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.