The past six months have been phenomenal--I've learned so much, depended on God in new ways, made new friends, transitioned to a new phase of life, and grown up a lot. I love my life right now.
About a week ago, I passed the six month mark on when a weird pain started in my foot. Since then the pain has moved to nearly every other area of my body; it has manifested in many different ways, I've been to more doctors than I can remember, tried more medications than I care to think about, and been tested for diseases I hadn't known existed. It's funny, though, how normal this all seems. Wearing braces, keeping track what of time I take what medication, limping, and planning out my days to avoid walking as much as possible is routine for me now.
You can get used to doing what it takes to get by, but not the pain itself. I don't think you can ever get used to chronic pain--the stabbing pain with each step, the sudden sharp cramps, the numbness, the tingling, or the worry of noticing when something else is wrong. There are times when I feel almost hopeless--like my body is refusing to work, falling apart, shutting down on me and no one can figure out why. But I'm not hopeless, and I never will be. There really is a "peace that passes all understanding," a God-given ability to "rejoice in the Lord always," and a "joy [that] comes in the morning."
Yesterday my pastor talked about Jesus walking on water and storms in our lives. He said that God allows storms for a reason, and when the reason is fulfilled the storm will end. He showed how when Peter focused on Jesus the storm was not important, and only when he his attention strayed from Jesus did he sink. Whatever the purpose of this particular storm, apparently it is not fulfilled. That is encouraging to me--I have learned so much already, and there is more yet to be learned. I look forward to the day when I can walk normally, run around and be goofy, not have to worry about having my orthotics and braces and all my medications each morning, wear whatever shoes I want, serve others instead of always being served, stand on my toes, prop myself up on my elbows, and not have to take breaks from sitting up to go lay down. But there is purpose for pain, there is joy in suffering, and every flare has that beautiful moment when I realize my pain has subsided.
I've learned to depend on others. I've learned to discern when to ask for help when I need it and to suck it up. I've stopped caring about what other people think while I adjust my noisy back brace, limp, shake the bottle of Tums in my backpack with each step, look terrible because it took all my energy to get out of bed, and miss out on fun events because of my pain. Well, I should say, I'm learning to do all of these things. It's still a struggle, but one day I will get there. There is a time when the purpose of the storm will be fulfilled and the seas will calm. Until then, I will keep looking at Jesus and walking on water.
Well, limping on water.
