It’s been one of those weeks.
But I am forcing myself, and bringing myself to share with you this one question that has been on my mind all day.
And that is, who signed me up for this fight?
This morning I woke up, and the sun kindly warmed my face as it peered through the blinds … but this fleeting moment of hopefulness was quickly drowned out by a wave of distressing symptoms … and the sobering reminder that today, just like yesterday … and the day before that … will be another quiet fight.
I seem to be dealing with it ALL this week. And it’s really hard to hold on through all of this. I feel like my armor is falling apart and my sword is too unbearably heavy.
Over the past seven years, I’ve been through so many ups and downs, trying to live again after a bad flare with Lyme, Chronic Fatigue, and POTS symptoms. I’ve learned to be a warrior. I’ve learned to push through. I’ve learned to face some of my deepest fears, and run into the roar, so to speak. I’ve learned to trust God even when I didn’t feel like it. And at times, I do succeed … by the grace of God, there have been triumphs, and I have come a long way.
But it’s weeks like these — like this ONE — that makes me not want to talk about chronic illness anymore. I don’t want to write about it anymore. I don’t want to soldier through this one more moment. I don’t want to run into the roar — yet again. I don’t really have the energy to think of how I am growing from all of this. I just want to quietly exist through it, and wait until it blows over, and then … if and when I feel safe and clear … I can then tie it up all in a neat bow and present it to others.
But life is so awkwardly shaped. And sometimes there are no eloquent words to describe something hard. Pain is so messy and confusing. And you can’t always wait until you have the answers to hold on to the truth.
The truth has to stand even when there are no answers.
You are my refuge and my shield. I have put my hope in your word. ~ Psalm 119:114
The thing I have to remember is that I was never called to stand on the frontlines by myself with my puny, inadequate dollar store-quality armor.
And the thing I must turn to when I am weary, when I feel I am lacking EVERYTHING, is that I have a shield that is greater than mine.
I never wanted to be enlisted. But the war is real, and peace and hope are worth the battle scars.
So today, I place my armor down, wave the white flag of sweet surrender, and trust in His shield over my future … over my tomorrow when it all starts all over again. I am not giving up or giving in — but just humbly declaring that I cannot fight this by myself. And by this, I’m also declaring, “Lord, you are my hope.”
And He is … today and everyday … even as the battle rages on.
Keep pressing on. Keep going. Keep hoping.