Depend

When you are chronically ill, you learn a lot about dependence. Because you can no longer depend on your own body or strength. Before I became ill, I was quite self-sufficient. I was physically strong, and could easily handle tasks that others might have found difficult, such as stacking wood or moving furniture. Now that I am ill, simply getting dressed is tiring!

So, since I can no longer depend on myself, whom do I depend on? Well, pretty much everyone else! First of all, I depend on my husband. He does all the household chores, inside and out. He buys groceries. He picks up my - numerous - prescriptions. He walks the dog. He brings in firewood for me. He pretty much does it all - and, bless him, he never complains! (Yes, I'm married to the perfect man - sorry, ladies!)

I also depend on my friends. Since driving is physically taxing, I depend on friends to take me to all of my medical appointments: physical therapy, massage, mental health counseling, etc. It makes a huge difference when I can get a ride, as it saves me so much energy! I also depend on my friends to pray for me. Their support and encouragement is something I cherish. I really do have great friends!

Of course, mostly, I depend on God. It is God's strength that keeps me going, day after day after day. Being chronically ill is hard, both physically and mentally. But I have learned that God is with me, even on the bad days - especially on the bad days! God carries me through. God holds me. God catches my tears when I cry. God gives me the strength to carry on.

My chronic illness has taught me many things, but one of the most important things is that I know whom I can depend on!


This post is part of the weekly Five Minute Friday link-up!

Tips for Traveling for a Medical Appointment

When you are chronically ill, traveling can be difficult. But you often need to travel to see specialists. This is an article I wrote for The Mighty, an advocacy site for people with disabilities. I hope it is helpful.

Tips for Traveling for a Medical Appointment

Keep Growing!

My wonderful husband makes me coffee each day before he leaves for work (and before I wake up.) So, every morning I have a few minutes to sit and stare out the kitchen window while I wait for the microwave to heat up my coffee. As I look out the window, I see all the trees and brush growing on our mostly wild property. In particular, I see a tree just outside the back fence that I have come to think of as “my” tree, because I see it as symbolizing my life with a chronic illness.

Several years ago, we had a terrible ice storm, which coated all of our trees. The ice was so heavy that the younger, thinner trees bent over with the weight of it. After the ice melted, all the trees gradually returned to their normal upright position over the next few days, with the exception of this one, which has remained bowed over ever since. Somehow, it was so damaged by the ice that it was never able to spring back. For years, I would look at it and think that maybe it would eventually get back to the way it was, but it has never happened. However this year, I noticed something that is absolutely amazing: at the top of the arc, new growth has appeared, reaching straight up! It’s as if the tree has realized it’s never going to unbend, so it better start growing upward in the only way it can - from its new “top!” It’s just getting on with its purpose in life as best it can, which is to grow up toward the sky.

And that’s what got me thinking about the parallel to my own life. Over thirteen years ago I was “bent over” by an illness. Most people would have recovered normally from it, and gone back to “standing upright” (full health.) But I never did. I’ve remained “bent over” (chronically ill) all these years. I was too damaged by the illness to go back to normal. BUT, even though I’m bent over, I’m still growing! I’m growing out from my illness! Just because I’m chronically ill, doesn’t mean my purpose in life is over! I’m still sick, but my life still has meaning. I can still grow. It’s not the growth I would have wanted, but it’s still growth. 

And the alternative can also be seen in this photo: off to the right you can see a tree that snapped off because of the weight of the ice. That could have been “my” tree. It would have been easy for me to just give up on my life and dreams, because of my illness. All of my hopes and plans were dashed. I could have just snapped in two. But I didn’t. I decided that even though I’m bent over, even though I’m not like a “normal” healthy person, I wouldn’t give up. I chose to keep growing, just as “my” tree has!

Maybe life has left you “bent over” too. Maybe you thought that you could never grow again, because of the damage caused. But that tree is living proof that you can keep growing, keep living. I see it every day, and it reminds me the God can create good out of any situation, any life - no matter how broken. If that tree can do it, so can I. And so can you!

The Peace That Passes Understanding

All Christians are familiar with Philippians 4:7 which reads:

“And the peace of God, which passeth all understanding, shall keep your hearts and minds through Christ Jesus.” 

That’s the King James translation. Other translations are even more expressive:

• And the peace of God, which surpasses all comprehension, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus. [NASB]
• And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus. [NIV]
• Then you will experience God's peace, which exceeds anything we can understand. His peace will guard your hearts and minds as you live in Christ Jesus. [New Living Translation]

I have always loved the idea behind this verse, even as a little girl. It spoke of the “bigness” of God, and of God’s amazing power - that we could have peace even when it didn’t make sense to. I believe that at various times in my life I experienced that peace. But now, I am living in that peace. 

Allow me to explain.

If you’re a regular reader of this blog, or you know me personally, you know that I’m chronically ill, and have been ill for over 13 years, now. Prior to that, I was a hard-core amateur athlete, and I had a rewarding career that I loved. But because of the illness, I had to give all that up. In fact, I had to give up everything - even going to church - because I just didn’t have the energy to do so. As the years passed and I never got better (despite many prayers and many doctor visits), I obviously struggled to find my way in this new life I had. I eventually came to the point where I placed all my trust in God, because I knew that God is good and God is love. I didn’t understand why God didn’t heal me, but I still trusted that God could make something good come out of even something as negative as a chronic illness. It’s been a long journey, with many, many ups and downs, but here I am 13 years later, and I am at peace. And this peace doesn’t seem to be going away! Even on my worst days, there is still this underlying feeling of peace and contentment. 

Now, don’t misunderstand me - I still have days when the unfairness of it all hits me hard, and I feel angry and depressed. But even in the midst of those difficult emotions, I am somehow at peace; I don’t feel consumed by the dark feelings - they’re there, I acknowledge them, I feel them, but they don’t seem to outweigh the peace in the depth of my soul. It’s really quite incomprehensible, if you look at it logically! I mean, seriously, just think: I lost a job I loved (which also meant a loss of over half of our family income), I lost my sports that practically defined who I thought I was as a person, I lost my church, I lost my volunteer activities, I lost almost all of my other hobbies and interests. I have lost SO much! And on top of the loss, I feel terrible, physically. Every single day. No matter how long I sleep, I never wake up refreshed. I feel like I have the flu 24/7/365. And yet I have peace.

It truly does surpass comprehension and understanding!

All I can say is, it’s God. This peace is not of my own making. My natural tendency is to worry and to overthink things. But somehow in the midst of this incredibly difficult life, I have peace. When I gave up my need to control things, when I put my trust fully in God, the peace that passes understanding arrived! And it looks as though it’s here to stay. I certainly hope so!

On Grief

Grief is an odd beast. Despite our efforts to tame it, to explain it, to contain it, it shows up when we least expect it and in ways that we can’t predict. I don’t mean that we never know when some grief-causing event will happen - I mean that grief shows up weeks, months, years after some event, surprising us with its black fury.

Everyone is familiar with the “five stages of grief” as defined by Elisabeth Kübler-Ross:

1. denial 
2. anger 
3. bargaining 
4. depression 
5. acceptance

and I thought I understood them, too. I’ve gone through these stages when confronted by the loss of loved ones, and - more pertinent to this post - because of the loss of my old life due to chronic illness. I went through these stages 3-4 years into my illness, when I realized I was suffering from depression and needed psychological help. I saw a therapist for a few years, was on antidepressants for a while, and then felt like I’d reached stage 5, and I was good to go for the rest of my life.

But then, 2 years ago, when my illness was still undiagnosed and my condition continued to deteriorate, it became apparent that I was depressed again. So, back to the therapist, back on antidepressants, and back though the grief process. And, once again, I felt I had hit stage 5, and I was good to go.

And then something amazing happened: I received a diagnosis of my “mystery” illness! After over 12 years of searching and seeking, traveling all over the country seeing specialists, I got referred to a doctor here in my hometown who diagnosed me! And he started me on a treatment that is already making a difference in how I feel. This is great news, right? I finally know what I have, and I have a treatment that is improving my condition! Awesome!

But - here’s the weird thing - I’m facing grief all over again. Just like before, I am grieving the life I used to live: a life of sports, of world travel, of a career I loved. A life of health and vitality. And I’m grieving for my future life, because even though I have a diagnosis and treatment, the diagnosis is of a chronic illness, meaning I’ll never be healed (barring a miracle) and I’ll have to be struggling every day to face life as a disabled person. I can’t eat what I want, I can’t do what I want, and this is the way it’s going to be for the rest of my life.

So, here I am again, in the land of grief. And I finally get it: grief is something you never get over. And those five stages? They don’t happen in order. Heck, I’ve gone through all five in a single day! And then I wake up and have to go through them all over again! Or I’ll get stuck in one stage for a day, or a week, or a month. And I can go from acceptance, back to anger, on to depression and then end up in denial. There’s no rhyme or reason to the stages. And - this is the important thing - there is no end to grief. Grief is now a part of my life, and will be with me until the day I die. It’s a part of me now because my old life is gone, and will always be gone, and I’ll always miss it. Some days that grief is easier to bear, but some days it comes crashing down on me like a black wave and it’s all I can do to make it through the day.

Coming to this realization - that grief never goes away - is actually a good thing. Now I don’t feel like a failure when one of the stages of grief hits me out of the blue; it’s not because I haven’t “completed” the five stages - there is no completion. When you suffer from a truly life-altering event, grief will always be there. But that’s okay - now that I know I’ll never “get over” my grief, I won’t beat myself up when the dark days come. I’ll simply recognize the darkness for what it is, and know that I will make it through to better days. I always have and I always will, because it is God who holds my hand and leads me through the “valley of the shadow of death.” He is the one who comforts me and catches my tears, and reassures me that I’ll make it out of the darkness into the light once again. 

Just like my chronic illness, grief is now a part of me. And, just as I’ve learned to live with my illness, I’m learning to live with grief. It’s just the way it is. And that’s okay.

YES!

So, this post is long overdue, but my life has been turned upside down since my last post. Some of you may recall my post of late February, titled “No” (you can read it here.) Basically, it was about the fact that with my illness I’d had nothing but twelve years of “no.” I had seen dozens of doctors all over the country, and had gotten no diagnosis and no help for my symptoms. I had been forced to give up more and more things I loved. And at the point of that post, I had just been denied disability payments, and that was the last straw. I just couldn’t keep going with a positive attitude, and had lost all hope. I ended the blog with a plea for just one teensy-weensy yes.

Well, guess what? I got a GREAT BIG YES the week after writing that blog - I GOT A DIAGNOSIS!!!!!! Can you believe it?!? I still can’t quite believe it myself! And it was a doctor here in town who was able to finally diagnose me - not one of the specialists at Harborview or the Cleveland Clinic. Amazing!!

Here’s how it happened:

My neurologist (the wonderful Dr. David Greeley of Northwest Neurological) had reached the end of his knowledge and what to try. But he still didn’t give up, and referred me to see Dr. Chris Valley, a naturopath who works at Arthritis Northwest. Dr. Greeley hoped that Dr. Valley might be able to bring a “fresh pair of eyes” to my situation, and approach the problem “from a new angle.” I agreed to see Dr. Valley, even though I’d seen a naturopath early on in my illness, and he’d been unable to help me. In fact, the day of my appointment, I almost cancelled, because I was afraid to face another doctor who had nothing but “no” for me. Nevertheless, I went. (Thank God!)

Dr. Valley asked me to tell him about my illness, how it started, how it progressed, etc. He listened intently, and asked a lot of very good questions. At the end of my spiel, he said, “Well, I think I know what you have.” My jaw nearly hit the floor, and I said something like, “You’re kidding! Really? What?!?” He said, “I think you have Systemic Exertion Intolerance Disease.” He went on to describe the disease and said it’s actually a new disease definition from the Institute of Medicine - only a couple of years old. The disease is characterized by exertion intolerance (duh) and non-refreshing sleep, both of which I have in spades! He said there is a neurological component as well as a muscle component (in the mitochondria.) He said my description of the onset of my illness was “practically textbook” as to how the disease begins. And he said the muscle shakes that I get when I contract any muscle is often a symptom - and he’s seen other patients with SEID who have the same shakes. (This is the first time ANYONE has been able to recognize what my muscle shakes are, and pin them to a disease.) He also said he had the benefit of 12 years of my medical records, full of tests showing what I didn’t have.

I was just stunned. Simply stunned. I used to imagine what I’d do when I got a diagnosis, and usually pictured myself sobbing hysterically in relief. When it really happened, I just sat there gaping at him for the rest of the appointment! My mind was really having a hard time grasping the reality of a diagnosis. And for weeks afterwards, I’d find myself thinking about what I should try next or where I should go to see more doctors. I would have to stop that train of thought and re-realize that I have a diagnosis and I can stop the endless search for the next attempt at a diagnosis/cure. Even now, almost 2 months later, it seems unreal to finally KNOW what’s wrong! Twelve years of wondering, searching, seeking - and finally I know! I feel like a ton of bricks has been lifted off my shoulders! It’s an amazing feeling!

So, that’s the good news - a diagnosis, at last! The bad news is that there is no cure for this. It is a chronic disease. However, there are treatments that can improve my symptoms, and Dr. Valley said he’s “very confident” that he can “significantly” improve my quality of life. He said that because I’ve gone untreated for so long, I have a very severe case of SEID, and he’s doubtful that I’ll ever be able to work again. (Sadness.) BUT, he said that with proper treatment and management of my energy, I should be able to be much more active - that taking a shower won’t always exhaust me, that I will be able to take the dog for a walk and do light housework and maybe even putter around in the yard a bit. In other words, I can progress to the point of a normal ‘sedentary’ individual - which for me would be AWESOME! I’ll probably never be able to ride a bike again (more sadness) or work out in any way (even more sadness) but if I can do normal everyday things without being exhausted, I’ll be thrilled!

I’ve started treatment with a prescription to help the neurological component, and some supplements (normally used by body-builders - LOL) to help the muscular component. And I can already feel a difference - my muscles don’t feel so awful. And I don’t feel so sick all the time. I still can’t do anything more, but at least I feel better. Dr. Valley said that the improvements will be extremely slow and gradual. His rule of thumb is 3 months of recovery time for every year of illness. For the math-challenged, that means that it’s going to take 3 YEARS for me to recover to whatever level of functionality I can achieve. Good thing I know all about being patient, having spent 12 years waiting for a diagnosis!

So, after 12 years of “no” I finally got a “yes.” I finally have hope. I no longer have to fear that I’ll just continue to deteriorate until I’m bedridden. I no longer have to keep struggling to find a doctor or a treatment. I can finally look at the future and see a better life. No, it won’t be the life I had hoped for (I truly planned to be racing bikes into my 70’s) but it will be a better life than I have right now - and that’s HUGE. Thank God for a YES!!

No!

"No."

I’m sick of that word. This battle with my (STILL) undiagnosed illness has been 12 years of “No.” 

• No, you can’t ride your bike.
• No, you can’t lift weights.
• No, you can’t exercise at all.
• No, we don’t know what’s wrong with you.
• No, we can’t do anything to help you.
• No, you can’t eat what you want to anymore.
• No, you can’t volunteer with the International Programming Contest.
• No, you can’t travel.
• No, you can’t work.
• No, you can’t go to church.
• No, you can’t get a good night’s sleep.
• No, you can’t ever feel good.
• No, you can’t get disability payments.

I can’t keep facing this endless list of “No.” I need a yes. One little yes. Something - anything - that can give me a feeling of hope. But I don’t get anything. Nothing, zip, nada, zilch. Just another “No.” Over and over and over. “No.”

Look, I know that God still loves me, I know I have the best husband in the world who loves me and takes awesome care of me, I know I have the good fortune to be covered under his insurance, I know there are many things for which I can be grateful. I get it - really I do. And I’ve spent the last 12 years focusing on those good things, and trying to stay positive and thankful and do all the rose colored glasses things. But I just can’t anymore. I can’t keep it up. My life sucks. I should be in the prime of my life, working at a job I love, traveling all over the world, racing bikes, involved in church, living and loving life!! That was me 12 years ago. It should still be me. And it totally, completely sucks that it isn’t.

So, here I am, sitting in my rocking chair, feeling like crap, just like I do every day. And I just can’t take another “No.” I can’t do this anymore. I don’t know what I’m going to do, but I just cannot keep up the positive vibe. It’s too hard!! I’ve been doing it for TWELVE FREAKING years!!! And now I’m at my limit. Something is going to have to happen for me to not just spiral down into total darkness. I need a miracle. I need a “Yes.” Is that too much to ask? That I get one teensy bit of positive news regarding my illness? Because 12 years of “No” is more than anyone should have to face. And I just can’t face another day of it.*

*Don’t worry, I’m not contemplating suicide! It’s my attitude that I can’t keep up any longer, not my physical life.

The Elephant in the Room

Living with a chronic illness, I struggle to not become bitter and despondent about my condition. It would be so easy to think about all the things I’ve lost (job, hobbies, social life) and get angry about the unfairness of it all. And then when I look ahead to a future where I am able to do less and less, I can quite easily give in to despair and hopelessness. I could live in this morass of darkness without any effort at all.

BUT - I don’t let myself go down that path. I don’t want to be a bitter, angry person, going through life complaining about how awful I have it all. Yet, the reality of my situation cannot be ignored. My illness is there, looming over every facet of my life. It is the proverbial elephant in the room. The elephant dominates everything - it gets in the way of me doing the simplest chore, making said chore become a huge physical challenge. It stands in the middle of the room, blocking my way to events and activities, keeping me trapped in my chair. It’s a big, stinky, immovable object, smack dab in the middle of my life!! 

I think we all know people who are struggling with hard things in life, but are so overwhelmed by them that they spend all their time telling you how awful their life is. They are bitter, angry,  unhappy people. I don’t want to be like that. Now, I’m not trying to say that when life throws you a curve-ball you should just plug your ears and sing, “La la la la - I can’t hear you!” When bad things happen, get mad, get angry! You should!! But don’t make your bed there and spend the rest of your life going over and over how bad things are and how unfair life is. You will make yourself miserable, and make those around you miserable, too! Who wants to live like that? Not me!

I do not want my illness to dominate my attitude. Despite the fact of its existence and power, I refuse to let it rule me. I acknowledge its presence and how it has forced me to change my life accordingly. BUT I REFUSE TO LET IT OVERPOWER MY SPIRIT. No, I can’t deny what it is and what it has done to my life, but I’m not going to make it my focus, or allow it to ruin what I have left in life. It is simply a fact of my life, and I need to make peace with it. It’s not that I pretend it’s not there - that would be impossible. I just try to live as best I can, in spite of the elephant in the room.

So, yes, I’m ill and disabled. (Hello, Elephant!) But there is more to me than my physical body, and I choose to live that life to its fullest. Naturally, I have to make accommodations for the elephant in the room (I’ve had to drastically rearrange the furniture of my life!), but I will not let the elephant destroy my happiness. I refuse to let it be the focus of my life! And, really, if you add some lovely draperies to it, an elephant can really spruce up a room! ;-)

On Body and Spirit

Because I’m home all day, I do a lot of thinking. And, of course, I do a lot of thinking about my illness, and my response to it, and what God’s plan is for me through all of this. And recently, I’ve come across an interesting little idea. Let me see if I can explain it. 

Living with a chronic illness means that you are hyper-aware of your physical state at all times: Do I have the energy for a shower today? Can I do a load of laundry today? How sore am I? How tired? Did I do something yesterday to make things worse (or better)? It’s a constant state of checking in with your body and taking stock of its status. Because of this, I sometimes feel very selfish - I’m always focused on my needs and my abilities (or lack thereof). But, as my wonderful mental health counselor (the amazing Michelle Estelle, PhD, of Cornerstone Psychologists) said, “Self care is not selfishness.” She also reminded me that when I was healthy and working out, I also had to take stock of my physical state, so that I could tailor my workouts accordingly. But, still, it is more of a constant thing, living with this illness. Every activity throughout the day is prefaced by the thought, “Do I have the strength to do this?” In short, I’m practically obsessed with the state of my body.

On the other hand, this constant physical focus makes me aware of the spiritual reality that this is not my eternal state. One way that happens is the whole unfairness of the situation. It’s just not right that anyone should be saddled with a chronic, debilitating illness, slogging painfully through every day. This sense of injustice, recognizing the “wrongness” of it, makes me realize that my spirit knows how things should be, that my spirit knows - and yearns for - a place where my body won’t be broken. This, of course, is heaven, where my body will be in perfect health, without pain, without weakness. The injustice here points to the justice there. So, even as I am focused on my physical body here, and am dismayed at its failings, it serves to point my attention to a better place, and helps me look to spiritual things. The physical accentuates the spiritual.

This duality is very much in keeping with how God works. He uses the natural to point to the spiritual. The very model of this is Adam, the broken sinful man, pointing the way to Jesus, the whole and pure man. But there are examples all throughout the Bible: the mustard seed, the lowly manger, David and Goliath, and even the cross. God always uses the natural or the physical to point us toward the spiritual. In my life, my broken body helps me to remember the promise of a whole, healed body. So, even though I tend to focus on the physical state of my body, I can use this to remind myself of God’s promise that I won’t be like this eternally. And this promise reminds me of so many other of His promises, that I lean on daily. 

So, though it may seem I’m obsessed with my physical body, I can flip it upside down, and be focused on God. Instead of a constant reminder of my broken body and the unfairness of it all, my illness is a constant reminder of God’s goodness!*

*DISCLAIMER: Of course, I would definitely love to have a healed body, here and now! But I refuse to let my body’s failings blind me to God’s over-arching promises and goodness. This is the choice I make daily - hourly - in my life. 

The Miracle

There is a song by the Christian group Casting Crowns, called “Praise You in This Storm” and this is the first stanza:

I was sure by now
God You would have reached down
And wiped our tears away
Stepped in and saved the day
But once again, I say "Amen", and it's still raining

And the part about wiping our tears away really hit me this morning. I used to view my illness as a “storm” that I had to get through, but the “storm” has now lasted 12 years, so I had to come to terms that my life is now just very different than what it used to be, or what I hoped it would be. But what got me thinking was that even though God hasn’t healed me, he has wiped away my tears! And that’s quite the miracle: that I could go from a life of sports, travel, and activity, to a life in a rocking chair and that I can still say that life is good, and that God is good!

There are many songs and sayings that speak about God’s transforming power:

• He makes beauty from ashes
• Joy comes in the morning
• He turns mourning into dancing

I used to think that for those to be true God would have to heal me. Only then would He make beauty from the ashes of my illness; only then would I have joy; only then would I dance. But I have come to realize that the true transformative power is when we are still in the midst of pain and suffering, yet we have beauty, joy, and dancing.

Think about it. Which is the greater miracle: God healing me so that I go on with the life I had with a single “God did this for me” testimony, or God meeting me here and now – in the middle of my struggle – giving me strength and courage, and a testimony of God’s daily intervention in my life?

Now, to be quite honest, I would have preferred the healing!! J Nevertheless, I do think that He is working a miracle in my life: He has wiped away my tears, and in their place he has given me joy and a victorious spirit, even as I walk this very hard road that I would rather not be on. By not healing me, He is instead using me to show people the truth of His love and care for us. It sounds crazy, I know! But I do really know how much He loves me and cares for me, because I have to depend on Him every minute of every day. He has not ever abandoned me, even when I couldn’t feel Him. He has been with me every step of the way, holding my hand and guiding me – and some days He has flat-out carried me!

This is the miracle: that I can sit here in my rocking chair, too weak to do much of anything, with my former life gone, and all I loved to do taken away by this disease, and I can still say “It is well with my soul!” He has, indeed, wiped away my tears, given me beauty, given me joy, and set my feet to dancing (metaphorically, at least) – and yet I am not healed. It’s a miracle!

Jesus, Bring the Rain?

There is a very popular Christian song called “Bring the Rain” by the group Mercy Me. This is the chorus:

Bring me joy, bring me peace
Bring the chance to be free
Bring me anything that brings You glory
And I know there'll be days
When this life brings me pain
But if that's what it takes to praise You
Jesus, bring the rain

Those last two lines: no. Just no.

First off, God doesn’t “send” bad things into our lives, for any reason. Bad things happen to us because we live in a fallen world, full of fallen people. But God doesn’t send those things to us. They just happen. Asking God to “bring the rain” is heretical, at best, and self-destructive, at worst.

But, for the sake of argument, let’s assume that bad times are God-sent, and so it’s something we can ask for. As someone whose life has had more than its share of “rain” I can say without question: DO NOT PRAY FOR HARD TIMES! Even if “that’s what it takes to praise” God! It sounds so spiritual for someone to say, “I’m so glad I experienced that (cancer, loss of a job, etc) because I’ve learned so much about God and His love!” But, ask the parent who lost a child if they’re glad their child is dead because they’ve gained so much insight into God’s love through coping with it. Ask the husband who lost his wife and the mother of his children to cancer if he is glad his wife is dead, because through her death he learned more about God’s love. The answer would be a resounding “NO!”

It’s certainly true that through hard times we can learn more about ourselves and about God, but you’d be a fool to ask for these difficulties. Certainly, because of learning to cope with my illness, my relationship with God is deeper than it was before I was ill. But, without a doubt, I would still rather be healthy and living my old life than living this one. The life I have now is HARD!!! This life is a battle. Every. Single. Day. I struggle just to get out of bed. I struggle to make it through the day, without wearing myself out. I struggle to keep depression and despair at bay. Do you really want that?  Really?? Maybe I’m not spiritual enough, but I’m NOT glad I’m suffering this undiagnosed illness that has robbed me of my job, my hobbies, my volunteer work, my very health! Yes, I am glad that I have learned wonderful things through this struggle, and I’m eternally grateful to a God who has been able to bring some good out of it, but I am not glad I’m ill and disabled. I’m not glad that this is how my life has ended up. I am not thankful for this illness. I am only thankful for a loving God who has been with me every step of the way, and who daily gives me strength.

Asking for “the rain” to fall in your life is silly and pseudo-spiritual. If you really knew what it was like to face life-altering struggles, you would NEVER ask for them! For me, knowing more of God is not a fair trade-off for my health and all that its loss entails.  Maybe that makes me a poor Christian or not spiritual enough, but I’m just being honest. I would trade my newfound spiritual growth for my old life – in a heartbeat. In my old life, I knew God and His love for me. I walked with God, I served God. Maybe the depth of my knowledge wasn’t as great as it is now, but I certainly lived a spiritual life, even as a healthy person. So why would I want an illness that has taken away so much of my life, just so that I could feel God’s love a bit more? Sorry, but to me it’s just not a fair trade-off.

So, just stop “praying for rain” – it’s just not good theology, and it’s a false spiritual attitude. God doesn’t send you hard times, and those hard times you do end up going through could rob you of your husband/wife, your child, your health. Do you really want to lose those things in your life? No sane person would. And no loving God would send such things into our lives.