Tag Archives: Hope

No Turning Back, No Turning Back

no turning back

Photo Credit: Roost Photography

“What if I wasn’t created with love and intent for a specific purpose? What if I really am just an abnormality explained by science… essentially, a cosmic mistake? There’s a mystery behind being known and understood that gives life meaning.”

I wrote out these words at 1 am as I sat crying silently in my bathroom and let myself travel down the mental path of questioning what my life would look like if I truly believed those first two statements.

It was frightening. It looked like despair. A life void of value. Complete, unending darkness that would swallow me. It looked like death.

But I needed to sit in it. I needed to let myself go there and feel that in it’s completeness. I needed to find out if God’s love was deep enough and wide enough to cradle those questions.

Surprisingly, after all the pain that I’ve experienced, I never had questioned that God allowed the formation of my spine to stop at L5, leading to permanent life long damage of a clump of some of the most important and delicate nerves in my body. I had always just accepted it.

Recently, I uttered a phrase to a friend who is hoping in her journey with singleness. I said, “You know what your life would look like if you abandoned your belief that God is good and has a purpose in all of this. But you don’t know what it will look like if you keep trusting him. There’s hope in that.”

I realized that I’ve played this mantra over and over silently in my mind but had never given a voice to it.

know what my life would look like if I abandoned my faith in Jesus. I would be angry and cynical about my pain. I would be self-centered, my faith would rest solely in doctors and my identity would be my disease. I would use alcohol and cutting to numb the emotions that I didn’t have the mental strength to process. I would make all my decisions based on my feelings. I may have not even had the opportunity to write this because in a moment of mental exhaustion, I likely would have chosen suicide.

I’m in the middle of a 30 week seminary class titled “Biblical Theology and Interpretation”. Every Monday night, I leave the class feeling like my mind is going to explode from information but what  I am learning about how to study the Bible and about the Bible itself,  are life changing.

This weekend we looked at how to deal with doubt and hard teachings in the Bible. We focused on John 6: 48-69

“I am the bread of life. Your fathers ate the manna in the wilderness, and they died. This is the bread that comes down from heaven, so that one may eat of it and not die. I am the living bread that came down from heaven. If anyone eats of this bread, he will live forever. And the bread that I will give for the life of the world is my flesh.

The Jews then disputed among themselves, saying, “How can this man give us his flesh to eat?”

So Jesus said to them, “Truly, truly, I say to you, unless you eat the flesh of the Son of Man and drink his blood, you have no life in you. Whoever feeds on my flesh and drinks my blood has eternal life, and I will raise him up on the last day. For my flesh is true food, and my blood is true drink. Whoever feeds on my flesh and drinks my blood abides in me, and I in him. As the living Father sent me, and I live because of the Father, so whoever feeds on me, he also will live because of me. This is the bread that came down from heaven, not like the bread the fathers ate, and died. Whoever feeds on this bread will live forever. Jesus said these things in the synagogue, as he taught at Capernaum.

When many of his disciples heard it, they said, “This is a hard saying; who can listen to it?”

But Jesus, knowing in himself that his disciples were grumbling about this, said to them, “Do you take offense at this? Then what if you were to see the Son of Man ascending to where he was before? It is the Spirit who gives life; the flesh is no help at all. The words that I have spoken to you are spirit and life. But there are some of you who do not believe.” (For Jesus knew from the beginning who those were who did not believe, and who it was who would betray him.) And he said, “This is why I told you that no one can come to me unless it is granted him by the Father.”

After this many of his disciples turned back and no longer walked with him.

So Jesus said to the Twelve, “Do you want to go away as well?”

Simon Peter answered him, “Lord, to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life, and we have believed, and have come to know, that you are the Holy One of God.” 

If you’re familiar with the Bible, imagine being the Jews and hearing Jesus say this for the first time. They would not have had his death on the cross and Resurrection to put it into context. They would have had no idea of our modern tradition of communion. This all would have been gross and confusing. It’s not surprising that the response of MANY of his followers was to “turn(ed) back and no longer walk(ed) with him.

I love Simon Peter’s response to Jesus’s question, though, “Do you want to go away as well?” He doesn’t reply, “Of course not! I totally get everything you just said and I’m in it to win it, no questions asked!”. Rather, Peter’s response suggests that he had thought about turning away and if he did, to whom he would turn to…and he was one of Jesus’s best friends!

But ultimately, Peter chooses to stay because of everything he had “come to know”. A better translation of this would be because of everything he had learned over time…the time he had spent living with Jesus. He had seen and heard enough truth to believe that Jesus was “the Holy One of God.”. Did he doubt? yes. Did he lack understanding and probably think some of what Jesus said was hard to accept and a little crazy? yes. Did he think about turning back to his former life and job as a fishermen? yes. But he knew enough to know that going forward with Jesus was filled with more hope than turning back.

I know what God has done in my life up to this point. I know what my life would look like without his death on the cross and Resurrection from the grave. I know enough to continue clinging to my faith.

As I continue to have increasing pain and disheartening diagnosis’, I have found myself humming this familiar tune;

“I have decided to follow Jesus;
I have decided to follow Jesus;
I have decided to follow Jesus;
No turning back, no turning back.

The world behind me, the cross before me;
The world behind me, the cross before me;
The world behind me, the cross before me;
No turning back, no turning back.

Though none go with me, still I will follow;
Though none go with me, still I will follow;
Though none go with me, still I will follow;
No turning back, no turning back.

My cross I’ll carry, till I see Jesus;
My cross I’ll carry, till I see Jesus;
My cross I’ll carry, till I see Jesus;
No turning back, no turning back.”

This video shows the story God has given me. It was created and used by my home church, Elmbrook and I hope you are encouraged by it. Video filmed and edited by Matt Roth.

Much love,

Adri

 

 

 

 

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Keep Going

Hand pressing Keep Going“You gain strength, courage and confidence by every experience in which you really stop to look fear in the face…You must do the thing you think you cannot do.” -Eleanor Roosevelt

This quote rings true with so many areas in my life right now, whether it be our journey into fostering, continuous struggles with my health or simply the courage to make various decisions that I know in my heart are the right (but not easy!) ones to make.

About a year ago I saw an orthopedic surgeon about pain that I experience in my right knee. It was nothing new but had been growing worse and so I was referred to him to look into it further. The belief was that due to the misalignment in my right leg, the joint was suffering damage, which could eventually lead to the need for a total knee replacement.

After gathering multiple X-Rays to try and determine if surgery could be done to correct the alignment in my leg, we were all quite astounded by the images that glowed back at us through the light box in his exam room.

The X-Rays showed leg bones that were strong, healthy and fully developed. The orthopedic surgeon, who has worked extensively with children at Shriners Hospital, was amazed at the a-typical results from a patient with my condition, Spina Bifida.

He further explained that his only conclusion for seeing such strength in my bones was owed to the fact that through everything I had never stopped using them. He said that when bone is stressed it actually in turn becomes stronger. It’s counter-intuitive thinking but we had the X-Rays to prove it.

“Bones are living tissue. Weight-bearing physical activity causes new bone tissue to form, and this makes bones stronger. Bones and muscles both become stronger when muscles push and tug against bones during physical activity.” -National Institute of Child Health and Human Development

Upon hearing his words, my mind immediately flashed back to countless times in the hospital after surgery where I had to “get up and walk” despite excruciating pain, to my parents instilling confidence in me by maintaining expectations for me to have the same household chores as my siblings, and then to my first week as a freshman in college in downtown Chicago. My apartment was only three to four city blocks from the EL (which took me to my classes) but to me it could have been three to four miles.

At the time, I wasn’t wearing any braces on my legs and each step felt like I had stepped in wet cement. That combined with the elements of weather made each trip to and from the brown line a mental and physical battle.

On each of those days, when life required me to get back on my feet and keep going, I often wondered if those activities might be the cause of me ultimately losing the function in my legs.

But here I was, years later, sitting and listening to a doctor tell me that those years could actually be attributed to making my legs stronger.

I can’t help but think about the direct correlation that this picture has to the rest of our lives. After all, the phrase “what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger” must exist for a reason, right?

I am constantly amazed at how God has created our physical bodies to reiterate the truths that He has laid out for us in His Word. Scripture repeatedly affirms this idea of suffering producing strength;

Romans 5:3-5 “More than that, we rejoice in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, and hope does not put us to shame, because God’s love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit who has been given to us.”

1 Peter 5:10 “And after you have suffered a little while, the God of all grace, who has called you to his eternal glory in Christ, will himself restore, confirm, strengthen, and establish you.”

James 1:2-4 “Count it all joy, my brothers, when you meet trials of various kinds, for you know the the testing of your faith produces steadfastness. And let steadfastness have its full effect, that you may be perfect and complete, lacking in nothing.”

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

2 Corinthians 12:10 “That is why, for Christ’s sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong.”

The solution to correcting this knee pain ended up being more complex than we originally thought it would, so that is a surgery that has been put on the “back burner” for now.

But I was reminded of the important mystery of God’s redemption in the midst of pain;  that if we keep going in the midst of the suffering on this earth, God promises to bring strength to our soul.

-Adri


Plodding in the Desert

Hope Coloring Page

I’ve been spending time in the desert lately. Things have felt dry and parched and starving for refreshment. I’ve traveled this terrain enough times to know that there is purpose in it, but it doesn’t make the journey any easier.

Since the beginning of this year, I’ve felt a shift. That’s the only way I can describe it. Something is different with my health, but I can’t put it into words. My body feels tired all the time and it’s really hard to process that. I’ve shared these feelings with a few close friends and Chris (of course) but it’s made it difficult to write. I’ve needed a lot of me and Jesus time, with no other voices involved.

I’d like to tell you that I’ve sorted things out, but I haven’t. God’s given me a few incredible gifts along the way…things I think he knew I’d need to keep on pressing on.

One thing I do know is that along with this “shift” has come an even greater urgency for me to share with you how real God can be in your life and how very much he is needed.

It’s been a tough year so far with my health. I shared in my last post about complications with an infection in my foot. Shortly after that, I took a hard fall to polished concrete at my favorite restaurant on a date night with Chris. Ironically, Chris was about the only person in the restaurant to NOT see me fall. After a few weeks of feeling as if I’d been hit by a bus, I went in for X-rays to check out (what I thought) were cracked or bruised ribs. It turned out that I had a compression fracture in my vertebrae just below my fusion in my thoracic spine. The assumption is that is happened because of the fall, but much like a cracked rib, the only pathway to healing was time and rest. Months of time and rest.

Which brought us to the end of March in which Chris and I took a belated Anniversary trip to Puerto Rico. The warmer weather and steady climate did wonders for my pain, but the endless hours to lay around on the beach and “think” were a surprise I hadn’t bargained for. Finally on the last night of our trip, over an amazing dinner, I apologized to Chris for being so quiet the whole week (my timing is impeccable, I know). I told him the more I tried to figure out why I was so introspective, the more introspective it had made me. (Introspective is a fancy word for quiet and boring).

And then it hit me; this was the first time Chris and I had done a beach vacation…just the two of us, no family or friends…in five years. And in five years, my body has changed a lot. I had a major spine surgery that changed my entire neurological makeup along with shortening me an inch (still peeved about that one…) and an ileostomy bag placed. So to go on a vacation where you’re pretty much living in a bathing suit 24/7, was hard on me. I felt self-conscious and embarrassed (for Chris) the whole time. I was frustrated that I had to use my wheelchair so much, because getting around at the pool without my leg braces is hard and dangerous. The stares bothered me more on this trip than they ever had before. And it bothered me that it bothered me.

puerto rico

And it hit me afresh like a tidal wave that my health is not getting any better, but in fact is getting worse.

I keep having this re-occurring nightmare where I show up at the office of my Neurologist. In my dream he’s a faceless individual…older, kind…but I never am actually called into be seen by him. The dream progresses (they improved the elevator in one of them…) and I see him in the waiting room, or at a coffee shop in the hospital lobby, but I never hear his diagnosis of me and I never actually get real clinic time with him.

It’s troublesome to me and I think it probably has to do with a pending appointment I have with a new local neurologist here in Milwaukee in June. I’ve had the appointment scheduled for several months now, after my primary doctor urged me to find someone to look into a tremor that I’ve developed. They think it’s further autonomic dysfunction due to my deteriorating nervous system, but it would be good to rule out any other neurological causes (MS, fibromyalgia, parkinsons, etc.).

And I think that’s when I start to come full circle about this “shift” I’m feeling. I think part of this shift is that I no longer have a great desire to figure all this out. I’ve gotten to a point where a diagnosis is just a name. I know there is no solution, no cure, and so it all seems so futile to me. But I have this internal wrestling going on inside because I would never want Chris or Promise or anyone that I love to think that I didn’t try my hardest to live the longest, healthiest life I could.

And so that is a small window into what my desert has looked like lately. Ironically, all of this comes after giving a talk titled “The Battle for Hope- How to Keep Getting Up When You Get Kicked Down” at our Church, Elmbrook, in early March. How I’ve listened to my own advice over and over and over. I’ve repeatedly told myself that it’s not about feeling God, but knowing the truth of God. It’s about making a choice to keep plodding along, even on the hardest, driest days….that somehow God will not let that go in vain.

I was laying in bed last Sunday night, Chris silently sleeping beside me. My health and the future of my health felt like a weight on my chest and I was silently trying to muffle my sobs. I felt a nudge from the Holy Spirit to get out of bed and get on my knees by my bedside. Again, I knew it was God’s spirit because it’s not a thought that would naturally come from my human-ness. I mean getting on my knees is hard for me. It hurts. My left foot is at a permanent 90 degree angle, so it’s uncomfortable. Really awkward.

After a few moments of wrestling in my head with whether or not I was actually going to do this, I slipped out of bed and onto the floor. And I wept. And I surrendered my health to God, afresh…asking him to take it all. As I crawled into bed I had the most incredible peace where the heaviness had been. I wanted to read my bible but it was down in my car, so I opened up the bible app on my phone. Apparently the last time I had been reading it had something to do with looking up the verse we named Promise after; Psalm 145:13 NIV.

As my eyes read through verse 13 and into verse 14, my breathe caught in my throat. I had never paid attention to the verse following “her” verse but it read:

“The LORD upholds all who fall and lifts up all who are bowed down.”

I know that no matter what lies in front of me, or for however long this desert period lasts, God will lift me up if I continue to bow my life to him.

-Adri


Desiring the Healer more than the Healing

dandelion

One of the hidden gifts of suffering is empathy or “the ability to understand and share the feelings of another”. As my physical body continues to deteriorate and lose feeling, my heart becomes stronger and more sensitive. It’s a beautiful contradiction that shows, once again, how God is working out all things for the good of those who love him (Romans 8:28).

This empathy isn’t reserved only for people who are presently intertwined in my life. It gushes out whenever I hear or read about someone who has or is experiencing physical pain similar to mine.

Since the Bible is filled with stories of broken, pain-filled people, I’ve discovered that empathy plays a key role in scripture becoming personal to me.

I was reading in Acts 3, a story that I’ve read several times without feeling any emotional attachment to. This chapter chronicles the story of a crippled beggar who is miraculously healed during his encounter with the true Healer, through the apostle Peter. You can read it below for yourself;

“Now a man crippled from birth was being carried to the temple gate called Beautiful, where he was put every day to beg from those going into the temple courts. When he saw Peter and John about to enter, he asked them for money. Peter looked straight at him, as did John. Then Peter said, ‘Look at us! ‘So the man gave them his attention, expecting to get something from them. Then Peter said, ‘Silver or gold I do not have, but what I have I give you, In the name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth, walk.’ Taking him by the right hand, he helped him up, and instantly the man’s feet and ankles became strong. ” Acts 3:2-7

As I read through this story again, my heart caught in my throat at that last phrase… “instantly the man’s feet and ankles became strong.

My feet and ankles have not looked or functioned normally since I was about eight years old. The appearance of my feet in the past few years would send a “normal” person racing to the ER. I have a very limited amount of sensation in them and an even more limited amount of motion. I have poor circulation, so most of the time, my feet are a purple-ish blue color and cold to the touch. I have periodic neuropothy (similar to a diabetic foot), arthritis from previous operations, scars, and occasional nerve pain that is so intense it will cause my entire autonomic nervous system to overreact, leading to severe muscle cramping all over my body, numbness, headaches, etc.

feet

To put it simply, they are a burden. About two weeks ago, they became even more of a burden when I developed a tiny crack in the dry skin on my left heel. We had a cold snap up here in WI and temps were in the double negatives for a few days. This sudden drop in temperature caused the skin on my heel to crack open, which is not uncommon. However, because I cannot feel pain in that foot, I wasn’t aware of the crack. One morning I woke up and my foot felt different…different than my normal. My ankle felt like it had been bit by something and was having an allergic reaction. It felt hot and stiff and as the day progressed, the redness, swelling, and stiffness only increased.

Once I discovered the crack and realized what was actually going on, I knew that I needed to have it looked at immediately. While a crack like this in a normal foot would be painful and a nuisance at most, in my feet I knew it could quickly spiral into an infection that could put me in the hospital, surgery, or even an amputation if it wasn’t treated early enough.

After obtaining a last minute appointment with a local podiatrist and confirming through X-Ray that the infection had not spread into my bones or muscles, I was put on 24-48 hours of bed rest and two strong oral antibiotics, with the back-up plan of going to the ER for IV antibiotics if there wasn’t immediate improvement. Thankfully my body wasn’t resistant to the oral antibiotics (a risk because of how often I am on them for UTI’s from self-catheterizing) and the infection began to subside.

While the infection cleared, I began to have burning and stinging around my stoma (the opening in my abdomen where my small intestine “hangs out”). Since my digestive system now gets rid of waste before it goes through my colon, everything comes out in a semi-digested, watery state. The colon is what absorbs the majority of water and left-over nutrients, so when waste comes out of my stoma, there are still active digestive enzymes that can eat away the flesh on my abdomen. My body has adapted to this change, but when the oral antibiotics began to flush through, it aggravated my skin creating a 1/4″ of raw, open skin around my stoma. Needless to say it hurt quite a bit. It also made it difficult for my bag adhesive to stick, so while my infection was clearing, I now had a new issue at hand to deal with. On top of all of this, my right heel developed a crack in the skin as well.

All of this, because of something that is so “normal” for most people.

I tell you all of this in order to give you a glimpse into why I suddenly connected with this crippled man whose feet and ankles had failed him.

Out of empathy, I could imagine his excitement as he felt warm blood rush through his veins and strength surge into his feet that had felt “dead” for so long. But even more than that, I know the prolonged joy that would have come over him because not only did he experience healing, but he encountered the Healer himself.

Singer/Songwriter Natalie Grant had the lyrics to one of her songs in one of her Instagram posts. It said,

“Help me want the Healer more than the healing, Help me want the Savior more than the saving, Help me want the Giver more than the giving, Help me want You, Jesus, more than anything.”

Through this man’s story and because of the empathy I had toward him, God nudged me with a truth that I needed to be reminded of. God wants me to know Him and desire the healing of my soul more than the healing of my body. No, it’s not wrong to want physical healing, and I am so thankful that my feet are beginning to heal. But that can’t be my focus.

If you look back to the first few verses in this story it says, “When he saw Peter and John about to enter, he asked them for money. Peter looked straight at him, as did John. Then Peter said, ‘Look at us!’. “

This crippled beggar noticed Peter and John come into the temple, but his gaze must have shifted from their faces downward to the earthly possessions he could get from them, because Peter tells him to look at them. I imagine that he was also looking down, ashamed of what he was. I think Peter wanted the man to look at him in order to see the power of the risen Christ that was living in him. He knew that ultimately that is what the man needed in order to be healed and to restore his dignity.

So often, I let my gaze shift downward and I forget that growing my relationship with Jesus is my ultimate goal.

If you continue reading Acts chapter 3 and into Chapter 4, you come to verse 4 that says,

“But many who heard the message believed and the number of men grew to about five thousand.” Acts 4:4

The “message” that this verse is referring to is the message of the gospel that Peter and John were able to then share with the people who “were astonished and came running to them…” as a result of  witnessing the miraculous healing in this beggar’s life.

If this man had refused to shift his gaze upward to Peter and John, he may have encountered a small amount of money…maybe enough to buy a meal to temporarily satisfy his hunger…but he would have missed the opportunity to encounter the Holy Spirit who would reset the entire course of his life and in turn, touch five thousand more hearts that day.

I don’t want to miss an opportunity like that because I’m looking down.

Do you?

-Adri


Chronic Hope

JBUWinter15cover-a

(Printed in the Winter 2015 Issue of Just Between Us Magazine)

When you live with or love someone with a chronic illness, you soon learn that it requires you to make a plethora of unending decisions. When you reach the “D” section in your phonebook, the list of doctors seems endless. Some of these doctors are even programmed into your speed dial. Maintaining a “baseline” is important so there are tests and procedures that have to be repeated year after year after year. You experience physical pain week after week after week. There are questions and emotions that you have to battle day after day after day and sometimes moment after moment after moment.

 

Living with a chronic illness is exhausting. By definition it is constant, ceaseless, persistent, and unending.

 

One of the most challenging things for me about living with Spina Bifida is how many areas of my body it has affected. It affects my bladder, kidneys, bowels, legs, feet, nerves, and muscles. Recently it has begun to affect my neck and brain. I routinely see a neurologist, neurosurgeon, podiatrist, urologist, gastroenterologist, and physical therapist. On occasion I’ll see a shunt specialist, hematologist, and orthopedic surgeon. If I’m bored I’ll see my primary doctor.

 

Let me assure you that I know how exhausting it is. Especially when I stop to consider the fact that despite all of these appointments, there is no cure for my condition. Unless God decides in his infinite wisdom to heal my physical body, I will never “get better”. At most, I can attempt to maintain my current health for as long as possible.

 

This would be so depressing if it stopped right here.

 

But it doesn’t. God has provided a way for us, in chronic illness, to have chronic hope.

 

You see, God will use pain to develop you, but he never meant for it to define you. I have found that the days that I feel the most hopeless about my health are the days that I let my suffering become my sole focus. My whole purpose in living becomes wrapped up in trying to cure it, trying to maintain it, or trying to dull it.

 

On these days I have to take a step back and remind myself that God has created me to be so much more than that. I have to re-read passages in my Bible that fill me up with the hope that God is using all of this for something much bigger than I can understand. One of the things that I love about Jesus’ life is how he specifically chose people suffering with physical disabilities in order to display to the onlookers that he was the Messiah they had been waiting for. These broken lives mattered greatly to him and they became his tools in which his glory and power shone brightly. If you’re hurting today, my prayer is that that brings you so much hope and encouragement!

 

Not only does God promise to use your pain on a large scale, but he desires to use it in a very personal way too. He wants it to become the tool with which he molds you into a person that reflects everything about his character.

 

What would that look like? It would look like a person that is thankful for their doctors, patient with their caretakers, loving toward their family, and even joyful during their colonoscopy. It would look like a person who shows gratitude about the function they do have rather than grumbling about their limitations. It would be a person who cries tears of deep pain, all the while knowing peace is not based on the feelings contrived by their reality, but rather on the truth that God has laid out in the Bible.

 

It’s a person that I have begun to ask God to make me into. It’s a person who’s living with chronic hope.

 

2 Corinthians 4:16-17 says, “Therefore we do not lose heart. Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day. For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all.”

-Adri

To order Just Between Us Magazine, visit www.justbetweenus.org

 

 

 


Resolutions- “Whatever’s in front of me, I’ll choose to sing Hallelujah”

iPhone 762My “stats” page just informed me that it’s been three months since I posted a new blog entry here.

It doesn’t surprise me. I’ve been talking…crying is more like it… with God about a few things and have purposefully avoided writing. Not because I am scared to let you see into my brokenness, but because ultimately, what God has to say about it is what matters.

Sometimes I need to just stop and be quiet and listen to that voice inside of me that I know is God-breathed, because nothing in and of my human-ness would have formulated that thought in my head.

Promise came home from school, after returning from Christmas break, and announced (while standing on her chair, as she does with most of her “announcements”) that while discussing what “resolution” meant at school, she told her whole class what my New Years Resolution was.

My heart started racing. I broke out in a cold sweat as I frantically replayed in my mind, every resolution that I had mindlessly rattled off (serious or otherwise) over the past week. I’m not big on New Years Resolutions, but I am big on jokingly making them up.

Oops.

(Lesson learned. Promise is more social in class than I thought she was. I have no idea where she gets that.)

After coming up empty on what Promise could have possibly shared with her entire class, my anxiety was calmed as she said, “Oh you know Mommy, the one about getting an alarm clock and not keeping your phone on your nightstand.” *Cue a collective sigh of relief*

As is evidenced by the time stamp on this post, I am failing horribly at this “no electronics in the bedroom” resolution.

In the days and weeks that have followed that announcement, God and I have been having some more serious hear-to-heart talks about resolutions.

I’m not sure if it’s the fact that in 2 minutes I am turning 31, or if subconsciously my body just knows that it’s getting tired, but the weight of my health has been unusually heavy at the start of this new year.

I’ve struggled more than I ever have before with seeing friends and acquaintances experience physical healing in their lives, while my situation remains unchanged…if not worse. I’ve silently cried out the, “but why not me, God?” question repeatedly in my head.

If anything, I feel like my faith in God’s power to heal me is more confident now than it has ever been.

And the only answer that I’ve gotten is that that is not God’s plan for my life right now. Is he capable? Yes. The same power that raised Jesus from the dead, now lives in me. Of course he is capable. I believe that with my whole heart.

As my friend, Jill, so wisely shared with me a few months back; God has healed me. I can’t think of myself as being excluded from his healing. He’s healed me to the point that he knows I needed to be healed in order to accomplish his purpose for my life.

I am alive. I am walking. I still have my legs, as cumbersome as they may be. That is all a certain extent of healing that God has allowed to take place in my life.

It’s just not healing on my terms. Which is where faith and resolve come in.

The lyrics of this song by Bethany Dillon hit me hard the other day as the spilled out from my Pandora station while driving;

“Who can hold the stars
And my weary heart?
Who can see everything?

I’ve fallen so hard
Sometimes I feel so far
But not beyond your reach

I could climb a mountain
Swim the ocean
Or do anything
But it’s when you hold me
That I start unfolding
And all I can say is

Hallelujah, hallelujah
Whatever’s in front of me
Help me to sing hallelujah
Hallelujah, hallelujah
Whatever’s in front of me
I’ll choose to sing hallelujah

The same sun that
Rises over castles
And welcomes the day

Spills over buildings
Into the streets
Where orphans play

And only you can see the good
In broken things
You took my heart of stone
And you made it home
And set this prisoner free

Hallelujah, hallelujah
Whatever’s in front of me
Help me to sing hallelujah
Hallelujah, hallelujah
Whatever’s in front of me
I’ll choose to sing hallelujah

Songwriters: Leonard Winston Dillon
© Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd.
And so as I step into another year of living with all of this, my resolve is that “whatever’s in front of me,  I’ll choose to sing hallelujah”.
-Adri

 

 


“That’ll be a great day…”

Tonight I’m writing out of a place of a lot of pain and hurt. I wish I could tell you that I’ve spent the day reveling in the joy of a flawless blood report, but that just wouldn’t be true. This is the part of living with a chronic condition that is so hard. It’s hard for me to try to formulate all of my thoughts into coherent sentences, but if I didn’t try, I’d only be sharing half-truths with you. I’d be attempting to make myself look stronger than I am, when the truth is right now, I feel crushed.

But I know God can use my crushed state of mind, too. It’s all or nothing and for some bizarre reason, I’ve chosen to share it all with you. Maybe it’s because I keep hearing over and over how God is using it to encourage those of you who are struggling with something that is chronic in your own life. It doesn’t change. There doesn’t even seem to be an end to it.

So for me not to share these feelings with you would make it out to seem like I am not human, that depression is not still a reality in my life, and that I don’t desperately want to be free from this stupid human body. (It’s not stupid. While I am so frustrated with it right now, I know deep down that my time here on earth in this body is a gift and a privilege.)

Let me explain why today was so hard, because I’m sure a few of you are completely bewildered right now at how I could be feeling all of this when I’ve just been told that I don’t have cancer.

This morning at my hematology appointment we received great news. A perfect echo of my heart and a stellar blood report. I’m healthy as a horse as far as my blood goes. This should be AWESOME, right?! Yes. And No. It’s complicated. Obviously, I don’t want to have Leukemia. I feel like I shouldn’t even have to say that, but I will, because I don’t want you to misread this next part of what I’m going to say.

Every time I start experiencing a new symptom and then the test results come back “normal”, it means another part of my “normal” function has died. And that is HARD.

It is hard to hear that these constant night sweats are most likely a result of my autonomic nervous system continuing to decline. It is even harder to hear that if that is indeed the case, there is no way to treat it. A part of my “normal” is dying. Again. And as I’ve said before, that takes some grieving time.

At this point, you might still be confused and asking, “Couldn’t there still be a possibility of a treatable bone infection?” Maybe. But after a few hours of phone calls this afternoon to doctors and nurses both in Chicago and here in Milwaukee, the verdict is leaning toward not doing a bone scan or looking for infection. The chances of an infection three years after surgery is almost unheard of. Plus, we’re lacking a lot of “concrete evidence” of a bone infection (as one nurse put it). I am not having fevers, the sore spot on my spine is not red or hot, etc. So where does that leave us? Exactly back at where I started when I walked into my Primary care doctor’s office one month ago; with a high likelihood that this is another ramification of a nervous system that is shot and worn out and continuing to fail.

And so that is what I’ve been sitting with this afternoon and evening. The heaviness of THAT. My antidepressants have made my mind function well enough for me to know that depression is hovering. I know the signs. My antidepressants are doing their job. They allow me the grieving time that I need, staying crumpled up in my bed, letting the painful reality of this new loss wash over me. By God’s grace and beautiful love, my mind is able to separate and sort out that it is OK to feel like this for a while, that it’s OK to fall asleep for six straight hours in the middle of the day, but that it’s also necessary for me to wake back up at some point, even though every part of my flesh would just like to be home, forever asleep, being comforted in the arms of my sweet Jesus.

If you’re in a place where your mind isn’t able to think like this or sort out these confusing feelings, please tell someone. I remember the place you’re at right now, and on nights like tonight, I’m very aware of the enormous difference that telling someone can make.

You need to know all of this because if you are in a really dark frame of mind right now, it is possible to move to a point where you realize it’s OK to feel the hurt without trying to numb it. And then from there you might be able to move to a place of realization that not only are you allowed to feel emotionally weak, but it’s a good thing because it allows God’s strength to be poured into your weakness. Your dark moments will probably always come and go, but you’ll start to get into a rhythm of mourning and then being filled up with God’s redeeming strength for tomorrow. It’s a process, but it IS possible.

Chris gave me the sweetest gift tonight. As he gathered my crumpled self into his arms, he simply said, “That will be a good day when you’re finally home, won’t it?…no, actually that will be a great day.”. All I could do was nod my head as warm tears spilled off my cheeks onto his head. He gave me the gift of knowing that he understands that this life is hard for me and that there is an eternity waiting for me that will be so much better.

But God chose to wake me up again and I know that while I’m exhausted, his constant mercy and goodness will be there in the morning. And so that’s what I find deep joy in. Not acing a blood report, but in the fact that the blood Jesus spilled for me on the cross is allowing me to wake back up again.

-Adri


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