Daughter, Your Faith Has Made You Well

To keep me from becoming conceited because of these surpassingly great revelations, there was given me a thorn in my flesh, a messenger of Satan, to torment me. Three times I pleaded with the Lord to take it away from me. But he said to me, "My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness." Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weakness, so that Christ's power may rest on me. - 2 Corinthians 12:7-9

Pain. Exhaustion. Insomnia. Itchy skin. Sensitive stomach. Swollen joints. Foggy brain.

These are my "thorns in the flesh." They are wrapped in the word Fibromyalgia. It's a succinct word, but a messy diagnosis. Some people don't believe it exists. Most people have a hard time understanding it. I don't blame them, because I often don't understand it. But today is Fibromyalgia awareness day, so I want to take a minute to tell you about my thorns.

I have always been Type A (read: control freak). I want to control every detail of a project, every minute of a day, and every person I encounter. I am self sufficient to a fault, and terribly at hiding my frustration. It's easy to tell when I am irritated, angry, and looking down on those around me. Let me be very frank - this did not earn me a lot of friends over the years, and I have hurt people around me because I wanted to make them perfect. I thought I was a perfectly acceptable Holy Spirit.

The Lord has chased after me my whole life, but for many years I gave him only small pieces of myself - the parts that didn't require a lot of sacrifice. I clung to my control until it choked me, cutting me off from any happiness and causing deep seated anxiety and depression. Each time something happened in my life I couldn't control, the Lord pleaded with me to give him my burden, but I turned as far away as I could, desperate to keep my control.

At the end of my freshmen year of college, I was a wreck, and I started having back pain that kept me confined to the couch. After a couple of doctor's appointments, I sat in a pain management exam room and cried as a doctor read from a pamphlet that described every ache and pain I felt when stressed and called it Fibromyalgia.

You would think that would have been my wake up call. An incurable, barely treatable condition that responded strongly to emotional and mental stress - I should have thrown myself at the Lord's feet and given him all my burdens. But I didn't. For three years, I ran from the Lord and just got sicker.

At the end of my junior year, I was done. My best friend and I had a falling out, my other closest friends were all graduating, I was going back to Memphis to a very frustrating relationship with my parents.

I went to church with my parents early in the summer, and during the time of prayer after communion, I just remember feeling true anguish. I told the Lord that I was done. I was done feeling lonely, I was done hurting, physically and emotionally. I was just done. I poured my heart out to Him, and I felt an answer whispered in my ear.

Wait.

Wait? Wait for what? I didn't know. I was both frustrated and relieved. I didn't know what I was supposed to be waiting for, but a weight lifted off my chest. I didn't have to worry any more. The Lord was watching out for me, and He wanted me to wait.

That summer was a weird one. It was the first summer I was home for the full break since I'd left for college. I was working on an internship that I loved, but dealt with working 40 hours a week for the first time. But I kept surrendering myself to the Lord. It was hard to know what this meant, because I had never tried before, but I just kept asking the Lord to help me.

And he did. The Lord's grace was sufficient for me.

Slowly, I was able to start working out. Then, some of the harder relationships in my life healed. I had more energy. I was just happier. I started to feel confident in my future. It was gradual, slow progress, but I knew who it came from. It's hard to talk about this change in me because it was in the background, but I know why the Lord told me to wait. I needed Him before I needed anyone else. Then, at the end of the summer, the Lord did something drastic to get my full attention. He gave me my husband.

After a few months of finally freeing myself from carrying my own burdens and feeling the full love of the Lord, I could never go back. When I returned to Tuscaloosa, I was a different, happier person. Everyone noticed. EVERYONE. People who I had casual relationships with noticed how much happier and healthier I was, and I was glad to give it all to the Lord. Why am I telling you all of this?

Because I can run. I can lift weights. I can clean my home and decorate it to my heart's content. I play softball and kickball. I cuddle babies and chase after kids. I stand and walk all day at festivals and parties. I am active. I am healthy. I am happy. I am perfect in my weakness.

But I am not cured. I still hurt after long days on my feet and too much activity. I have a hard time getting out of bed some mornings, especially after storms. I cry from frustration when I can't do my own dishes on a particularly bad day. I get anxious about carrying and raising children and growing old with my husband as my body continues to betray me. But my life is still a profound miracle. The fact that I finished school, I hold a job, I keep myself active, and I smile everyday is a miracle. So many people pray for healing for me, and I ask them not to. Because anytime I think I can tackle life on my own, the Lord gives me a twinge in the ribs, or a numbness in my foot, or a tremor in my hand. My Fibromyalgia is a thorn in my side, and I am grateful for it. Like Paul, I will boast in my weakness. I am sick, but my Lord makes me well. If true healing is the Lord's will for me, I believe it'll come when I no longer require such a literal reminder that I am not in control. I long to be like the woman who knew if she touched the hem of Jesus' robe, she would no longer be sick. And Jesus rewarded her:

And He said to her, "Daughter, your faith has made you well. Go in peace and be healed of your affliction." Mark 5:24 NASB

My faith in the Lord and confidence in His word has allowed Him to give me little miracles everyday. So I will continue to boast all the more gladly about my weakness.

P.S. I cannot go at this alone. I have an amazing support system that helps me tackle all the challenges life brings (a further reminder that I cannot have complete control). If you have someone in your life battling chronic illness, it can be hard to know how to help. Here are some things the people in my life do that make it all the more better:

1) Be patient. Some days, all I can think about and all I can talk about is my pain. This really isn't me looking for attention. Think about how you feel when you have a bad splinter or a really intense toothache - even when you get your mind on something else, the pain pulls you back! My family in particular is very patient. They let me be frustrated and listen when I just need to talk about it. They know that I try as hard as I can, so they treat my Fibromyalgia as just another piece of who I am.

2) Sometimes I don't know how to ask for help - but I appreciate the suggestions! I need help. A lot. It's hard for me to lift heavy things, stay on my feet for too long, or get myself up from low chairs or sitting on the floor. Sometimse there are a lot of problems at once, and I'm just not sure how to tackle the task. My husband is good about seeing the panic on my face and offering a way we can take on a task together. Or he discreetly offers a hand to help me out of a chair when I don't immediately pop up next to him. If you see us walking with his arm around me, there's a chance he's taking as much weight off my feet as possible. I really don't know where I'd be without him!

3) Let me help you! Since I first received my diagnosis, I have struggled with depression, specifically about feeling like I don't contribute to the world. It's hard to be the one who always asks for help, but doesn't have a lot to offer. A couple of years ago, I joined a Life Group at church with a bunch of other couples. We take care of each other, and I have been able to help others out! It means so much to take a meal to a family, help unpack boxes (Lord knows I can't move them), or hold babies while moms pack up the stroller. Some of the women in my class call me the baby whisperer, and they don't know that it warms my heart each time, because it gives me a role, a purpose. I contribute.

Thanks for reading, and soft hugs to all my Fibro friends out there! I know it's hard to fight every day, but try to rest in the Lord. He will make your burdens light!

Keep Calm and Carrier On

Hiking in El Paso for our first anniversary.