On the Hard Days
Today is a hard day. It's been a year of medical tests, of trying new medicine, of changing what I eat, when I eat, how often I eat. A year of questions with no answers. Yes, you have Gastroparesis. No, you don't have Gastroparesis, but we don't really know what is wrong. You have a fibroid on your uterus. There is no evidence of a fibroid. You might have PCOS but you don't exhibit all of the symptoms. I have redefined the term atypical case.
It has been a long year of pain, of wondering why now, of wishing and hoping for answers that don't seem to come. A year of praying to have the strength to make it through one more hour at work, to survive a drive home, or even to just find a place to be in pain and cry and not have people asking what is wrong with me.
I stayed home from work again today. It hurts to even sit up straight, and as I write this, I'm in tears...lots and lots of tears. I couldn't bear the thought of going to work, sitting at a desk and trying to act like everything was okay. I hurt and I feel sick and that is hard.
I live a life of constant nausea, of pain and cramps in new and weird parts of my stomach all day. And there are some days where the pain is only at a five and I can manage. I can throw on an outfit and head out the door and smile and say everything is fine.
Today is an 8. Maybe even a 9. I've eaten applesauce and rice and even that is making the pain worse. My trusty ginger ale has done nothing today.
I try not to focus on the sadness. On cancelling plans or missing parties because I cannot leave my bed without being in pain. But today is a hard day, a day where I feel broken and don't see the light at the end of this painful tunnel.
I try not to feel discouraged when someone lovingly tells me they bet if I just tried THIS thing or THAT thing my pain would go away. I love these people for thinking of me, for praying for me and for hoping that there really is a miracle cure waiting for me in my future. Most days I can smile and say thank you for thinking of me. Today I just cried.
Is it possible to both hate and love a trial at the same time? I hate the pain that I'm in. I hate feeling sick. I hate being the flaky friend. Yet I love the way that this trial has drawn me closer to God. I see prayers answered every day as I somehow find the strength to get out of bed. I text my family and beg for prayers to find relief so I can sleep, and the relief comes. God I mindful of me. ME. He is mindful of each of us as we go through our hard days and He wants us to never feel alone.
Yesterday in church, we were talking about how each of us has to face hard days. Our teacher played a clip from this story by Elder Hugh B. Brown, and I flashed back to my days as a missionary. I don't talk about being a missionary much because it was a definite Garden of Gethsemane experience for me. It's when I first got sick, first was called a burden because of a medical condition outside my control, and first felt the hand of God in my life directing my worn and weary body to do His work.
One day my companion and I were listening to a CD that had a bunch of talks on it, and this story came up. I sat and bawled. I was that little currant bush in that moment, I had dreamed of what my life as a missionary was supposed to be like and this wasn't it. I felt like I had failed and I didn't know what I could do to make it right. Missionaries were supposed to get out and do the work of the Lord and I was curled up in the front seat of a car praying for the strength to survive an appointment.
Those moments of pain helped guide my life in ways I never would have seen. Helped me to do God's work in the lives of others. Helped me to find a career I love. Helped me see and chase after my own strengths. These hard days are what lead to some of the brightest days ahead.
I've had so many days like today where I've sat wondering "How could you do this to me". One of the greatest pieces of advice I've ever been given is to "stop asking why and start asking what you can learn from this". I can guarantee that the Stake President who issued that challenge to me had no idea what the trials were that were ahead of me. But God did.
God is the Gardener here, he knows what he wants me to be. He wants me to amount to something, something bigger than I can see right now. God knows what is best for me. He knows where this trial will lead, and what will come next. And I'm hoping that one day, I too can say "Thank you, Mr Gardener, for cutting me down".
So yes, it's a hard day, and no, I don't know what you can do to help. But even on this hard day, I'm grateful for the lessons I am learning. I am grateful for the joy I find on the good days, and for the hope that grows inside of me on the bad ones.
It has been a long year of pain, of wondering why now, of wishing and hoping for answers that don't seem to come. A year of praying to have the strength to make it through one more hour at work, to survive a drive home, or even to just find a place to be in pain and cry and not have people asking what is wrong with me.
I stayed home from work again today. It hurts to even sit up straight, and as I write this, I'm in tears...lots and lots of tears. I couldn't bear the thought of going to work, sitting at a desk and trying to act like everything was okay. I hurt and I feel sick and that is hard.
I live a life of constant nausea, of pain and cramps in new and weird parts of my stomach all day. And there are some days where the pain is only at a five and I can manage. I can throw on an outfit and head out the door and smile and say everything is fine.
Today is an 8. Maybe even a 9. I've eaten applesauce and rice and even that is making the pain worse. My trusty ginger ale has done nothing today.
I try not to focus on the sadness. On cancelling plans or missing parties because I cannot leave my bed without being in pain. But today is a hard day, a day where I feel broken and don't see the light at the end of this painful tunnel.
I try not to feel discouraged when someone lovingly tells me they bet if I just tried THIS thing or THAT thing my pain would go away. I love these people for thinking of me, for praying for me and for hoping that there really is a miracle cure waiting for me in my future. Most days I can smile and say thank you for thinking of me. Today I just cried.
Is it possible to both hate and love a trial at the same time? I hate the pain that I'm in. I hate feeling sick. I hate being the flaky friend. Yet I love the way that this trial has drawn me closer to God. I see prayers answered every day as I somehow find the strength to get out of bed. I text my family and beg for prayers to find relief so I can sleep, and the relief comes. God I mindful of me. ME. He is mindful of each of us as we go through our hard days and He wants us to never feel alone.
Yesterday in church, we were talking about how each of us has to face hard days. Our teacher played a clip from this story by Elder Hugh B. Brown, and I flashed back to my days as a missionary. I don't talk about being a missionary much because it was a definite Garden of Gethsemane experience for me. It's when I first got sick, first was called a burden because of a medical condition outside my control, and first felt the hand of God in my life directing my worn and weary body to do His work.
One day my companion and I were listening to a CD that had a bunch of talks on it, and this story came up. I sat and bawled. I was that little currant bush in that moment, I had dreamed of what my life as a missionary was supposed to be like and this wasn't it. I felt like I had failed and I didn't know what I could do to make it right. Missionaries were supposed to get out and do the work of the Lord and I was curled up in the front seat of a car praying for the strength to survive an appointment.
Those moments of pain helped guide my life in ways I never would have seen. Helped me to do God's work in the lives of others. Helped me to find a career I love. Helped me see and chase after my own strengths. These hard days are what lead to some of the brightest days ahead.
I've had so many days like today where I've sat wondering "How could you do this to me". One of the greatest pieces of advice I've ever been given is to "stop asking why and start asking what you can learn from this". I can guarantee that the Stake President who issued that challenge to me had no idea what the trials were that were ahead of me. But God did.
God is the Gardener here, he knows what he wants me to be. He wants me to amount to something, something bigger than I can see right now. God knows what is best for me. He knows where this trial will lead, and what will come next. And I'm hoping that one day, I too can say "Thank you, Mr Gardener, for cutting me down".
So yes, it's a hard day, and no, I don't know what you can do to help. But even on this hard day, I'm grateful for the lessons I am learning. I am grateful for the joy I find on the good days, and for the hope that grows inside of me on the bad ones.
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