When You Have to Start Over...Again

You gotta keep your heart young

Don't go growin' old before your time has come

You can't take back what you have done

You gotta keep your heart young

-Brandi Carlile, Keep Your Heart Young

“…do not be anxious about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be known to God.  And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus.” 

-The Apostle Paul, Philippians 4:6-7

Sometimes you have to start not only where you are, but where you have been. 

I found this the other day when I decided to ATTEMPT some stretching after my afternoon walk. Which is also an ATTEMPT at getting back into some sort of exercise routine. Last month, I was so sick and stressed that I completely fell off my beloved exercise wagon. Now that I’m trying to break my way back in, I’m realizing that while it’s frustrating for anyone who is trying to get into any kind of shape to take two steps forward and one step back, for someone who is only recently enthusiastic about exercise and has fibromyalgia, it feels like two steps forward and 37 steps back. So the point for me this week is just TO MOVE. Just a little to remind my body that YES YOU CAN DO THIS. BECAUSE YOU’VE DONE IT BEFORE. 

While stretching and feeling the BURN, I thought to myself that sometimes you just have to start where you’ve already been. And that’s ok. As a recovering perfectionist, it’d be soooooo easy for me to focus on where I’ve been and that TODAY it just feels like I really SUCK AT THIS and my body will NEVER EVER get back to what it was. But you can only begin where you are at, which sounds dumb and like a lame Pinterest quote, but it is true when attempting anything new or forgotten. This goes for all kinds of things, of course. Like getting back into reading the Bible on a regular basis or eating well on a regular basis or going to bed at a decent time on a regular basis or keeping up with friends on a regular basis. 

I am the worst at anything on a regular basis. Well, when it comes to incorporating positive habits in my life. I can go for days before realizing, “Oh, I should exercise today! I should pull on some shoes and get my backside OUTSIDE.” I can go for days before realizing, “Oh, I should eat something other than leftover carrot cake for every meal!” I will happily get stuck in ruts of not going to bed before midnight before realizing that I should at least TRY to get ready for bed earlier. 

What I AM good at on a regular basis is overthinking and sabotaging my own thought life. SO GOOD AT THIS, YOU GUYS. I will inwardly berate myself for my lack of progress in ALL THE PARTS OF LIFE until I am completely cut off from any positive movement in any direction. So this is why I need the reminder that even I get to start wherever I’m at, even if I’ve been there a million times before. And that’s ok, because we all have to get back up after we get knocked down. We all have to start over. We all get to do things over again. And, as they say, practice makes perfect. Even if perfect isn't quite what we had in mind after all. 

One of the best things about having a chronic illness is that you get to let go of perfect. If you’re like me, this happened while being dragged kicking and screaming. And I still struggle with wanting to do EVERYTHING THE BEST and BEING ABLE TO DO IT ALL MYSELF. I always will, BUT the last couple years of being able to accept my weaknesses and focus on what I can do and can give have been REVOLUTIONARY. There’s such a freedom in letting myself off all the impossible hooks that I was on. When this happened, verses like Philippians 4:6-7 make so much more sense—I HAVE to ask God for help for EVERYTHING. Verses like John 15: 5 where Jesus says we canNOT do anything apart from Him and being continually with Him are so much more real to me now. Chapters like Isaiah 41 where God calls Himself our Helper over and over again mean the world to me more than ever before. Because I can’t help myself. I can’t just wish myself out of my weakness. I get to reach out and ask for help from the One who longs to be my Helper in all things. And He does. He always helps. It may not be in ways I wanted or thought of, but He always provides what I need. And if God Himself doesn’t expect me to do it all on my own, why would I expect the impossible from myself? 

So lately, I have been hearing the call to lay down my impossible expectations and lay down my obsession with all things perfect. I want to give up perfect. I want to stop mourning my past progresses and accomplishments so much, and focus more on what I can do in spite of my limitations. I want to listen to my mind and my body and my heart, and pace myself accordingly. I want to be ready to give grace to my weak places, and in turn, be always at the ready to do the same for others. I am ready to celebrate the smallest of victories, the most minuscule of mustered efforts. When I am already in this mindset, I am more ready to tell you about your victories, too. That you probably didn’t see before, because it’s very uncommon to throw on a party hat for meeting little goals or accomplishments. But in this way, we can all bridge the otherwise looming gap between what the lies we believe about ourselves and what we truly are: more than conquerers in Christ Jesus, people who know that love is our banner and our mission and our foundation. Let’s build each other up, pointing out small successes and happy happenstances. Let’s strive to be more like Christ toward each other, who does not expect the impossible from us, but only what He’s given us to give and to be. 

The water, always the water. 

My beloved Pacific Northwest beaches. 

Autumn skies and wind in the trees. 

Those heavens declaring the glory of our God. 

Coffeeeeeeeeee PICTURE! 

Not Benched: How Affliction Keeps Us in the Race

Why do you let me stay here

All by myself?

Why don't you come and play here?

I'm just sitting on the shelf

-She & Him, Why Do You Let Me Stay Here?

And after you have suffered a little while, the God of all grace, who has called you to his eternal glory in Christ, will himself restore, confirm, strengthen, and establish you. To him be the dominion forever and ever. Amen. 

-1 Peter 5:10-11

Benched. Shelved. Back seat. Hung up to dry. 

That’s how I feel a great deal of the time, what with one thing and another in life. Sometimes the chronic pain means I get to be fashionably late to my own day. Sometimes I make my coffee and toast and stumble back to bed, where I make a to-do list of what I’m going to do precisely when I can get up and get moving.

Being physically in pain every day makes me feel shelved in many ways. Paying attention to my body and attempting to pace myself means I have to be STUPID CAREFUL with my time and energy, which means saying no to lots of things, including good things. That’s just plain annoying. Needing to ask for help in household chores and shopping makes me feel pretty incapable sometimes, and I don’t like that at all. 

However, I think the biggest way that I feel BENCHED IN LIFE is the very dangerous and very real game of comparison. And man, is it KILLER. Some days, on the ones where I feel physically low already, it starts to feel like EVERYONE ELSE is out doing SOMETHING IMPORTANT. Something MEANINGFUL. Everyone else is OUT THERE. They are in it, they are running their races, they are getting AFTER IT. And here I am, waiting to get out of bed so I can shower when most people are probably on their lunch breaks. 

The truth of it is, of course, the Everyone Else I refer to in my head probably doesn’t feel like he or she is out there killing it. Everyone Else is struggling with something. I don’t know one single person in my life right now who ISN’T going through some kind of major difficulty, trying to sort out life’s cruel curveballs, trying to just do the best they can with what they have. Married, single, employed, unemployed, homeowner, renter, 20s, 30s, 40s, 80s. We all have something, don’t we? Something that makes us feel like we’re just watching life go by. The really good, juicy, happy parts of life. We all feel limited and stuck and weak sometimes, or maybe most of the time. And it makes sense that Everyone Else’s life starts to look a little better, a little easier, a little happier. 

Even with all this, affliction is not a word our culture uses very often, is it? We use words and phrases like stress, unfulfillment, need-more-self-care, going-through-a-hard-time-right-now, case-of-the-Mondays. I think we all tend to downplay our real sorrows, our real hardships, whether they’re physical, emotional, mental, or related to whatever life stages we find ourselves in. We are all very polite about our sorrows, because burdening each other or appearing weak or not in charge of our destinies is admitting that WE DON’T HAVE IT ALL TOGETHER. And that seems to be one of the worst indecencies we can commit in the Western 21st century. 

The Bible, however, was written in a time where people were brutally honest about their sorrows, like almost TOO honest for our Western ears. They called them what they were. Suffering. Affliction. Deep sorrows. Great troubles. I feel like honesty is a bit of a buzzword in our society these days, as though it’s some kind of magic incantation: if we can somehow be HONEST, our troubles will shrink and everyone will understand us if we can just be TRANSPARENT IN COMMUNITY. But what the honesty of the writers of the First and New Testaments does is lay a foundation for their relationship with God first of all. The Psalmists pour out their hearts and sorrows and sufferings before God Himself—they tell the truth about their sorrows. Beginning with their suffering allows them to move on to asking for help, to remembering God’s power and presence and love, to truly being dependent on their Creator and Redeemer. And this is a lesson I so desperately need to learn as a post-modern-living follower of Jesus. 

Of course, Jesus Himself tells us not to be surprised by our afflictions; as a matter of fact, he PROMISED SUFFERING. He promised the world would hate those who follow Him. But He promised then, as God promised all throughout the First Testament, that He would be with us, that He would be our Helper. He would be with His people, and His presence is truly enough. His nearness is what sustains us, from the beginning of the creation all the way to the 21st century.

When I read the Bible or talk with other Christians who have troubles, I slowly start to realize that having afflictions, having limitations, having weaknesses, having hang-ups, is not an automatic benching. Our troubles don’t strike our names from running the race. I’m still in it, with my chronic pain. You’re still in it, no matter what you’re facing. God still has things for us to do and to be—they probably just look really different from what we had in mind. They will be different because we will need His help and presence to do them. In our many weaknesses, we must abide in Him, if we want to do any thing at all (John 15). We are, as the Apostle Paul says in his second letter to the Corinthian church, afflicted but not crushed; perplexed, but not in despair; persecuted but not destroyed; always carrying around in the body the death of Jesus, so that the life of Jesus may also be manifested in our bodies (2 Corinthians 4: 8-10). This is a great mystery, and one that I don’t fully understand, but as His followers, we somehow get to participate in the great life of Jesus Himself through our sufferings. He uses us in our limitations and it’s a beautiful and glorious thing to see His love and power at work in ways we couldn’t have imagined. 

Leaves and walking shoes: glorious. 

Nature: good for what ails. 

Beauty. 

The Joy of Not Being Surprised

"I don’t know, Nick! I’m not…Wonder Woman.”

-Bernard, Blackbooks

A cheerful heart is good medicine,

    but a crushed spirit dries up the bones.

-Proverbs 17:22

I have a new tool in my Life Toolbox. It’s amazing. I’m not even sure where it came from, but it’s changing the way I see myself, my days, and my circumstances. 

You see, with fibromyalgia (or whatever THIS is), most mornings involve not moving for a while because of mysterious aches and pains. So I have some time to stare at the ceiling while it seems the REST OF THE WORLD goes on with its business. As you may imagine, my thoughts and ponderings in this time can get a bit WEIGHTY. A bit HEAVY. 

It’s pretty much proven that what we think affects us physically, although I cheerfully have no sources to cite for you (this isn’t college! This isn’t even in MLA format). The books and blogs and research I’ve read on chronic pain all deal with changing how we think, in addition to medication, exercise, healthy diet, finding the right doctors, reducing stress, etc. While we may not be able to have much control over our pain, we do get to choose how we think about it. There are some days I’m able to accept my pain and move on; there are other days where it’s all I can think about because it’s so DANG PRESENT. 

Ah yes, the TOOL. 

Here it is: 

This is not unexpected. 

Here we go AGAIN, Summer Flowers.
I will try not to kill you as quickly as previous summers,
but IT WILL NOT BE UNEXPECTED.

Now I realize that this phrase is subtle and quiet in demeanor, making it easy to overlook or dismiss, or maybe it sounds more like a bad line in an action movie when the good guy pops out of nowhere after the bad guy ordered his henchmen to “take care of him.” But! I’ve noticed that when I think this in the morning instead of the usual “Oh my gosh…this is so hard…I can’t move…why me… when will this end…what did I do yesterday to make this happen…when will this end?”, it makes a huge difference. You see, while it still doesn’t give me any false delusions of control (over chronic pain?! bwhahaha), it gives me some much needed perspective. You would think that struggling with chronic pain for years would help me in accepting my usual morning fate, but NOT REALLY. Deep down, I know I’m the Wonder Woman of the Greater Belllingham Area. However, not being surprised by my morning pain gives me a chance to still move forward. Thinking This is not unexpected stops the Splash Mountain plunge of self-crushing thoughts. It gives me the freedom to plan the next step in the day. I get to think “Oh! Right! I’ve done this before. I can do it again today.” I move on to think what I can do when I can get up. 

Ironically, another thing this tool does is give me permission to not expect a horrible morning, either. There is a very fine balance with chronic pain: you don’t want to be surprised by it, but you don’t want to make it worse by assuming it will be terrible. Because, as we know, thinking negatively makes pain worse. It makes everything worse, really. This tool of not being surprised by the difficult things helps me to be realistic, as opposed to needing to be rigidly optimistic all the time OR needing to be pessimistic to acknowledge the pain itself. There’s no need to have a stiff upper lip when you know your limitations and can work around them, just like there’s no need to give in to your limitations all the time. 

See how brilliant this is? I am so excited about this, I can’t EVEN. 

My jolly balcony, wherein I survey my domain.
But mostly read and drink iced drinks.

Because this tool can applied to other areas of life, too! Let’s take, oh, PEOPLE. People, all of them, bless their hearts, are going to let us down. They can’t help it. None of us can. And when we’re not as easily surprised by this, it makes it so much easier. When we can identify foibles and quirks and tendencies, we are free to let others off the hook. We are free to offer grace, mercy. We are free to have a hospitable heart and mind towards others. Thinking this is not unexpected can stem some of the inevitable annoyances and frustrations that comes with being a human with other humans. I am sure you are beginning to see the sheer GENIUS of this humble sentence. 

It also helps with needing to cancel or reschedule plans, as is always the case with chronic pain. It’s not unexpected to need to take a few days off from activities after a busy weekend. Having THE TOOL handy helps me not go insane when I look around the house at my waiting chores: a pile of laundry waiting to be folded, a sink full of dirty dishes, or realizing that because I haven’t wiped up the hair on the bathroom floor in 2.345 hours, it’s taken over that whole side of the house. I’m not a terrible person for not having my house look like something out of an HGTV show, because it’s not unexpected (regardless of if I have chronic pain or not!). Naming and recognizing my individual limitations helps me extend grace to myself, which is hard for this recovering perfectionist. 

Although I balk at the Words on Walls Trend,
I couldn't help myself with this one. 

When we can say This is not unexpected, we can even allow room for God to come through for us. The Apostle Peter says, “Humble yourselves, therefore, under the mighty hand of God so that at the proper time he may exult you, casting all your anxieties on him, because he cares for you (1 Peter 5:6-7).” Peter is not joking when he links casting our anxieties to humbling ourselves—he knows exactly what he’s saying here. It’s a real blow to our pride to admit, let alone embrace, that we can’t handle our anxieties and cares and worries alone. I’m realizing that it’s taking my whole dang life to keep giving my worries to Him. But because He cares for me, I can. The Creator of the universe, of the heavens and the earth and everything in them, cares for me! And nothing in my life is unexpected to Him—He is not surprised when I take back my worries, when I can’t move in the mornings, when troubles hit me upside the head. Even though I can’t explain why He allows pain in our lives, I know He is present in the very middle of it. And I have found that He is indeed enough, time and time again.

And so I hope this little phrase can be of some use to you, too. When pain hits you, when trouble mounts, when things are not going how you want them. It also helps in the little things. You know, when my flowers start to wilt 2 days after planting or I get an unexpected bill in the mail. Or when I open the fridge to look for some produce to supplement my carb-based, fat-based diet and it is no longer viable as a edible option. Not that THAT has ever happened, I mean. 

What are some tools in your Life Toolbox? What helps you get to the Next Thing in your day? I’d love to hear about them!

While We’re Waiting, Let’s Make Pancakes

I like to use 'I Can't Believe it's Not Butter' on my toast in the morning, because sometimes when I eat breakfast, I like to be incredulous. How was breakfast? Unbelievable. 

-Demetri Martin, comedian

When they got out on land, they saw a charcoal fire in place, with fish laid out on it, and bread. Jesus said to them, “Bring some of the fish that you have just caught.” So Simon Peter went aboard and hauled the net ashore, full of large fish, 153 of them. And although there were so many, the net was not torn. Jesus said to them, “Come and have breakfast.” Now none of the disciples dared ask him, “Who are you?” They knew it was the Lord.

John 21:9-12

The pure goodness of pancake joy. 

I’m going to be honest with you guys. It’s been a long season of waiting. Just standing around, well, lying around, to be even more honest. Waiting and longing and hoping and trying for physical wellness and wholeness. It feels like I’m waiting in the dark, and I am waiting for someone to flip the switch. In the middle of the long waiting, Ben and I try new things. We continue doing the good things, even though we can’t see results. We try to rest in the eye of our storms. We hang out with our family and friends. We listen to good music and watch good shows and make good food and go on good walks together. So we survive and strive and press forward even though our way is often veiled. 

Speaking of food (easily distracted over here), breakfast is definitely one of the good things. It's one of my all-time favorite times of the day and of LIFE. Breakfast food IS life, really. Think about it. All of the really good foods are contained under the Banner of Breakfast.

Bacon. Coffee. Pancakes. Waffles. TOAST. Hashbrowns. Omelettes. MIMOSAS. Doughnuts. Cereal. Cinnamon rolls. French toast. 

One evening not that long ago, I was searching the cupboards for some much-needed dinner inspiration, as we all do. I happened upon a half-used box of gluten-free pancake mix and thought YES. It’s been too long since I had pancakes in my life. I made a Smoothie Surprise (which is code for clean out the fridge and freezer and throw it in the blender and see what happens) and mixed up the batter. I married a genius, and he literally brought the bacon home to go with our breakfast feast. We slathered our pancakes with ricotta cheese and strawberry jam (highly recommend…we’ve been doing this on ALL the toast as of late) and peanut butter and maple syrup. Breakfast bliss, I tell you. 

So what does this have to do with waiting? Well, we still have to do stuff while we wait. Even while we wait and hope, we can still do things we love and make delicious food and be with those we love. We can still have pancakes. When we continue to move forward even in the dark, we will be strengthened and helped and encouraged. Maybe what we’re waiting for is hindering what we can do right now. In that case, we must find new ways and new things to love and do and make. I can’t run right now. But I can walk or ride my stationary bike. I can’t make cookies the way I used to. But I can figure out a new way to bake and create sweets. 

The disciples knew about waiting, too. About living and waiting and hoping and pressing forward. After the resurrection of Jesus, after he appeared to his disciples, Peter still needed to do something, to fill his time, or even to feel normal after all these mind-boggling events. And he went back to what he knew best—fishing. And of course, he and his friends didn’t catch anything, didn’t have anything to show for their efforts, as is so often the case with waiting. And what does Jesus do after this long night? He gives them not only a full catch of fish, but breakfast. Jesus cares about all our needs—He knows that not only do we need breakfast, we also need him to come and make all things right again. 

Jesus could have provided that full catch in the middle of the night, when Peter and his buddies were trying so hard. But by waiting, the disciples were filled with so much more than a hot meal, weren’t they? This whole experience confirmed who Jesus was—they didn’t need to ask who it was on the beach: “they knew it was the Lord.” And this is what we need in our lives, in all the mystery and the sorrow and the sudden joys—to know that it is the Lord who provides, who loves us enough to be with us. It is the Lord who makes our meals communion, who uses something as daily as our daily bread to reveal more of himself. While we wait, let’s look for him on the shore, trusting him to provide and sustain us in all things. 

8 Ways to Deal with Chronic Pain

Lying in bed would be an altogether perfect and supreme experience if only one had a colored pencil long enough to draw on the ceiling. 
-G.K. Chesterton

So we do not lose heart. Though our outer self is wasting away, our inner self is being renewed day by day. 
-The Apostle Paul, in 2 Corinthians 4:16

Chronic pain is a microscopic view of normal living—it forces you to focus and zoom in on what’s happening here, now. And it has the potential to actually be amazing in many ways. For the past few years, I have been muddling my way through my fibromyalgia and endometriosis, seeking ways to improve life while living in chronic pain. We can always be looking for that calm in the eye of our storms, looking for ways to be ok in spite of physical trouble. Here are a few things that have helped me tremendously, in no particular order. 

8) Be Prepared to Modify

One of the hardest things is to realize that your life and how you do things MIGHT/WILL  have to change. If you’re anything like me, this is hard to swallow every time you realize that SOMETHING has to give, whether big or small. A couple months ago, I finally gave in and realized that using my shower loofah felt like dragging tiny razors over my sensitive skin and changed back to using a soft and fluffy washcloth. Weird, but true. Weird, but helpful. On a related note, I now can’t just take a shower and GO GO GO. For the past year or so, I now have to work in a flat-on-back rest time after a shower. For whatever reason, different temperature, extra movement, etc, taking a simple shower requires extra thought and planning. It’s uncomfortable changing our lives because it feels like GIVING IN to our condition, but it’s ok because we are caring for ourselves in spite of it. 

7) Everyone Has an Opinion on Your Condition

This one is never going to go away. It just isn’t. People will tell what you that their aunt’s cousin’s brother’s mother’s friend had the EXACT SAME THING and that THIS IS WHAT WORKED FOR THEM and now they scale mountains and host large parties every weekend.  And here’s the only thing you can do without running away screaming—just say an honest thank you. Honestly. What we chronic pain sufferers need to remember is that people only offer advice because they care and want us to feel better. What most people don’t realize is that there is no magic bullet and we really have tried just about everything. Even though it’s hard to listen to yet another round of Have You Tried, I think it’s important to appreciate that people care enough to speak up. And when we’ve been on the receiving end, it’s easier to simply have compassion for others in hard situations, to simply say “I believe you.”

6) Figure Out What Really Helps You…and Do It

The name of the game on this one is Trial and Error. For my various conditions, gentle movement, following a mostly whole diet, and rest and pacing myself are huge. Also drinking more water than coffee. All things I’m naturally terrible at, but they are worth it. I also know that being alone is key to my mental and physical sanity, so working that in is essential. When it comes to exercise, may I recommend finding a super scary physical therapist who will intimidate you into action? Ha! This worked for me this summer, and now I’m actually moving more days of the week than not! Finding some kind of accountability is really good for those things that We Just Don’t Want To Do. I sure don’t do any of these things perfectly, but identifying what actually helps and what doesn’t is worth the time and effort. 

5) No One is Going to Understand You Perfectly

Ah. My old nemesis. How I wish this wasn’t so. Because chronic pain is usually invisible and weird and funky and not the same for everyone, most people will not get us and this hurts. On top of the physical pain we already feel! But even though this does not feel good, it’s normal. And it’s ok. When we seek constant validation from others, we lose every time. Chronic pain gives us an opportunity to believe ourselves for a change, and know that what we are experiencing is real and it’s really not our fault. When we believe this, we don’t need all the outside affirmation that we think we do. This means it’s a real treat when someone does believe us or sits and listens or sends a card or a message, instead of being our lifelines. This means you can allow people to flow in and out of your life, holding all relationships with open hands. Not all relationships will remain life-giving and it’s ok to let go, whether it’s doctors or friends. Also, no one will completely understand your Netflix queue…and that’s ok. Own that queue, man.

4) Work in Ways to Still Do What You Love…and Find New Things to Enjoy

I looooove baking AND strawberries. WIN. 

Living with constant chronic pain and fatigue is exhausting. And it takes up a lot of time. Like, a lot of time. It’s always shocking when I realize how long it’s been since I finished a book. I freaking love reading and books and grammar and punctuation and all those good things. ENGLISH MAJOR HELLO. This is one of those things that if I make a conscious effort to make time to do on those days when I’m not feeling so fibro-foggy in my brain, I will feel more like my old self again. Identify those things that make you feel like you, and sneak them in. And be open to new things that you can do while resting on the couch or the front porch. Sometimes I like to just paint terrible watercolors while watching tv. It’s just fun to drag the paintbrush around a little. Or plant some flowers in an easily accessible spot and limp outside to spend some time in the fresh air and poke at your plants. It’s good, people. It’s all good. 

3) Do Your Own Research…but Don’t Overdo It

There’s a lot of information out there, my friends. A lot of information. How do we research wisely? How do we sift through the information that we read without going absolutely bonkers? Doing our own research and being our own advocate is key, but we have to rein it in, too. Or you will go crazy feeling guilty and overwhelmed, and it can take over your life—this whole trying to feel better and get back to normal life business. So when you start to feel a bit crazy, take a step back and note all the things you DO that are awesome and helpful. Drinking more water this month? Yay! Exercised 2 or 3 times this week? YOU ROCK. Remembered your supplements? You inspiration, you. 

2) Pacing and Asking for Help is Key

I want to do it all. And I want to do it myself. I’m sure you can identify. I used to think that when I had a good day, I should strike while the iron is hot and DO EVERYTHING ALL AT ONCE. Clean the bathroom, vacuum the house, do the errands, and finish the laundry. Bam. But now I’m realizing that on good days, I still CAN work on my to-do list—now I just need to build in breaks. That whole pacing thing. I can still get stuff done, but with more sitting and more resting. Also, on bad days and good days, it’s always good to consider asking for help. I’ve found that I’m the only one judging myself for needing something, and that everyone is really and actually glad to help. It’s crazy. Also, when people offer help, don’t just say no. Consider how they really can help, and step back. 

1) It’s Ok to Have Bad Days

This is foundational for chronic pain/chronic anything sufferers. We can pace, plan, exercise gently, eat well, etc, and sometimes days are still just unexplainably hard. It’s ok to be disappointed when we wake up and just know it’s going to be a long painful day. For these days, I recommend having a plan of some kind to get you through it. For me, it’s showering at some point, having snacks at the ready, watching murder mysteries, moving for at least 5 minutes and stretching for at least 5 minutes, and asking my husband to take care of dinner. Which he usually does anyway, because he is a saint. It’s also ok to cry at various times throughout these days, or wait till someone comes over and you can cry on them. If you can laugh at funny show or with funny friends, that is maybe even better. Distract yourself in good ways from pain and ruminating too much on hard things. See if you can get up and do a load of laundry or start the dishwasher. Go outside for a few minutes and just breathe. You can do this. You can do Bad Days and survive. You can have this idiotic chronic condition and do your best with it. 

What I’ve realized after writing this list is that I will always need everything on it. Always. When I get better, God willing, I will still need to ask for help. I will still need to remember that no one will understand me ever the ways I want them to. I will still have hard days where I will just to need to hold on and think of ways to live well in spite of what life throws at me. People are always going to have opinions. And that’s just ok. This chronic pain has forced me, ungracious and slow to budge from my own opinions, to rethink things, and this is a good thing. 

Hope > Weariness

So lift your voice just one more time

If there’s any hope may it be a sign

That everything was made to shine

Despite what you can see

So take this bread and drink this wine

And hide your spirit within the vine

Where all things will work by a good design

For those who will believe

Josh Garrels, Beyond the Blue

For we know that the whole creation has been groaning together in the pains of childbirth until now. And not only the creation, but we ourselves, who have the firstfruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly as we wait eagerly for adoption as sons, the redemption of our bodies. For in this hope we were saved. Now hope that is seen is not hope. For who hopes for what he sees? But if we hope for what we do not see, we wait for it with patience.
The Apostle Paul, Romans 8: 22-15

It’s March 20th, the first day of spring. A new season, winter is over. Flowers will soon be in full bloom, the trees will awaken from their long hibernation. The days will continue to lengthen, letting the sun shine longer shadows into the evenings. Around the Pacific Northwest, people will dust off canoes and bicycles and hiking shoes. Folks will switch hot lattes and mochas for iced coffees. Sunglass sales will go up, as our Washington eyes are still used to grey and rainy days. Thoughts go to sprucing up decks and balconies and porches, and spring-cleaning the inside of homes. Exercise routines will move from gyms and in front of TVs to outdoors at last, warmer and less wet weather beckoning us to tracks and parks and hiking trails. 

Bringing spring inside! 

Today I’m home with fibromyalgia. Full of deep aches and insidious fatigue, I’m laying on the couch in my two favorite blankets, in long grey yoga pants and my ancient black fleece jacket with the replaced zipper. The rain has been beating against all the windows today, heavy wind blowing down the stove vent. I’ve already taken one nap, and in contemplation of another. I found some leftovers in the fridge for lunch, thankfully, which I ate while watching an episode of Poirot. I’m surrounded by empty water glasses and half-eaten bags of trail mix and half-read books. 

All this to say I’m not feeling my most springy or full of ready-to-bloom potential. Still exhausted by a recent colonoscopy, I’m now staring down an exploratory laparoscopy in a couple of weeks, to hopefully diagnose endometriosis. The last month has been full of preparations and paperwork and calling doctor’s offices and appointments and talking to supervisors and insomnia. Not to mention fighting a horrendous cold and viral infection. Even though I’m not ready to hit the trails or plant a garden, I’m very much looking forward to a changing of seasons, both outside and in all these physical circumstances. I’m praying in desperation that all the seeds planted in wild hope in the last month will come to some kind of fruition, that all the preparation and plans will provide answers and action to take. I’m ready for spring in this body. 

I’m ready to wake up in the morning and not feel pain everywhere. I’m ready to hop in the shower and get ready for the day without needing a rest afterwards. I want to be able to go on a hike or walk on a rocky beach in this beautiful part of the world on weekends, without having to think twice. I want to say yes to social invitations without having taking stock of my physical abilities. I’m ready to have activities in the evenings after work once in a while without needing every single one to rest. I’m so ready to say goodbye to brainless distractions and pursue true leisure, like reading more and writing and being creative in the kitchen or with paper and charcoal. I’m looking forward to feeling my age, and not like a 90 year old trapped in this body. 

For now, it’s still the middle of a long winter for these bones. For now, I do what I can. I take steps towards feeling well. I rest when I have to. Ben and I make our home beautiful and inviting and easy to relax in. Every doctor’s visit, every call to my insurance company, every salad and smoothie I consume, every nap I take, every gentle stretch and walk, every time I say yes to seeing friends and family, is an act of radical hope and faith. And this all is truly enough while I wait. I am hanging on to hope that while this is a truly tiring and confusing season, it is only a season. Seasons change and ebb and flow. Flowers blossom and trees turn green only after winter’s cold months. Let’s hang on to hope together. While we face life with all its curves and setbacks, let’s look forward to all the good things that are waiting. 

Searching for the Next Well

I don’t know about the truth. I only know how I feel. 
Agatha Christie, The ABC Murders


Count it all joy, my brothers, when you meet trials of various kinds, for you know that the testing of your faith produces steadfastness.
James 1:2-3

So, you guys. I’m prickly right now. About health, about pain, about advice or questions from well-meaning people. Even though I’m making some surprising progress with appointments and scheduling procedures to find things out (hellooooooo colonoscopy!), it’s all feeling a bit desperate. 

It’s harder and harder to focus on the positive. Or even do things that supposedly have a positive impact. Today, for example, I needed to get out of the house. Like, for reals. Yesterday I was down with Horrible and Bad Cramps that stopped me from moving around the house, let alone outside of it. So today, a beautiful and gorgeous sunny day only found in the Pacific Northwest, a walk sounded ideal and even necessary. 

Inspired by a friend who did the same this morning, we drove to the Boulevard Park, a paradise of water and green lawns and big rocks and lovely walkways. But everyone else in the world had the same idea for this afternoon, too!  We finally made our way to the boardwalk—I was overwhelmed by the sheer amount of people, dogs, bikes, scooters, skateboards. I can’t remember feeling that claustrophobic in the open air! Touching shoulders with nearly every passerby, and being told “BIKES!” from behind. Shudder. You would have thought all that exposure to vitamin D (the first from actual sunshine in months) would have helped somewhat, but alas. More aches and pains descended, and coupled with the intense struggles of the last few weeks, and well, you have a disappointing Sunday. 

The patience necessary for all these things isn’t always at the ready, I admit. It drains away with the daily exertions of Life. I’m waiting for anything to improve. Anything at all. I don’t always know how to find my next well. I can’t trust dietary changes or exercising or rest or surgery or any new health claims. It’s so hard to find my center in all this chaos—it’s always been so key to me to be at peace within my head and soul. I want to find again the things that bring me peace and happiness and meaning. I want to discover new things that inspire creativity and deep purpose. I want to feed my soul even while my body is holding me back. I want to sink into Scripture again and find peace. I want to experience again the redemptive love of Jesus. 

I want to read my books and write my thoughts and watch my murder shows and drink my coffee without guilt—to recharge so I can be fully present with the ones I love. I want to make beautiful things and have a hospitable home for others to come into. I want to move my body in exercise without feelings of ‘is this enough?’ or ‘is this too much’? or ‘is this even right??’ I want to shed the guilt that comes with chronic conditions. I’m constantly judging myself for canceling on people, for resting, for asking for help when I long for independence, for saying no too many times, for asking people to come over instead of being able to go out. I want it to be ok if my house isn’t perfect, if my clothes aren’t folded the minute they come out of the dryer, if my face shows the strain of chronic illness. 

I am not sure what the next few weeks hold, what with various procedures and appointments. Will we find anything conclusive? PS. Please don’t let it be IBD or IBS. Please please please. Regardless of what we find, I need my peace of mind to be anchored in something other than medical know-how. I have a feeling that any road to any sort of recovery is going to be long and annoying. I must keep searching for deeper wells of renewal and strength. This is where the real struggle is—because there will always be hard things, there will always be the temptation to give in, and give up on hope. There is always a choice to keep hoping and searching for the good things in life, the things that bring us hope and peace, and I want to make that choice every day. 

It's the Little Things

Your albatross, let it go, let it go,
Your albatross shoot it down, shoot it down
When you just can't shake
The heavy weight of living
-Bastille, The Weight of Living, Pt 1

Do not lay up for yourselves treasures on earth, where
moth and rust destroy and where thieves break in and steal, 
but lay up for yourselves treasures in heaven where neither moth
nor rust destroys and where thieves do not break in and steal. 
For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also. 
-Jesus of Nazareth, Matthew 6:19-21

This might sound dumb, but I just CLEANED MY HOUSE. 

All day long, I’ve been looking forward to coming home (duh) and CLEANING (weird. also unusual). As soon as I got home, I put in the second-to-last load of laundry from the weekend that didn’t quite get done, and changed into home clothes. Then I found the duster and went to work. I do wonder why most of my furniture is dark—note to self: spray paint or get lighter furniture that won’t show AS much dust. Geez, it pops up so fast. After dusting the bookshelves and the coffee table and the TV stand, I heaved out the vacuum and got going on the carpets. I found myself feeling a little perhaps TOO proud of myself for vacuuming when I realized that the thing was set to HOSE not CARPET. Oops and that’s what I get for feeling smirky. At least I was still in the first room I started. While I didn’t get under ALL the furniture, I did move the coffee table and the dining room chairs, so I get major points. Of course. Then because I was still moving, I wiped down the bottom shelf of the fridge. Because you know what collects down there. Shudder. 

I can’t even tell you how I feel right now. It’s probably like how Julius Caesar must have felt upon his triumphant entry back in Rome after conquering everything and everyone. 

It felt so good to accomplish some Real Things on my stagnant To-Do List. I’m forever making impossible To-Do Lists for myself—impossible even if I didn’t have chronic pain—and feeling bad about myself because I usually just end up on the couch staring around my house at all the things I was GOING TO DO, or watching another B-movie because A) Duh, and B) it’s easier than feeling bad about not DOING ENOUGH. Ben-Who-is-Truly-My-Better-Half does about 89.4854398674% of everything around the house, and I am sooooooo thankful. He cooks, he cleans, he shops, he vacuums, he does bathrooms, he is the Man. I always want to do more, though. I want to pitch in and “do my part,” whatever that means. Since we’ve been married, my ability to help out has diminished INCREDIBLY, and sometimes it’s super hard to fight the feelings of inadequacy and guilt. Feelings of panic roll in: “Isn’t this a PARTNERSHIP? I DON’T FEEL LIKE I’M GIVING ENOUGH. OMG HE’S DOING EVERYTHING. HE’S NOT EVEN COMPLAINING. HE’S SCRUBBED THE TUB OUT THE LAST 73 TIMES. I AM A WRETCHED WIFE. WOE IS ME FOREVER AND EVER AMEN.’’

But while I was wiping out the fridge, on my knees surrounded by cold bottles of bbq sauce and hard cider and salsa, I found myself asking, “Is this what makes me a good wife? A good person? A good anything?” Sure, I mean, it’s great to be able to move around enough to wave the vacuum around and swipe at dusty surfaces. I LOVE THAT. It makes me feel so normal and even thankful to be able to indulge in a little clean-up. As a chronic pain feeler, anytime I get to participate in daily activities, I am overwhelmed by gratitude and a sense of accomplishment. Did I make it to work? LOOK AT ME GO! Did I shower today? HECK YEAH! Did I go to dinner with friends? OMG I’M NORMAL. Did I go shopping and get some errands done? WATCH OUT WONDER WOMAN. 

I think I waste a lot of time, though, thinking that it’s DOING all these things will make me a good wife, a good friend, a good whatever. And doing is sure part of leading a good life. But it’s not what makes me a good wife. I need to ask myself other questions, like did I listen to Ben today? Did I tell him I love him yet today? Not did I make the bed today, but did I make the most out of my time with him today, whatever that might look like? These questions are also flowing over into other parts of my life—did I make the most out of my time with my friend? Did I give 100% at work today? Am I looking for things and people to be thankful for, even when I can’t get off the couch and reach for the duster? I’m slowly, ever so slowly realizing that I can make shorter To-Do lists with an open mind, knowing that it’s probably NOT the end of the world if I didn’t Do IT ALL. And that checking things off a list doesn’t make really make me the person I want to be. 

Because I don’t want my heart, my treasures to be tied up in clean floors. Or In having a tidy pantry. Or a picture-perfect, Pinterest-perfect bathroom. I don’t want to get to the end of this life and look back on my years and only have some scrubbed tiles of which to be proud. I want to enjoy time with my Ben, with my friends and family and co-workers. I want to enjoy belonging to Jesus—I want my heart to care about what He does, to invest my life and heart in what He’s about—loving Him and loving others. I want to be able, at the end, to say I was overjoyed at my life and the things and people He’s given me. I want to be faithful in the small things, like housekeeping when I can, and know He can use something even like that to bring me to fuller truth. So here’s to striking when the iron is hot and getting things done when possible, and to living life to the fullest even when our lists are long and we’re not able to get it all done. Because we are more than ok because we are loved by Jesus, more than ok when we love fully. 

This Good Life

It’s four in the morning and I’m turning in my bed-
I wish I had a dream or a nightmare in my head,
So I drop my imagination and get some sleeping done
Now it’s five in the morning and I’m wishing it was one.
-M. Ward, Four Hours in Washington

Be gracious to me, O Lord, for I am languishing; 
heal me, O Lord, for my bones are troubled. 
-David, king of ancient Israel, Psalm 6:2



I miss my pre-fibro body. I miss my pre-fibro brain. I miss my pre-fibro activity level. I guess I’ll always be mourning that, huh? Who wouldn’t miss feeling less pain, less aches, less fatigue? It’s hard to hang on to perspective. That things are still good and full of hope, in spite of my physical circumstances, which flavor every part of life. How to lean past this pain? How to embrace my body as it is? How to live well day by day? There are so many rough things I can focus on, so many hard things to which my attention is naturally drawn. 

So. 

The pain is bad. 

The pain is real. 

All of my feelings are real and true. 

But. 

There are good things still. And good things have come into light because of my health. 

My love and I enjoying a beachly stroll in between naps. 

My marriage has not suffered-in fact; the love we have has grown: strong and rooted and deep. It’s very beautiful. Ben’s care for me is practical and emotional and kind and generous and gentle. There are many times where I cry and cry and cry and he just holds me and strokes my hair and tells me it’s ok to cry, ok to feel, ok to be hurting, and it’s not my fault, that he loves me more than ever. This is very beautiful and true. 

The friendships I have are also beautiful. The ones who have come alongside me and Ben, the ones who come over and plop on the couch with me. They go out to dinner with us when I can manage it. They text me and email me and ask how I’m doing, and they really want to know. They believe me. That is huge. 

Being a Christian is different now. It’s also growing deep roots. I keep having to test it against my new circumstances. And it’s ringing true. Christianity is ringing hard, yes, but so true. I am finding that all the Psalms about asking God to rescue, to sweep down out of the sky and banish all the enemies—I can relate so much more. I am finding that crying aloud to this God who sees all my desperate hours-asking questions, voicing doubts, always comes full circle to thankfulness and peace. It is becoming more and more true to me that physicality and health and circumstances can be ripped away in a flash, but that the love of God is true. That the love of His people is true. That He allows others to be His hands and feet to me. 

God cares about my health, yes—He cares about this body He created. He doesn’t want me to be sick or in pain. This is not part of His plan. But I am also learning the hard lessons of His timing vs. my timing; how His very mysterious ways are not my ways—how there are times when He doesn’t appear until the dawn. How His silence is real sometimes, and I’m just not going to get it, how I’m just not going to get this Christianity thing. But it still makes the most sense to me in this crazy, messed up world. I’m learning that He can really use the broken, the wounded, the used-up, the sick. That His strength in our weakness is actually enough, and actually full of grace. Even when we think we’re alone and that prayer is just talking to the ceiling, He really is there, too. This relationship is different than any other—to worship and follow an invisible God is full of peril and doubt and trust and faith. 

The Good Life is looking much different than the one I imagined or expected. It really is hanging on tight to joy, and looking for the brightness in the dark. Once I begin to accept my smallness brought on by ill health and reduced pride, I can see how big and beautiful and large this life is. How good this life is.