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. =)

Mercies in Disguise

I've been going through a lot lately.  Emotionally, physically, and spiritually.  I'm stunningly aware of my vulnerability as I go through the emotions of a child with divorcing parents. I daily feel the ache and longing for love after a breakup. And some days that's enough to want to stay in bed, even if I didn't have to deal with my Fibro.

It's times like this I fully realize that I can't do it.  I am weak.  I am frail.  And there is no reason for me to think anything good could come from my future.  Except for one thing.  I know in all of this, God is holding my hand, guiding me, and even when it feels like I'm walking alone, like the Footprints in the Sand poem, those are the times He carries me.

One of the biggest ways God speaks to me is through music.  I had the most beautiful experience the other night.  I had spent most of the day crying.  I was in pain, everywhere, but mostly in my heart.  I found myself questioning God.  I cried out to Him, "What more do you want from me?!  I can't take anymore!"

That night, sobbing and with nothing left to do but pray and sleep, I turned on the radio like I do every night.  For 2 hours straight, song after song played that said exactly what I needed to hear.  It was like God programmed the radio just for me.  I felt Him say, "I'm sorry you are hurting.  But I am with you.  I won't leave you.  All your worries, all your fears, cast them on me.  You are my child and I will take care of you."

I cried, but not in anguish as I had that day.  My tears were tears of healing.  My God is my Comforter.  And that night, though there are 6 billion people in the world, I felt His undivided attention and love.

One song that I have been hearing everywhere lately is called "Blessings" by Laura Story.  It has been played everywhere, and I bought it and keep it on my phone just so I can listen to it when I need to.  I watched a video on YouTube where she explained the backstory of this song.  I love hearing the story behind songs and I could relate to this one.  The link is above, but to summarize, a year and a half into her marriage, her husband developed a brain tumor.  In faith, she and her husband pray for healing, but it doesn't come.  She has struggled with how to reconcile a God who allows such things to happen, but she says God is teaching her that sometimes He has to leave us broken so he can work through us in greater ways.

The story is similar to mine with fibromyalgia and so I can relate to it.  Perhaps that is why her song touches me so much.  I'll link the lyrics here.  In her song she asks, "What if your healing comes through tears? What if a thousand sleepless nights are what it takes to know you're near?"  I've been learning lately that it is not through the easy times in life that we learn or are perfected, but it is through our trials. In our suffering, God slowly, and yes, painfully, chips a little away here, smooths there.  All to make us more beautiful.  More like Him.

Philippians 1:6 For I am confident of this very thing, that He who began a good work in you will perfect it until the day of Christ Jesus. (NASB)

But we also have to remember that while God is making us more like Him, he does not do it remotely.  He is THERE with you.  He will comfort and guide you and He will never put on you more than you can bear.

2 Corinthians 1:2 For just as the sufferings of Christ are ours in abundance, so also our comfort is abundant through Christ. 

Psalm 34:10 The young lions do lack and suffer hunger;
But they who seek the Lord shall not be in want of any good thing. 

This isn't even the best part.  These things are good and we need to hear them.  We need to know that God doesn't abandon us when life becomes too difficult.  The best part, however, comes at the end of the song: 

When friends betray us, when darkness seems to win
We know the pain reminds this heart
That this is not, this is not our home
It's not our home

What if my greatest disappointments
Or the achings of this life
Is the revealing of a greater thirst
This world can’t satisfy?

Deep down, inside every person, is the longing - no, the desperation -  for more than this world can offer.  We are all homesick.  The human heart was made with a longing for heaven and nothing in this world can come close to what we need.

Romans 8:18 For I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worthy to be compared with the glory that is to be revealed to us.

How much greater will our homecoming be after the trials here on Earth?  I think we probably couldn't appreciate the greatness of heaven without enduring here in this world.  How much more will we enjoy the eternal, never-ending presence of God in our midst, day after day, having had the anticipation in this life?  What if all our trials, all our suffering, every person who hurts us, the guilt and fear and anger we feel, are indeed mercies in disguise, allowing God to prove to us that our faith is not empty?  What if this is just another way God make's himself known to us?

Like Laura Story sings, "What if the trials of this life are Your mercies in disguise?"

As always, I would appreciate any comments about my posts.  Thoughts, encouragement, and criticism are welcome.  I am constantly developing as a writer and as a child of God and I would love to hear from you.

I Stopped Praying for Healing

From a young age, my prayers have often been sprinkled with requests for healing.  When the pain gets really bad, that's when I pray for it the most.  As a teenager, going to a Christian school, when the teacher asked for prayer requests, I would always request healing for my knees (where it all began).

As time went on, the prayers for healing continued, yet no healing came.  I knew God was either saying "no" or "it's not time yet".  I think I always thought that with enough prayer, God would give me what I want.

But I'm done praying for healing.  It's not that I don't want to be healed, nor do I think God will never heal me.  But I've come to a powerful realization in the last few weeks.  In all my prayers, I asked for my will to be done, but never gave a thought about His.

So, I've resolved myself to a new prayer.  I'm praying that God will show me how I can use this situation for His glory.  I may never be rid of this pain, this trial, but just as Paul was given a thorn in his flesh, I believe I too have been given this for a reason.  I know as long as I have faith and allow God to use me in whatever way he can, I will be blessed despite my suffering.

I have always known  little things that got me through the worst of this.  God will never give me more than I can handle.  In God all things are possible. In my weakness, his strength is made perfect.  But I think I always applied those in hopes that I would be healed one day.  It wasn't until I started praying this new prayer that I found a new peace.  Perhaps by finally putting God's desires ahead of my own in this area, I opened a door for God to shower new blessings on me.

And healed or not, God has a plan for me.  Perhaps, gentle reader, you too have something you've been struggling with that you want more than anything for God to just take it away.  I hope this encourages you.  I truly believe there is a drastic change in us when we acknowledge God's will and desire it above our own.  Who knows how lives will be touched when we stop letting our desires get in the way of God using us for His purpose?

You Suck at Pessimism

Perusing some of my favorite web comics yielded this, today.  I guess I was a little surprised as XKCD is usually a techie, geeky, nerdy comic site.  But, as I've been spending days deciding what to write about, this was as good as anything for inspiration.

Like our protagonist here, I've found myself feeling scared about my illness.  I've run the gamut of emotions regarding my fibromyalgia.  When I was first diagnosed, there was an indescribable feeling of relief:  after years of trying to find out what was wrong and doctors just saying "lose weight", I had an answer.  I can remember before I was diagnosed, if I would have to leave someplace early because of my pain, I'd feel the need to explain it as "my knee is acting up" because that was the only answer I had ever had for my pain.  But truthfully, it wasn't usually my knee.  I'd go home in pain because of my neck or my back or something else.  But how could I say "I'm hurting too much from something and I have no idea why"?

So, having the answer lifted a huge weight off my shoulder.  Since then, I've experienced the highs and lows one would expect with a chronic illness.  The depression that's been around for about as long as my pain likes to rear its ugly head.  It's tough to fight off the feelings that I'm living with this for what will likely be several decades.  It's hard to shake the knowledge that as time goes by, my body will feel worse.  Worst is knowing that I disappoint people with what I can't do, no matter how much those people may understand.

The argument in the comic that it's all about having a good attitude is one that is easier said than done.  When you're looking at someone dealing with chronic pain, it's easy to say "Just have a positive outlook".  But when you're the one dealing with it, it's another thing altogether.  How do you have a positive outlook when you feel 40 years older than you are?  Where is the positive in losing your independence?

At some point, you come to the realization that the negative feelings never go away.  Until a cure is found, you will feel all the stages of grief again and again.  But, in my experience, usually at the end of all this you come to an even deeper realization of yourself.

You come out stronger, more sure of yourself.  You realize that you deal with this crappy disease and you're still alive.  You deal with the pain every day and yet still try to do as much of what you used to do as possible.  And in lots of ways, you end up better for your suffering.  You learn what and who is not worth your energy.  You return to the little things to keep busy.

And, although you have all the reason in the world to be great at it, you really suck at pessimism.