It’s been eight years since I began battling fatigue, five years of serious health concerns, grueling treatments and money flying out. And all in all, I’m grateful. God has been good. His hand of blessing has rested upon me, both in spiritual and earthly ways. Throughout my sickness, the doorways of heaven have been pulled open a bit more. I see things in that new light. I’m grateful.
But some days? Grief rips and cuts deep. That heavy ache has returned. The lost life, hopes, dreams, abilities and desire pile up.
It hits at the strangest of times. Watching an athletic woman play sports. She can run without tiring. I know what she’s feeling. I remember yet. And I long to have that vigor flowing through my body, to be able to push, push, push and feel good because of it.
Sometimes, it’s hearing of others’ lives. The activities, travels, work situation and their ability to be involved with people. Alive and on the move. I remember.
Or watching a mamma with her children, able to tackle the issues in their lives, have energy to keep a clean house, to keep up relationships outside of her home, what we would call a ‘healthy’ balance to life. I fear it, so deeply fear it!
Things I loved and deeply hidden away inside, still love. I try to stop, to cover it up with new dreams. But they still re-surface.
Today, it was a photo on facebook. A woman high in the snow-covered mountains, standing tall and strong with her man’s arm about her. Energy beaming from her face, a sparkle in her eye, the flushed cheeks of one who has worked hard and accomplished the goal. I remember.
Perhaps this one hurts the most, cause I know my man misses it the most. Really? It makes me feel like a rotter. I feel less, somehow. Why can’t I give him this one simple thing? I so desperately want to live life beside him, to join him in adventure and fun! Making memories and sharing in life together? Sigh. And apart from this, I miss energy for climbing the mountains. I miss the feeling of ecstacy: sore yet loose muscles, the sensation of a mountain breeze drying sweat beads on my face, the knowledge that I did it, the incredible view to behold…I always had a difficult time coming down any mountain I’d hiked. I’d just want to stay there forever, soaking in the view, waiting until the velvet cover of darkness descended and the clear brightness of the stars shone down to me.
And then, like an overweight bird hitting the ground, I’m back. I can’t do long hikes more than once or twice a year: body won’t hold up. Besides, hiking usually makes for a headache the next day and a week of down time while my body used its energies to heal the sore muscles. Hiking means my man has to see to household chores. Hiking meant I’d be irritable for the next week and inevitably, have a fight with my husband. Hiking means I’ll live in isolation for a week, trying to let my body heal and re-gain my strength. Hiking (amazing as it is) usually makes for a highly un-enjoyable week to follow. And if I don’t rest, one week turns into two or three.
Grief. It hits randomly. Sometimes strong, other times a faint twinge, its still my faithful and unfortunately loyal companion.
Sometimes, I’m ok with my sickness. And sometimes, I hate it. I hate what it’s done to my life, to my husband, to my relationships and ability to be with people.
Sometimes, I wonder what God is doing.
“Wasn’t I faithful to serve You before the sickness descended? I was making a difference for Your kingdom! Lives were being opened and changed through the way You gifted me. My life mattered. I saw the result in others. Surely sitting in the dark hold of sickness isn’t glorifying You in any possible way, is it? I hardly have contact with anyone! And You are all about people, right?”
What is He thinking?
I don’t know. But I understand that He must value something I do not. He must see something I cannot. It would seem what I think is important to Him actually isn’t? There is something more I don’t yet comprehend. There is something He puts great value upon that I don’t understand.
I don’t understand. But I do want to trust.