I'm not one of those people who thinks you have to say *just* the right thing to me. If your words tumble out in an awkward mess about my suffering or diseases, I'm just happy you thought of me. Some people have said some crazy things to me regarding my Anesthesia Dolorosa, but I know their intentions are wonderful. Plus, I forget things like you wouldn't believe and words squirt out of my mouth faster than I can suck them back in. I fumble, jumble, grumble and bumble. It takes a lot to offend me and heck, I might even forget it entirely. So never worry about saying or asking the right/wrong thing. I'm an open book these days with thick skin if you don't count the right side of my face and head. haha
But one woman's words struck me to the core of my soul and rattled me weak and broken. She had the BEST intentions in the world. (I have NO bad feelings towards her, btw--> not now and not then).
She and another gal were visiting me even though she knew I was struggling talking. They brought us yummy food and talked for a bit. The woman's first language was not English, so I wasn't sure if she quite understood everything in my situation. She did, to an extent, because she too had Trigeminal Neuralgia. Her story was much shorter than mine and was like most wherein she visited with a neurologist once and was put on 1-2 anti-seizure medications and has had no problems since. She pulled out her two prescription bottles. I had to tell her 3 times that I had tried one of them but my body rejected it and the other one I was currently on (at a much higher dose and several others). I explained that I'm glad her neurologist was good, but I already had TWO neurologists AND a neurosurgeon. (Many people don't understand that what I have is 100000000000000000000000000 times worse than TN-the suicide disease). I love connecting with others who have one of my many diseases-there's a sisterhood in finding someone who has dealt with some of the same pains and struggles. I cried a little but told her how grateful I was that she found relief and was one of those who doesn't have to suffer anymore. She recommended I pray.
The part that struck my heart like a machete, Thor's hammer, the black plague, and a harpoon was when she said, "I asked my husband WHY did I get this miracle? Why was it all taken away? I thought I was going to die and now I don't." Her husband said, "You got a miracle because God loves you."
"...because God LOVES YOU."
I couldn't hold back my tears, but hugged, said good-bye, and sucked in my breath in hopes of keeping the floodgates in until they reached their car. I felt like my breath had been taken away and replaced with rancid poison. (Can poison become rancid?)
I crumbled to the floor and sobbed, bawled, screamed, and howled all at once. I banged my fists against my tingly, weak legs and didn't care how many knives, electric bolts, bugs, punches, scorpion stings, burning, or pounding happened in my face or head. I already wanted to die every minute of every day. Why in the world would it be so in my face (pun intended) that I wasn't healed?
There are very few times in my life that I have grieved so harshly and loudly. Usually my jerk reaction is to numb myself with chocolate, a movie, or sleep until I could regain my composure/strength. This time, though, I went to the scriptures. I read over and over about Christ begging God if there was any other way. He asked 3 times.
Some people have told me that I don't have enough faith or I'm not thinking positively enough. Now, I'm not equating my struggle to Christ's because I know it PALES in comparison. But, Christ fell on his face and pled with his Father in Heaven for relief. And He did not get it. Instead he suffered even MORE. I looked up the apostle Paul (Saul) and his "thorn" in his flesh that would not depart despite his pleas 3 times. He continued on ward despite being imprisoned 2 times, ship wrecked 3 times, stoned, 5 times whipped with 39 stripes, 3 times beaten by rods, faced robbers & conniving people, suffered hunger, thirst, homelessness, sleeplessness, cold, and eventually martyred.
Was God's response cruel? Did He not love Paul or Christ or anyone else who has begged and pleaded and NOT been healed? Did God abandon those who suffered endlessly and only visit those he loved (as evidenced by their 'thorns' or diseases being taken away)? Should any of them have prayed MORE? (**Three is symbolic Biblically as WHOLE or COMPLETE. Often times it is used as a figurative number instead of a literal number. It may literally have been 3 times, but it may have been many more than that. 3 decades? 3 stages of rising and falling hope? Hope, crushed hope, rising hope, shattered hope, baby-step hope, asteroid fallen hope? 3 missions? 3 parts of the night? Either way, I don't know for sure.**)
God said, "My GRACE is sufficient for thee" (I feel like a failure mom and wife at times. But if I keep God as my companion, His grace will make up the difference. As all 3 of us raise my daughter (husband, me, and God), she will become her best self. I don't have to do it all on my own.)
He continued, "My strength is made perfect in weakness. Most gladly therefore will I rather glory in my infirmities, that the power of Christ may rest upon me. Therefore I take pleasure in infirmities, in reproaches, in necessities, in persecutions, in distresses for Christ's sake: for when I am WEAK, then am I STRONG."
I never understood this like I did that day on my knees. First I feel in utter and complete sorrow crushed by the weight of my burdens. Next I prayed, read, prayed, and read until I understood that God DOES love me EVEN when he does NOT heal me.
I am the WEAKEST I have ever been in my life. I was the weakest physically, emotionally, spiritually, and mentally. And yet these incessant pains are teaching me a lot about myself, my strength, and God's power. I'm learning that I HAVE to take time for myself and heal instead of just deal. I cannot run faster than I'm able. (Ahem, I haven't been able to run for 19 years or half of my life, but you get the sentiment). I'm talking to God even more than I ever have before. I've had a very close relationship with God and Christ from a VERY young age. But, this depth of pain has also brought about a depth of closeness and connection that I haven't had before. While I do NOT rejoice in this AT ALL-bless your heart Paul-I do rejoice in the connections I've made with friends, family, and my Father in Heaven.
I still have pains each day that are unbearable. I still have nightmares or PTSD triggers from waking up in my little brain surgery. I still can't do many things without pain. I still mourn the days when I could talk, laugh, and smile whenever and however much I wanted to. Whether I was in a bed, wheelchair, country across the world from my home, or mountain top--->I miss that. Truthfully I may never (in this life) be able to talk, eat, sing, laugh, smile, brush my teeth, shower, etc without paying for it and being forced to stop. But, for better or for worse my pains are reminding me to turn PAIN into POWER and to really look to who has ALL POWER. And that is becoming a strength in my weakness.
