Through the years of dealing with chronic pain, journaling has helped me to sometimes vent, sometimes organize my thoughts, and often to reassure me that all will be okay.
I don’t enjoy all the long-tiring-fatiguing conversations that sometimes result when sharing about my health. Years ago, I moved away from a gal going on about a book she read that might help me, while also claiming healing in my life. I kept telling her I just need to get home and rest. (A priority I’m always working on.) Perhaps she was claiming my ultimate healing when I’m with the Lord. Had I stood there much longer, it may have happened!
Then there was a gal in our Small Life Group who clipped an article out about a Fibromyalgia solution (not my real problem.) But certainly, a well-intended effort to help.
And how could I forget the phone call at 10:00 PM? The “urgent” message to stop drinking diet soda! (So much for the 3 cans before bedtime routine.) Seriously, when I’m tired and in pain, it’s a challenge politely responding, “Well, thank you, but I don’t drink diet soda. I don’t drink any soda. It’s all bad for you.”
Yes, people mean well and just want to help. I get that. My illness is hard to navigate, but I hope to prevent flares and minimize pain. My goal is not healing from an incurable disease. Rather I want to learn and apply the things needed to feel the best I can.
“It is in the quiet crucible of your personal private sufferings that your noblest dreams are born, and God’s greatest gifts are given in compensation to what you’ve been through.” Author Unknown
It is very difficult, in fact impossible, to understand why God allows these tough times in our lives. It’s hardly comforting to say he has his reasons, even though he does. When I’m in pain and fatigued, I sense a closeness to God that I can’t explain. I think it’s because only God comprehends my feelings in those moments. We talk, I know he’s listening. I cry. I know he cries with me.
The believer knows God can reside so closely his presence eases the deepest sufferings.
His presence can overtake the ticking of the clock at night when the pain seems endless. It might enter through the hopeful words of a song. Or a familiar verse the mind clings to when hurting.
There’s a special club for those who suffer. It exists between us and God, and others like us. I believe club members realize their life possesses something unique, granted only to the brave and strong. Though it takes time to come to that realization. The Christian sufferer offers a remarkable testimony of bringing hope to others.
I remember a story from when our son, Jake, was young, and we were in Nicaragua. I told our kids this trip might be rough (as some mission trips are), but just—do your best.
Within the first two days of the trip, Jake smashed his head against a car windshield star-bursting the glass, he tripped and rolled down a hill gathering chiggers and a tick along the way, and fell down a steep, short-set of rough wooden stairs. Bruised, hurting, and itching, with an ear swollen the size of Dumbo’s! Thanks to the tick. The third morning, I approached the bunk bed of one weary little boy. Leaning over him, I asked, “How are you doing?”
Without even a slight move of his head, he whispers courageously, “I’m doing my best.”
I don’t always know what others expect of me. I don’t always comprehend what God expects of me. But I know that the pain I live with often leads me to say, “I’m doing my best.” And, just like my son, I realize that’s enough!