Strength

Last November, I finally decided I couldn't work anymore. That was the most difficult decision I had to make about my illness. To me, not working was a sign of failure and weakness. It took a lot of people a lot of time to tell me otherwise and convince me to file for disability. Though I moved forward with it, I felt as if the strength I gained from working was lost.

I often had to work harder and be stronger to do things others could do with ease. Working was one of those things. I can remember days, a multitude of them, where I had to push myself to get through a work day. Sometimes I failed; I would have to go home early or stay home altogether, but I never beat myself up over it because I knew I had done my best. For the most part, though, I had built a successful working life, despite my struggles.

I could remind myself of my strengths because I knew that my struggles only made me stronger. Oh, how easy it would have been to just give in, but that's not who I am. In high school, when my knee kept me from being with the other cheerleaders, I cheered from the sidelines. When I fell behind my classmates at Magic Mountain or Disneyland, I pushed and struggled alone to catch up. Any time everything in me wanted to just give up, I never did. I was strong, stronger than anyone knew, because it took me twice the effort to do what everyone else could.

When I lost my ability to work, at least work enough to pay bills, I felt I no longer had that strength. I felt I lost my worth. How could I contribute anything to anyone if this part of everyone's life was something I could not do anymore? I know of people with exactly what I have, or more, who were able to work, and here I am, so young, and yet, incapable, inferior.

I cried so many tears in the fight to accept my limits. Friends and family can attest to the fact I did not want to quit. To this day, that pain lingers. But it allowed me something I never knew I needed. Losing the ability to work forced me to find my worth in something else: a God who formed me in my mother's womb, set each day ahead of me, and knew my every struggle, triumph, failure, and desire. This God reminded me time and time again that His strength is made perfect in MY weakness (2 Corinthians 12:9). He told me that I can do all things through HIM who gives me strength (Philippians 4:13).

It took losing my own strength to see that it is God who is my strength. My strength isn't dependent on how much I can work, or how hard I push myself, but on how much I rely on God. As I begin to see God's plan for my life in the things and people He is placing in my path, I realize that I needed to lose my vision of myself in order to depend on God and let Him mold me into the woman I am becoming.

I'm not even close to perfect about relying on God or letting Him judge my value and worth. But bit by bit, He is stripping away that which made me believe I could do it alone, that I didn't need help. Though it is painful, and I see but a scarred remnant of what I once was, I know God sees me becoming more beautiful and radiant as my life reflects His touch. I need to learn to see myself as God sees me, but He's working on that too. =)