Running out of time…
Life can change in an instant. Sometimes it feels like all it does is change. Although my everyday life may feel monotonous in many ways, “chronic illness is a life of certainty about having to face uncertainty.” (Author unknown) It’s been eighteen years since I was healthy, eighteen years since I was “normal”. Everyday is hard in its own way. Pain is always present, I just never know the degree at which it will present itself. Sometimes it feels like too much. Sometimes I want to run, hide, or give up. Sometimes I'm irrational and full of fear and doubt. Sometimes I'm hopeful and at peace because of the perfect love of God that casts out fear.
The last few months have felt incredibly challenging, possibly more challenging than any other time and I'm overwhelmed. The older I get the more there is to attend to in this fragile body of mine. There’s always another appointment or another test and when I look at the list all at once I feel like I'm drowning. Add to that, the inevitable breaking down of our bodies and the nuances of age, not only just in ourselves but also those we love. At this stage of life, watching my parents and grandparents grow old, become ill, and/or pass on is something I wasn't prepared for. Staggered throughout the last six years, the most recent being eight months ago, I’ve witnessed the dying/death process of my last three living grandparents. On top of that, my father received news a couple of months ago that his cancer was back and had spread to four new parts of his body. Shortly thereafter, my mother started having some heart problems attributed to Atrial fibrillation. It’s hard watching your parents age.It’s hard watching the ones you love suffer and even harder when you barely have time to come up for air in your own struggles before another thing happens somewhere else.
What’s even harder is when you can't offer the tangible kind of help that your heart wishes to give because you yourself are suffering. I beat myself up for not being able to be “there”, present at the drop of a hat or physically able to do manual labor like cleaning or cooking for those in need. But, it’s no different in my own home. I feel guilty about and focus too often on what I can’t do rather than what I can.Im not ultimately in control of my pain and I can only do what my body allows each day and not a thing more. When things feel too hard mentally or when my body is flat on the bed with pain I have to remind myself that there’s still a purpose for me even if all I've done all day is tell the ones I love that I love them and am thankful for every single thing they've done for me that day..
I do believe there are purposes in my pain. In my heart I know that prayer and encouraging others are mine. But, they are gifts from God that I greatly take for granted. My mind concocts this list of “should do’s” for every role in my life and if I can't check those off I feel like a failure. My proud heart wants to be noticed or patted on the back for gifts that aren't mine to give. Instead of feeling lost in the shadows of those who can do what I can't, the ones who seem to have everything together, maybe I should consider that my gifts are tailor made for me by my suffering savior who sympathizes, perfectly understands what i'm going through, and wants to use it to comfort others. On the ever changing terrain of this life I want to encourage others from afar and/or through prayer with the daily strength that the Lord infuses to me each day even when I doubt he will. No matter how hard life becomes, if there's air in your lungs God isn't done with your story yet. Live your purpose and share your god given gifts right where you are. To you they might seem small but with God they are mountains that magnify his glory.
“When pain and grief and anxiety conspire to push you to the edge of despair, remember God’s mighty deeds…remember his kindness, his special tailor-made graces that fell out of the sky…” Joni E. Tada.
- Erin