully God has revealed to me that I don't have to look backwards. That old me, the one who worked 18 hour days, 7 days a week, always with the kids and meeting friends, and planning events... she was not being her best. The world had me believing that was MY best. To always be so busy, to be involved in everything, to be there for everybody all the time- that was very unhealthy, and in many ways, I am thankful that sickness intervened and forced me to drop everything and reevaluate my entire life. This was always my struggle:
This is what the Sovereign LORD, the Holy One of Israel, says: "In repentance and rest is your salvation, in quietness and trust is your strength, but you would have none of it.
Isaiah 30:15
I knew I needed to rest, but I consistently struggled against it. I had too many commitments, and I wanted to honor them all. Eventually it all caught up to me, and I was exhausted all of the time, and BOOM!- here came the sicknesses that would change my entire world.
There have been sweet signs of God's faithfulness along the way. His presence has never drifted, even when I have felt like it. That's been one of the biggest gifts Abba has deposited into my spirit through this trial: that we have to be able to rely on Him, and worship Him, and praise Him, and know Him even away from fellowship and a church building. That we have to remember His promises, His provision, His character, even if we are alone on a deserted island, or hidden away (like people in scripture who were driven out or imprisoned), or unable to make it to a building every week. It has made me question who I am away from the fellowship I once took for granted. Who are we away from the christian environment? Does our faith, our reliance on the One, falter or disappear when we are removed from the church? Are we still able to choose Jesus in the storms of life?
Those are the important questions. The ones that have been like a seesaw over these years. Who am I? Who does God say I am? Who is God?
Something major- illness, death, divorce, loss... when those things happen, we lose something essential within ourselves. That brokenness is very real and we should NEVER be ashamed of that, or pretend it doesn't exist. Pretending we have it all together is not doing any favors for Jesus. Admitting our flaws, our weaknesses, our struggles, our doubts- THAT is what brings us closer to Him. To remember that it's not about us, not about this life, not about what we do or have, not about our triumphs, not about our fragile egos. It is all, always, forever about Jesus Christ. We lose our lives in order to gain our life.
It's all going to go away... the job, the money, the relationships, the cars, the vacations, the marriage, the bible studies. Of course, we should have those things, and we should sow into them, always with the knowledge that any of those things can be taken away at any moment. That when we are laying on our deathbeds, none of that is going to matter.
When Jeremy died, that really became so obvious to me. Something I heard over and over from pastors: "it'll all go back in the box," and everything else. To not rely on our earthly victories, to not hold so tight to everything. When he died, I realized that someone I love so much is literally in heaven right now. All of the times we talked about movies, or hung out, or had a friendship- that was fun and super important, but not as important as what his death showed me. He is free. He is whole. He is healed. In heaven, Jeremy is no longer bound to that wheelchair. He is with Jesus. Right now. Today. It gives me chills. It makes me so grateful in a way I cannot fully articulate.
And I don't want his life to be forgotten, and his death was not for naught.
Jeremy's death was a huge moment of breakthrough that God used to redirect me on the road of emotional healing.
With Jeremy's death, Jesus brought me back to life. He breathed new life over my bones, my spirit, my heart, soul, mind, body, and will. He reminded me of what awaits us in the heavenlies, He reminded me of His fiery strength living within me by way of His Spirit, He reminded me of grace and dignity and beauty from ashes. He reminded me that this is all just stuff. Real stuff, but ultimately all just stuff. That every relationship, every commitment, every decision for life: it all rests with Him.
I get some flack for not being married, for not having birthed my own children, for the choices I have made that haven't made sense to many. Like choosing to love children and pour into them, instead of working some 8-5 office job. My whole entire history is not written out for all the world to see. All the jobs I've held, all the efforts made. And that's okay. It's no one else's business.
Before I got sick, God was leading me down a radical path, and these last few years have tested that. I have had the temptation to give in to the judgments, I have had the frustration of feeling inadequate in my illness, and I definitely did not feel like some spiritual warrior.
BUT... here's the most beautiful thing: I am called to live radically.
And what radical looks like in my life might be different than anyone else.
Radical to me means, believing I will go back to the Philippines. It means being open to the possibility that one day I will be able to work again. It means living my life only and ever for Jesus. It means not caring what people speak about my life, my illness, my heart. It means staying connected to those who challenge me and edify the Lord. It means continuing to live with Fibromyalgia, but not fighting against it anymore. It means choosing wellness- whether that is with supplements, juicing, exercise, choosing not to participate in activities, or sleeping as much as my body needs. It means I choose not to be manipulated, or shamed into making decisions that are not contingent with what God has for me. It means I am 100% free in Christ, and even if no one understands the whys of my life, He does and He will.
I feel so grateful. My heart cannot take it in. To know so much love is streaming from the heart of Christ to His people, to be a recipient of that love- it is the sweetest present in all of the earth.
One thing God has shown me, is that I am to be so thankful for my body. I have to thank my nervous system, my immune system, my blood, my bones, every organ. I have to love and cherish this vessel, because He has entrusted me to take care of it. Before, I was so mad at myself for being sick. I felt like a giant failure everyday. I put myself down constantly. I honestly hated my body. But for awhile now, God has been firm about me appreciating my breath and valuing my body every morning. A sick body still needs to be loved. He reminds to stop, to rest, to invite Him into every nook and cranny repeatedly.
There isn't anything about my journey that is from my own doing. I do not deserve the credit, the praise, the satisfaction of getting through the darkest night of the soul. It all belongs to Jesus. He is the most thorough physician, the most delicate healer, the most faithful friend. I pray that He continues to humble me as I walk along this path. I must be honest and say that I am very thankful that it seems the worst of the emotional trauma has passed! It was a pill to endure, but it has made me stronger, and I will forever be appreciative of that. And it's not the end. Of this I know. There will always be trials, and the sickness invading my body is still there, but now I know I can handle it. I know I am not ever alone, and that where I am weak, He truly is the strongest one of all.
http://youtu.be/qEPNYW99MqA
http://youtu.be/qEPNYW99MqA
