This new protocol starts with me clearing out my lymph, kidneys, and liver, all which are clogged and keeping the infections from draining. The clearing out has resulted in a lot of herxing, so I’ve had to expect to feel more sick and more pain each day. This has become a full time job and still is ever consuming, so it doesn’t bug me anymore to push my cart slowly in the grocery store with no makeup, ice headbands and heat packs around my shoulders as people stare. I’ve had to wear some kind of ice on my head 24/7, and Ethan refreshes the ice sometimes twice while I sleep. How do you balance hope within that realm, knowing you must expect the worst but somehow hope for the best? It’s been the biggest battle to let go of every emotion that comes from the limitations. I used to sprint record times with my teammates and now my legs shake after walking 2 blocks?! How on earth does your body inflict such damage within in such short time? And why the heck does it take triple the time to heal it?!
I still am living on the outside. Feeling like I’m peering through the large, glass window, ready to join everyone running around in the world around me, but the window stays locked shut. Even on days my body feels an ounce better, as soon as I try a little more, the pain flares up again as if taunting me, reminding me I have too. many. limitations. Feels like most days I sit in a straightjacket on the couch while my mind runs free wishing my body could follow along.
I have been catching on to what God is doing though…healing the insides of my mind along with my body. Such a brutal process but my mind has learned truths it never would’ve, as I’ve seen depths I’ve never experienced. I think it’s when we lose everything that we find the only things that are important.
It’s not my time yet–I can try all I might to do things that I can’t and wish the healing to come instantly, but that won’t make things change any faster. It’s simply my time to be sick.
And nature knows it best…
There is a time for everything.
Change is inevitable, coming and going as easy as the next breeze; with each season comes the loss but also the beauty. The warmth withers away but the changing leaves spark a new kind of warmth in the soul. No season comes without its hardships and its beauty, woven together in the same tapestry of our journeys.
The trees speak for us all: roots down deep are the only roots we can depend on. The outsides fade away as the seasons grow cold, but all the while the roots dig down deeper and the trees grow taller each year. So it is for us…we will remain as long as we remain in Him. Our roots planted down deep are the only assurance we have of making it through our surviving of the cold seasons, only to display our thriving in the spring and summer.
God sustains before He restores.
We can thrive within our journey not because of the environment around us, but because of the foundation beneath us.
We must buckle down during our winters in order to meet the new life come spring.
And we see all over the forests what we need to see in our own communities: the newly planted trees can grow confidently under the protection of the full spreads of trees already grown. They look up and see the ways their own kind has flourished amid the cold and the dark, and know they too must dig a little deeper.
Don’t mistake this hardship for just that. What feels like is being taken away even within the ever present dark, may just as well be His gentle care. His pruning only increases our growth. He cuts out what hinders and gives what flourishes. What we are losing will help us to grow in the right direction and produce the right colors. Could it be true, that His great love for us endures amidst the dark?
God never lets the darkness have the final word.
Spring always comes and the beauty always blooms, if only we don’t give up in our seasons of less.
A poem for my season:
For all His graciousness, we’ve but one word;
He pours out hidden gifts and we still question “why?!”
He bends down to speak–won’t we look up to listen?
The confines of time give way to our cries.
Won’t we let go of the past holding tight to our legs,
and cling to the One who is holding our hearts?
We groan in the pain of the dark because we know the warmth of the light of day.
Won’t we stop wandering and start wondering;
cease the searching in the dark corners and begin finding in the light?
We’re all just lost souls trying to find a familiar path,
but new roads can lead to new life.
I’ve looked in places far darker than this,
for a sign, a symbol, a choice.
But I found instead amidst the dim light,
what He showed me, was His voice.
Our wandering hearts and our fleeting thoughts
can’t understand a love so dear.
It was when I found my life in Christ
that His love became so clear.