Love, Love, Love

The holidays are over. The hustle and bustle have stopped. The Christmas tree is put away. Outside it is calm. Cold, but calm.

And here I lay in a severe flare. Day 12 of it. It started as a baby flare right before Christmas and then the day after I was down for the count. But stubborn me, there was a friend in town visiting and so I made myself get dressed, interact, even go to the bookstore. Then I "rested" for a couple of days, had extremely minimal relief and went out again with said friend and her children. I felt the flare amp up immediately. My back started to ache- just from sitting in a car, picking up a child, and standing still while another child ran in circles around me holding onto my hands. The flare stretched on. 4 days later and I am in a worst state then before.

I am reminded of what it is like to be bedridden again. What it feels like to not have a few horrendous days tossed into the "normal" days. Normal is never normal. Not like healthy normal. It's more a muted ability to function, to run errands, have fatigue but not be unable to move, to be able to at least go to church once a week if you are really diligent about the A-Z steps in order to endure the outing.

When it gets like this anger comes back and helplessness and frustration. Last night I lay for an hour trying to muster up the energy to get up to use the restroom. I simply could not do it. The heart palpitations are drumming in their steady frantic dance, and I feel like this is it. This is life. I stare longingly out of this bedroom window and feel so bad that I would love to go on a walk. I could. I could force myself but that just means I would feel worse later and right now my limbs are so weak I doubt I would make it very far.

It's such a mind vs. body battle. I am stubborn. I am a hard-worker. I like to do things. Sitting around on a bed is not my idea of fun, and being in this position again is so maddening to me. I know it will pass, but just as surely another flare will come again. That's what this illness is. A lifetime, a system of checks and balances.

Last night I had one of those random rage attacks. I lose control. It happens rarely but when it does I am not myself. I am crying and so angry and I'm jerking around and wanting to not exist and I'm exemplifying behaviors that I am not proud of and the sweat is pouring. Last night was especially bad and I told someone I love so much that I hated him. I spit. I threw things. I have since found out that those episodes may be related to something in the brain short circuiting, or quite possibly a seizure. Not a seizure in the way we see them in the movies, but another kind. Something for me to talk about with whatever doctor I end up with. It's scary and most definitely not me. Not my words, not my feelings, not my attitude towards life. I was fine. Happy even. Peaceful. Then it came out of nowhere and just as suddenly as it comes on and I am myself again. It's overwhelming and then I feel like a monster.

I have no idea how I can sit here in this skin, in this body another day like this. I am miserable. I know all the growth, especially in these last several days of journaling and praying and seeking God intensely are are vital and valid and so amazing, but when on day 12 of one of the worst flares yet, it is pretty difficult to see any silver lining at all. All I feel is pain. All I feel is like there is no life behind these bones. It's like having a really bad flu, mixed with walking at a theme park or working on retail on your feet for 5 days straight with no reprieve after slumber or rest. It sucks.

People want a Peppermint Patty story to read. They want to hear the positives and the growth lessons and they want to feel like it's not that bad. I have to tell you, that good does not come unless the bad is shared. I won't lie to you or pretend that it's no big deal. That is false, that is prideful for me to hide the truth. I do not want your pity. Do not feel sorry for me. It is what it is. My intent in sharing the struggles as well as the growth moments is so that you will be able to understand that the victory is sweet only because of the turmoil, and there is a lot of victory.

Today is just a day, and each morning I wake up I hope and pray that Fibromyalgia and these viral infections and all of it will just be gone. That I will be healthy and able-bodied and able to work or go to school or play with children without repercussion again. That day has yet to come. Instead, I have the opportunity to learn and change and stretch spiritually in ways I never thought possible.

I mentioned in the previous post that God has been showing me a lot of things. Things about my own selfishness these last 2 years. It was necessary. I had nothing to give, but that season is transcending into the higher call to love unselfishly again, live unselfishly again, and to give myself away again. I was praying and asking God how He could still love me and bless me, and marveling at how as sucky as some things have been these 2 years, He has also blessed me in abundance. He was showing me all the many teachers in my life.... the faces of precious people who have been life lines of prayer and texting and encouragement. Even last night after my beastly behavior I received a glorious text from an old friend who spoke into my life and thanked me for loving her. Thanked me?! Then another friend and sister in the Lord messaged me on FB and said she loves me. Coincidence? NO way. The God of the universe used those messages to remind me that He is still using me, working through me despite my uglies, despite my health. That it's not about me, me, me. It's about giving away the love He has deposited in my heart that is huge and limitless. It was even more timely as I had just journaled that sweet, sweet revelation the night before. That I merited my success on my to-do's and what I had to offer by way of jobs and whatnot, but that is not my call. My call is to love. My call is to be so full of the Father that it pours out around me. LOVE. I also wore a night gown last night that coincidentally displayed that word like a banner. Aaron pointed it out to me as I sat sniffling after the attack. He had no idea what God had spoken into my spirit. So it went: revelation, attack, night gown, text, and then message. All LOVE. I was reminded that God doesn't need me to be perfect. I knew that but now I feel I know it just a bit more. He is taking my weaknesses.... my bad moods, my flesh, my imperfection, my pride, my limited capacity to understand all of this, and He is still moving. He brought me cross country in a car, gave me the gift of seeing the Grand Canyon, gave me the bond and love of a sweet child, blessed me with the beautiful gift of living in Glen Cove last year with the gorgeous water and bridge view and the trains going by with their musical sound. If He could do all that as I struggled through this, He most certainly can still bring me to Paris like I've always dreamed. He most certainly can bring me back to the Philippines. He is God. He is good and He is involved. Wow.

When I was praying the other night of all of these revelations I was thanking Him for the teachers in my life... the people, the places, the life... all of them teachers. I was thinking about how I have often times felt isolated and very sad and yet I have people tethered to me. People who lift me up, people who love me, people whose texts and well wishes and support have never once diminished. I got this glimpse of His people- all bound eternally together in His blood. Whoa, such a thrilling understanding. And I asked Him there in the garage, "how can you still love me? How can you love me even though I can be so angry? So selfish?" And the roar and whisper came, "Because you are mine." Over and over in my heart, "you are mine." And all I could do was cry in gratitude and awe. I belong to the God of the entire universe. I belong to Him. There is nothing I can do, nothing I can say that will make Him stop loving me so fiercely. From birth to life God is my only constant companion. Spouses and friends and loved ones will die. Experiences will come and go, but God is with me ever always. Doesn't that just blow your mind?! That God takes our messy, muddy tracks and still says, "You are so beautiful. You are still special to me. I can take your bad mood. I can take your anger. I can take your tears. Cry, yell, be sad, but come to Me." It took someone to tell me I had changed. Someone I hadn't seen in a long time. It stung. It made me recoil in pride and anger within. And then I mused on it. Yes, I have changed. Sickness, trial, life will do that. But I love change. I want to always be changing! I don't want to be the Janet of yesterday, I don't even want to be the Janet of now. I want to keep evolving, keep transforming, keep loving, keep giving. I was made to be a giver. I love serving, I love helping people. Fibro has made that almost impossible at times. Because of a comment meant to be negative I was able to face the reality that I had become quite grim. Understandable.... lots of change has occurred these last 2 years. Friends lost and gained, health a yo yo, medical treatments, the divorce of people close to me- dividing the home we all shared, leaving behind the child I've been with since she was born, moving, becoming poor and going on food stamps to get by, losing the job I loved so much, deaths, etc. So much. I was grim. It tends to happen that way around other people because everyday is survival mode. It takes immense concentration and effort to just do what comes naturally.... play, laugh, have conversations. Anyhow, in recognizing the rudeness and selfishness I was expending I remembered my call to give myself away. To choose others before myself. Oh, what a challenge when chronically ill!

I've been having wild dreams lately. God speaks to me a lot through dreams, and my psyche has been getting quite the workout lately. I love it! All of these issues are being dealt with in dream form, and I am able to take what I remember from them, pray on it, and ask for change and release. It's pretty exciting. I love dreams!

One huge realization is that I have been approaching God like I used to before I understood that grace is free. That once we are His we are His forever. Some pent up feelings came out, ones I had no idea I had. I cried and confessed that I felt like He was punishing me. I'm supposed to be His favorite (we all are) and I felt like if He loves me so much why have I been so sick? Now, I know why. I know that it is a blessing to share in His sufferings. I know that there is a purpose and that God is making beauty from ashes. Logically I know that, but lost in the realm of prayer, I just realized how although I prayed, although I am close to Papa, I was also approaching Him as if He is punishing me. Walking on eggshells and not conversing nearly as much as I used to, afraid of the silence at times. I started to think of God as the people in my life. Keeping me in the family, providing for me, loving me, but almost as if He was shunning me. I know that is not true, but emotions and the enemy pushed me into this box and I did not know it existed.

Acceptance has been in process for awhile. I take steps back sometimes- denial or anger, etc. I feel like a bird newly hatched or something. Like life is this new, fragile place because it's being lived in a way I've never lived. It's like 2 Janet's fighting and only one version gets to survive. I'm ready for some changes. I'm ready to re-focus and spend more time and energy on relationships I do have. I don't want that old version (before Fibro) but I definitely don't want to stay as the me I've been these last 2 years. Somewhere in the middle would be nice.

The thing is, I love people. So that spirit of complaint I've sullied in has got to go. I love texting. I love helping. I've wrestled with letting that part of myself go, but now I embrace it. LOVE. What an amazing gift! God has given me the joy and ability to love. I want to relish in that versus continually feeling burdened by the emotional demands of others. I still miss Mylie every single day, I still wish I wasn't sick, but I think I'm nearly done mourning my old life. The nannying, the old church. I'm ready to move on. Those relationships are still precious and active and a part of me. I will always love and be there for "my flock" but it's way overdue for me to start looking ahead and only ahead.

I am only 31 years old. I would always think, "Oh gosh! I am already 31. I'm old." But that's not true at all. I'm still young, I can still travel. If God can bring me cross country in a car then I CAN go to Paris someday. Albeit I will have difficulties and need to allot for my condition, but the value is that it is so possible. Everything used to feel impossible. Everything used to feel dismal. Everyone else having a life and me just sitting. Now I see the adventure that I've been given. I have sicknesses that allow me to pause. Before I steamrolled ahead every single day and rarely stopped to breathe, to rest, to delight in the moment. God is doing a work and it's not finished. I am still in the game. For a long time I felt like I just gave up. I felt like I was disappearing. I cannot even fully describe or understand or remember every single step that has brought me here. I long for Mylie, but I don't long for California. Home is wherever God has me, and ultimately any and all earthly homes I dwell within are only preparing me for my eternal home in heaven.

Like I mentioned above, I have many teachers and that has been one of the hugest blessings of all. I have not truly ever been alone. God has given me SO much. Books, friends, words, family, children. All of these essential and fundamental in this journey to wellness. Oh, the miles still seem so long, but now I march onward with purpose and new vision. To love, to give unselfishly, and yet not forgetting to be taken care of myself this time.

I'm scuffed up, worse for the wear, but strong. The strength of my King runs through these earthly veins. I am an heir to the God of the universe. The freaking universe.

My success is not measured by how many children I can bear or if I have a wedding ring on my finger, if I have a car or take vacations. It's not measured by how many friends I have in real life or on FB. It's not something that I have to strive for in the way that I once thought long ago. It's mind-boggling how we can be so enlightened and yet so naive sometimes. My success is in how I love. My success is in how I give my life away. WOW.

Even as I pray or journal I can get distracted. I want to pull away from that secret place with God and start blogging or sharing what He is speaking over me before He is even finished. Why? Even if no one else were to ever know those things, God has still revealed them to me. If I were stranded on an island or stuck in the pit of a physical grave, those insights would still matter. In this day of technology and posting our entire lives on numerous social networking sites, I believe much of the intimacy is lost between us and God, us and friends, us and and ourselves. We give so much away. That is not bad, but for me, I know that staying in His presence is more important to me then updating my status on FB.

Me and God. God and me. My one true, forever companion.

1 Corinthians 4:7-13
The Message (MSG)
For who do you know that really knows you, knows your heart? And even if they did, is there anything they would discover in you that you could take credit for? Isn't everything you have and everything you are sheer gifts from God? So what's the point of all this comparing and competing? You already have all you need. You already have more access to God than you can handle. Without bringing either Apollos or me into it, you're sitting on top of the world—at least God's world—and we're right there, sitting alongside you!

It seems to me that God has put us who bear his Message on stage in a theater in which no one wants to buy a ticket. We're something everyone stands around and stares at, like an accident in the street. We're the Messiah's misfits. You might be sure of yourselves, but we live in the midst of frailties and uncertainties. You might be well-thought-of by others, but we're mostly kicked around. Much of the time we don't have enough to eat, we wear patched and threadbare clothes, we get doors slammed in our faces, and we pick up odd jobs anywhere we can to eke out a living. When they call us names, we say, "God bless you." When they spread rumors about us, we put in a good word for them. We're treated like garbage, potato peelings from the culture's kitchen. And it's not getting any better.

*******
Today is a bad physical day. I feel trapped in my body. Nauseated. Heart palpitations. So exhausted in every limb, my brain is slow, I am frustrated, and still my heart can sing and soar because I am His.

And any day I can say that is a good day indeed.

<3