Downcast

Every inch of you is perfect, from the bottom to the top.
-Meghan Trainor, All About that Bass

[…] My soul is cast down within me; therefore I remember you […] deep calls to deep at the roar of your waterfalls; all your breakers and your waves have gone over me.

-Psalm 42: 6-7


I wore my new leopard-print shoes today, for the second day in a row.

It was highly necessary.

I had a doctor’s appointment at 7:30...in the AM. The AM, I tell you. The morning. After a sketchy-at-best night’s sleep, tossing and turning and listening to the trains running along Bellingham Bay all night long, I stumbled out of bed at a very ungodly hour and put my best face forward. And my favorite new shoes. Facing one’s lady doctor that early is no small endeavor, and you gotta be prepared. Knowing that morning is not my best time of day-ha!-I wrote down all my questions, recent symptoms, and advice from the internet on how to get your doctor to listen to you. Be specific. Be descriptive. When does it hurt? What makes it feel better? I found myself having to be more than usually reflective on my chronic pelvic pain. Seeing my monthly woes listed out in plain black and white made me feel even more desperate to have some answers.

I’m glad I had my new shoes on. Leopard-printed courage. The news is not conclusive, but it’s still not the best news I’ve ever received. High levels of hormones due to my increasing age (whaaaaaaaaaaa?) and/or endometriosis.

ENDOMETROSIS???

Another chronic pain condition? On top of my fibromyalgia? Areyouserious.

I admit I’ve had my suspicions for some time, but to hear it as a real possibility from my lady doctor makes it kinda SCARY and REAL. After I woke up a little more after my appointment, the reality sunk in a little more and I had to hold back tears more than once today.

It’s discouraging, you know? You try, and you try, and you try. You pray. Your husband is wonderful and takes such care of you. Your friends and family gather and love on you. You fight through pain and exhaustion until you can’t. You take your supplements, drink your filtered water, heave yourself on the exercise bike, and take many naps. And yet, the body fails. And yet, courage fails. And yet, there are still no easy answers, easy solutions. And yet, there are still many struggles ahead.

So I find myself downcast today, this first day of Fall, this day of imperative cute shoes, this day of glorious, delicious rain. I find myself utterly incapable of the task ahead of me-living life in this new realization of more chronic suckiness. I find myself without bravery or guts today when it comes to facing my pain. All day long, in the midst of foggy shock and disappointment, I find myself clinging to God, to His promises. Remembering that all can be well with my soul, because He is with me. I find myself having to grit my teeth, and choose that His grace is truly and really sufficient in my great weakness. That His light can shine through this very broken jar of clay. That because I have hope in Christ, I am actually very bold. 

I am moving through life right now in one of the great and terrifying paradox of Christianity-when we are weak, then we are strong. Hope is shining through in leopard print flats, faith and grace, and the love of others, but for today, it’s ok to be a little bit downcast.

Here's How We Don't Give Up

I'm tired of giving up so easy
Tired of giving up at all
Tired of giving up so easy
Tired of giving up at all

Nobody said it would be easy
Nobody said nothing at all
And I'm tired of giving up
-Ryan Adams, Tired of Giving Up

Every good gift and every perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of lights with whom there is no variation or shadow due to change.
-James 1:17


It’s been super hard to write lately. 

Like, really hard.

I’ve battling severe fibro pain and aches the last few weeks. There’s been some sleepless nights, some really long days. Everything feels like extra work. Some mornings I wake up and the thought of moving nearly shatters my hips, my feet, my legs, my shoulders. All the things you need to, you know, move around. Taking a shower in the morning can be really killer; I practically need a nap afterwards. Surviving on caffeine, short bouts on my exercise bike, and a remote control, I haven’t been feeling very creative at all. I haven’t written much for the blog, in my journal, or that novel I’m always meaning to write.

And you know what?

I guess it’s ok.

I admit I’m just practicing saying that. The concept of not pushing myself forward forward forward is not sitting well with this perfectionist. It doesn't seem right. How can it be ok to just let it go sometimes? Aren’t we supposed to pursue our dreams, foster our creativity? Maybe it’s ok that my writing will look differently than what I imagined. Maybe I’ll be working out this fibro thing instead when I can open up a blank document? Maybe not the next great American novel?  Maybe by putting my thoughts in order, seeing them on the page, I’ll come to some peace about this condition that seems to eat me alive sometimes. And maybe that’s just ok.

I can tell you instead, perhaps, about the beauty I’ve seen lately, even through the fibro. A friend at work gave me a heated towel for my back-that was a beautiful gift. It told me that someone saw me, and believed me that everything hurt. Or how about the time last week Ben and I sat on the couch and watched cat videos on Youtube  for an hour and laughed ourselves silly? Just to relax together and laugh at hilarious cats was so good. Or the many, many times I’m gathered with friends and family at our local Mexican restaurant eating and laughing and telling our stories together? I see grace, beautiful grace, given me when I’m able to make a meal, fold some laundry, take a walk around the block. There’s beauty in the ordinary. I will say that fibro makes me slow down enough to be able to see that, even when I don’t look up enough.

I want to write about these times, the moments that make up my days. Yes, there are some really hard days, some really hard moments. I cry more easily now. I say no a lot more easily now. But there are so many more instances of grace and love and beauty, even with all the feelings of inadequacy and some stalled dreams. My friends are gifts, sparkling my life with the colorful confetti of their time and laughter. My family is a gift-always caring, always asking, always knowing me. My husband is a gift-his incessant love towards me is daily grace: he makes Jesus look so good. Even my desires to write and be creative and be an artist are gifts from God-He instilled me with them, after all; I can trust Him with my dreams. I must breathe in the middle of this rough season and remember all these good things, all these gifts from our good God. I will write the good things, the hard things when I can, and tell this real-life story.

A lovely moment in Rome with my buddies. 

Some happy faces at my graduation party!

This one keeps me sane and laughing.

My darling family. 

My other always family. 

Me and the One.