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I lay in bed. I lay in bed lots. Get well cards taped to my wall mock me. They are well-meaning, full of love and concern – yet the reason they’re there sometimes makes me want to tear them down. I don’t want a reminder. I don’t need a reminder.
I know the longer I lay the more depressed I get yet there are days I can’t make myself get up. Life is hard yet everyone has hard lives, sometimes harder. When taking our very first breath as each of us were born, our parents had no idea what was in store for us. They were young and full of hope that maybe, just maybe, their little girl or boy would be the next president or maybe discover the cure for cancer. Never once do they think, “My little girl, when she’s older, will go through great health struggles that will help point others to Jesus.”
Now I’m thinking – what about my life? What have I done? It’s a bitter pill to swallow. I get consumed in what I’m going through. I get overwhelmed with pain and then I get overwhelmed with guilt because of what my family has gone through because of me.
I swallow the bitter pill but I try not to become bitter. Oh, I do have my moments but they don’t last. I am very grateful that if someone has to suffer that it’s me, not my children, not my family, and not my friends.
Because of my sickness I’ve discovered myself. I’ve seen who I can be and how I can be. I’ve gone through surgery after surgery yet I keep going. I don’t give up, well, right now I can say, just maybe I’ve given up but I know it won’t be for long. My God is pushes me along and then carries me when I need that extra boost.
He’s also sent me incredible friends that I wouldn’t have met otherwise. If I was able to change the past – just if – would I change my sickness? It’s molded me into who I am. It’s made me compassionate for others. It’s made me love big and love big I do. If that makes some uncomfortable then I’m sorry but I’ve decided we’ve only got so many days on earth. Sometimes I truly wish my days were fewer but that isn’t for me to decide. Wow – I can’t even say I make the most of every day because I don’t. Some days I lie in bed, sometimes all day, and cry.
It makes my best friend upset when I tell her I’m all alone but when all is said and done – I am. It’s just God and I – He’s holding me, cradling me in His arms. I don’t always feel that gentle rocking, though. I want to feel it. I know He’s always with me but my feelings get in the way. I feel He’s not there but feelings are not faith. I want to feel His breath on my cheek as He leans down to kiss me on my forehead but I know that warm breath is there. I know in my knower that I know and that’s called faith. Faith is being certain of what I don’t see.
Some days I don’t see anything but my pain, misery, and depression. Other days I wake up ready to tackle the day. God-strong, a friend told me I am. Again, I don’t feel God- strong. I feel wimpy like a wet noodle yet God lifts me up and I do what has to be done.
And you know what? All is well with my soul. I have a place waiting for me in Heaven and when I finally get there – there will certainly be great rejoicing, but for now I live. I want to live no matter what pain I have to endure. I want to live. I will live. And I hope others see Jesus through my struggles. That is my ministry some days – just to live and live with hope so others can see and finally understand that when we are weak, that’s when God is strong in our loves. I want to be God-strong. I am God-strong. I will, until my dying days, be God-strong.
Are you?
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