Faith, hope and trust

My lesson from my massage and emotional healing session tonight... "We don't have all the information. So when we don't have the information, we can choose fear and worry, or we can choose faith, hope and trust in God. And when you know, you will just know." I don't have all the information about my upcoming surgery and recovery and the outcome. And I have been extremely worried and fearful.but tonight, I choose to trust and hope in my God instead of fear.

Independent Woman!!!

I have always been a big "do it myself" person. I bashfully admit that I loved the Independent Women  song by Destiny's Child when I was in middle school. And I rock out hard to Run the World (Girls) by Beyonce in my car often... "Strong enough to bear your children, then get back to business!"

In high school, I was in a choir that started practice at 6:30 in the morning. So I had to get up and get ready to leave by about 6:05. I remember my mom commenting on how great it was that I was able to get myself up and get out without her helping. It was not the same for my brothers. I hate group projects, and would rather just do the work on my own. I have taken the assemblies at my school, and work with various groups of kids by myself to get them all ready on my plan time. If I need something moved, I don't wait to ask for a janitor, I do it myself. (The janitor at my old school used to get SO mad at me and threaten to call my husband when I would be moving risers down the hall!)  I don't mind any of this one bit. I am a very take charge, get it done person.

And then there is the after surgery time.

My principal has already commented to me, "After this, when you come back to work, you are going to have to be good. YOU ARE GOING TO HAVE TO LET PEOPLE HELP YOU!" I told her, "Man, I've only been working here 3 months, and you already really know me!"

I am not allowed to lift ANYTHING. I can't bend at ALL. I am not even allowed to lift my hands over my head to get a juice glass. The last few surgeries, this has been hard. I would drop a pill, and start bawling that I couldn't get it on my own. My hubby would almost be laughing at me, and would pick up the pill. But man, it drives me CRAZY to be so not independent. (I did eventually learn how to put on my underpants with one of those grabbers like old people have. It was my fight for independence. Grabber underpants.)

Now, I am about to enter a time of more non-independence. I will really have to rely on others. My husband is so amazing with this, and he is so great at taking care of me in these moments of weakness.

I am nervous because the hubby will be gone for a business trip for a week at about the 5 week mark after surgery. I will still have lots of restrictions. No arms above my head... how will I get dressed? Wash my hair? Comb my hair? Get breakfast? Get all my things into the car? It is going to be rough, and it makes me feel very weak and volunerable.

I think this is also where I struggle a lot in my faith. I want to take charge of my life. I want to be independent some times, and not rely on God to take care of my struggles. I am strong, I can handle them, RIGHT? Wrong. I have been so down the last few days, and have felt so weak emotionally, mentally and physically. This is how we are as humans. We are not strong enough to do it on our own. We MUST rely on God's strength and grace to get us through. We are volunterable people. In my realization of "How am I going to wash my hair when Bryson is gone?" it really illustrates to me how we can't do life on our own. We need a family of faith to surround us and God's never failing grace to pull us through.

I think I have the hair washing stuff maybe figured out (a stuffed plastic glove on a stick? Ha!). But I don't always have the reliance on God figured out. I am so thankful that he keeps whispering to me, "I'm here Sarah. Let me have your troubles. Fall at my feet and I will take care of your every need." Thank you God for your amazing grace.

Each time he said, “My grace is all you need. My power works best in weakness.” So now I am glad to boast about my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ can work through me. That’s why I take pleasure in my weaknesses, and in the insults, hardships, persecutions, and troubles that I suffer for Christ. For when I am weak, then I am strong. - 2 Corinthians 12:9-10

what if???

December 17.

December 17.

December 17.

I can get there.

This is the day of my SCS permanent implant surgery. I am going to admit, I have a lot of doubt about whether this will work. Or whether it will be just another surgery with an extremely painful recovery (this surgery will probably be MORE painful than my other one.). Am I going to be in extreme amounts of pain after surgery? Is it going to work? Am I going to be crazy disappointed when again I come out and feel awful? Could it mess things up more? ... what if? ... What if? What if?!?!

My heart has been completely overwhelmed with what ifs when I think about this surgery. So I have tried not to. I have also tried really hard lately not to think a lot about God through all this. I have felt lately that I am here alone. I am feeling very "Oh God, why have you forsaken me???"

Two Bible passages have really been speaking to me in my "what ifs" and my "Are you there God?" The first one I heard from the Women of Faith conference this week, from the author Angie Smith.

⁸ When Isaac grew up and was about to be weaned, Abraham prepared a huge feast to celebrate the occasion. ⁹ But Sarah saw Ishmael—the son of Abraham and her Egyptian servant Hagar—making fun of her son, Isaac.¹⁰ So she turned to Abraham and demanded, “Get rid of that slave woman and her son. He is not going to share the inheritance with my son, Isaac. I won’t have it!”

¹¹ This upset Abraham very much because Ishmael was his son. ¹² But God told Abraham, “Do not be upset over the boy and your servant. Do whatever Sarah tells you, for Isaac is the son through whom your descendants will be counted. ¹³ But I will also make a nation of the descendants of Hagar’s son because he is your son, too.”

¹⁴ So Abraham got up early the next morning, prepared food and a container of water, and strapped them on Hagar’s shoulders. Then he sent her away with their son, and she wandered aimlessly in the wilderness of Beersheba.

¹⁵ When the water was gone, she put the boy in the shade of a bush. ¹⁶ Then she went and sat down by herself about a hundred yards away. “I don’t want to watch the boy die,” she said, as she burst into tears.

¹⁷ But God heard the boy crying, and the angel of God called to Hagar from heaven, “Hagar, what’s wrong? Do not be afraid! God has heard the boy crying as he lies there. ¹⁸ Go to him and comfort him, for I will make a great nation from his descendants.”

¹⁹ Then God opened Hagar’s eyes, and she saw a well full of water. She quickly filled her water container and gave the boy a drink.
Genesis 22:8-19

In this story, Hagar's "What ifs?" became her "What is!" She was sent away... with only a little bit of human provision (a small thing of water, a bit of bread) and was basically told "Good luck!" by the father of her child. She ran out of human provision. She sat down and couldn't stand to watch her child die.

But then God said to her, "What's wrong? DO NOT BE AFRAID!" Angie Smith pointed out here that God "opened Hagar's eyes." It is possible that the well, which would give her life and strength, was there all along! But she hadn't opened her eyes to God's provisions for her... she was too focused on her "What is" to allow to see God's "What is." And through this, God made a huge line of decendants (now that part gets a little interesting to me that this story was used...) But this is an amazing example of not letting YOUR "What ifs?" get in the way of God's "What is!"

The second passage is one of my favorites.

²¹ “How long has this been happening?” Jesus asked the boy’s father.
He replied, “Since he was a little boy. ²² The spirit often throws him into the fire or into water, trying to kill him. Have mercy on us and help us, if you can.”

²³ “What do you mean, ‘If I can’?” Jesus asked. “Anything is possible if a person believes.”

²⁴ The father instantly cried out, “I do believe, but help me overcome my unbelief!”
Mark 9:21-24

This reminded me very much of the song "Great is Thy Faithfulness." At Women of Faith, we sang Great is Thy Faithfulness. As I was singing it, I was thinking, "Lord, is your faithfulness great? Have you been faithful to me? I am still in so much pain. I have been living like this so long. I can't have kids right now. I can't jump around with my school kids. I can't carry instruments all over. I can't do any of the physical activities I used to love. God, is your faithfulness really great?!?!" As we kept singing,

Thou changest not, Thy compassions they fail not
As Thou hast been, Thou forever wilst be

I kept thinking, Lord. I believe this. I believe your faithfulness is great. I believe that you won't change, and your compassions will not fail me. You forever will be great. Lord, I believe. Help my unbelief. And I kept singing... it being my prayer. Great is Thy faithfulness, Lord unto me. Great. Forever. Lord, I believe.

I do not know what December 17th will bring. And I am sure many more tears of what ifs and fear and "Are you there God?" tears will fall. BUT. Lord I believe. Help my unbelief.

Strength for today and bright hope for tomorrow
Blessings all mine with ten thousands beside.

Hard wired for sound

I am all a buzz with electric current! It really seems to be helping with nerve pain. We learned again though how high maintenance I am. All my nerves are pretty tightly bundled together. We kind of found that out with my last surgeon too, when they thought I had a tumor on one of my nerves. In reality my nerves are just super tightly wound. Imagine that. So when they were trying to place the electrical leads, It took a really long time, Because finding the sweet spot where the current should run through Would send the sensations all over to weird spots. But they finally got them in and I am I'll abuzz.

In other news, I actually stayed home this afternoon. I am so bad about forcing myself to go on and just work through the pain. Before my first surgery, I was told daily to go home. But I just pushed through. And I have posted a few times about how hard I push myself. But today, I am taking care of myself. I am resting for one more half day. Go me. :)

...with endurance and calm...

Once again, the eve of another medical procedure. Tomorrow afternoon, I will go to the hospital and they will insert electric leads into my epidural space of my spine. The wires will come out of my body, and a battery pack and stimulator will be attached to the wires. The stimulator will send electric currents through the wires into my spine, which will keep the nerves from firing pain signals to my brain. One of my classes got it out of me why I was going to be gone a big chunk of the week, and one of the kids said "...Does this mean you are going to be a robot?" To which I replied, "Yes, yes I am." Unfortunately, while this is in, I cannot shower (showering with electrodes going into your body is probably not a good idea, unless you are going for an Albert Einstein hairdo). So, I will be a stinky robot. I understand if no one comes to visit me in the next week.

I am extremely anxious to see what this new procedure will bring. Will it help? Will it be another failure? Will it help enough to warrant another major surgery? Is it going to suck a lot to recovery from a huge needle going into my spine tomorrow? (I will be asleep, but not totally under anesthesia).

Through all these questions, I felt a huge sense of peace about this procedure. I had even felt very at peace with the probability of another surgery to have this done. Back in July, I was told I would need another disc/spine surgery, and I was NOT at peace with that. I knew that was not the right choice for me. But all through this exploration of SCS, I felt very at peace.

Until this morning!

I have joined a couple facebook groups recently that have people that deal with chronic pain, especially back pain. I joined a new group this week and asked about SCS. The responses people gave were horrifying. Stories of allergies to the metal, infection, trauma during surgery, not being able to get it out if it stops working, surgeons messing up... whew! I was very very scared this morning. Something I had felt at peace about all month.

I went to church still a bit scared about it all. Then, the sermon was on fear during the times where we are lost, when we are looking at a multitude of paths that go many different ways, and when we journey to places that create these intense fears. The scripture was from Isaiah 43:1-5:

When you face stormy seas, I will be there with you with endurance and calm; you will not be engulfed in raging rivers. If it seems like you're walking through fire with flames licking at your limbs, keep going, you won't be burned. Because I, the Eternal One, am your God. So don't be afraid. I am here. -THE VOICE translation-

I was in tears listening to the pastor's story of being lost on a mountain. I felt very lost on top of a mountain this morning. Not sure what to expect, so scared that I would have a horror story like some of the people I spoke with this morning. Something I had felt so at peace about, so hopeful about, was suddenly wrecking my body with intense fears. But in reading this verse, I could feel God whispering in my ear, "My child. Remember, I am here? You are not alone. I am walking beside you."

The pastor also reminded us that as a community of faith, we are walking together with others. There may not be things that people can DO to fix it, but knowing that I have friends who are walking beside me during this time, is another reminder that I am not doing this alone. What an amazing support system I have, and I am very thankful for that.

I have no idea what tomorrow and the next week will hold during this trial. It could be great, it could be bad. It could dash hopes of another failed attempt to get pain and nerve damage symptoms under control. It could make me cry with happiness of not feeling intense pain anymore. I don't know. I really liked how the pastor ended his sermon today, saying that we may not make our way back to what was. But with the help of God and our support communities, we will find a new place of stability and peace together. I don't know what this new place of stability and peace is, and I may not find hope of it this week. But I am very thankful that God is continuing to whisper in my ear,

"You don't need anything Sarah, for I am your Good Shepherd, I will provide for your needs. I will let you catch your breath, even in the valley of death, for Sarah, I am all you need." Psalm 23 paraphrased by J.J. Heller and personalized for me

spoon theory

I read this this week, and thought about how well put it was. I am so very blessed in that I have quite a few spoons every day, many more than many people living with chronic pain. But as my last post talked about, I am really bad at borrowing spoons from other days, which makes my weekends very low key, trying to gain back some of those spoons. A great article for understanding chronic pain.

 

Presented in the online Facebook Support Group: Failed Back Syndrome – The pain that stays (Files) By Annette Kocka.

The Spoon Theory

by Christine Miserandino www.butyoudontlooksick.com

My best friend and I were in the diner, talking. As usual, it was very late and we were eating French fries with gravy. Like normal girls our age, we spent a lot of time in the diner while in college, and most of the time we spent talking about boys, music or trivial things, that seemed very important at the time. We never got serious about anything in particular and spent most of our time laughing.
As I went to take some of my medicine with a snack as I usually did, she watched me with an awkward kind of stare, instead of continuing the conversation. She then asked me out of the blue what it felt like to have Lupus and be sick. I was shocked not only because she asked the random question, but also because I assumed she knew all there was to know about Lupus. She came to doctors with me, she saw me walk with a cane, and throw up in the bathroom. She had seen me cry in pain, what else was there to know?
I started to ramble on about pills, and aches and pains, but she kept pursuing, and didn’t seem satisfied with my answers. I was a little surprised as being my roommate in college and friend for years; I thought she already knew the medical definition of Lupus. Then she looked at me with a face every sick person knows well, the face of pure curiosity about something no one healthy can truly understand. She asked what it felt like, not physically, but what it felt like to be me, to be sick.
As I tried to gain my composure, I glanced around the table for help or guidance, or at least stall for time to think. I was trying to find the right words. How do I answer a question I never was able to answer for myself? How do I explain every detail of every day being effected, and give the emotions a sick person goes through with clarity. I could have given up, cracked a joke like I usually do, and changed the subject, but I remember thinking if I don’t try to explain this, how could I ever expect her to understand. If I can’t explain this to my best friend, how could I explain my world to anyone else? I had to at least try.
At that moment, the spoon theory was born. I quickly grabbed every spoon on the table; hell I grabbed spoons off of the other tables. I looked at her in the eyes and said “Here you go, you have Lupus”. She looked at me slightly confused, as anyone would when they are being handed a bouquet of spoons. The cold metal spoons clanked in my hands, as I grouped them together and shoved them into her hands.

I explained that the difference in being sick and being healthy is having to make choices or to consciously think about things when the rest of the world doesn’t have to. The healthy have the luxury of a life without choices, a gift most people take for granted.
Most people start the day with unlimited amount of possibilities, and energy to do whatever they desire, especially young people. For the most part, they do not need to worry about the effects of their actions. So for my explanation, I used spoons to convey this point. I wanted something for her to actually hold, for me to then take away, since most people who get sick feel a “loss” of a life they once knew. If I was in control of taking away the spoons, then she would know what it feels like to have someone or something else, in this case Lupus, being in control.
She grabbed the spoons with excitement. She didn’t understand what I was doing, but she is always up for a good time, so I guess she thought I was cracking a joke of some kind like I usually do when talking about touchy topics. Little did she know how serious I would become?
I asked her to count her spoons. She asked why, and I explained that when you are healthy you expect to have a never-ending supply of “spoons”. But when you have to now plan your day, you need to know exactly how many “spoons” you are starting with. It doesn’t guarantee that you might not lose some along the way, but at least it helps to know where you are starting. She counted out 12 spoons. She laughed and said she wanted more. I said no, and I knew right away that this little game would work, when she looked disappointed, and we hadn’t even started yet. I’ve wanted more “spoons” for years and haven’t found a way yet to get more, why should she? I also told her to always be conscious of how many she had, and not to drop them because she can never forget she has Lupus.

I asked her to list off the tasks of her day, including the most simple. As, she rattled off daily chores, or just fun things to do; I explained how each one would cost her a spoon. When she jumped right into getting ready for work as her first task of the morning, I cut her off and took away a spoon. I practically jumped down her throat. I said ” No! You don’t just get up. You have to crack open your eyes, and then realize you are late. You didn’t sleep well the night before. You have to crawl out of bed, and then you have to make your self something to eat before you can do anything else, because if you don’t, you can’t take your medicine, and if you don’t take your medicine you might as well give up all your spoons for today and tomorrow too.” I quickly took away a spoon and she realized she hasn’t even gotten dressed yet. Showering cost her spoon, just for washing her hair and shaving her legs. Reaching high and low that early in the morning could actually cost more than one spoon, but I figured I would give her a break; I didn’t want to scare her right away. Getting dressed was worth another spoon. I stopped her and broke down every task to show her how every little detail needs to be thought about. You cannot simply just throw clothes on when you are sick. I explained that I have to see what clothes I can physically put on, if my hands hurt that day buttons are out of the question. If I have bruises that day, I need to wear long sleeves, and if I have a fever I need a sweater to stay warm and so on. If my hair is falling out I need to spend more time to look presentable, and then you need to factor in another 5 minutes for feeling badly that it took you 2 hours to do all this.
I think she was starting to understand when she theoretically didn’t even get to work, and she was left with 6 spoons. I then explained to her that she needed to choose the rest of her day wisely, since when your “spoons” are gone, they are gone. Sometimes you can borrow against tomorrow’s “spoons”, but just think how hard tomorrow will be with less “spoons”. I also needed to explain that a person who is sick always lives with the looming thought that tomorrow may be the day that a cold comes, or an infection, or any number of things that could be very dangerous. So you do not want to run low on “spoons”, because you never know when you truly will need them. I didn’t want to depress her, but I needed to be realistic, and unfortunately being prepared for the worst is part of a real day for me.

We went through the rest of the day, and she slowly learned that skipping lunch would cost her a spoon, as well as standing on a train, or even typing at her computer too long. She was forced to make choices and think about things differently. Hypothetically, she had to choose not to run errands, so that she could eat dinner that night.
When we got to the end of her pretend day, she said she was hungry. I summarized that she had to eat dinner but she only had one spoon left. If she cooked, she wouldn’t have enough energy to clean the pots. If she went out for dinner, she might be too tired to drive home safely. Then I also explained, that I didn’t even bother to add into this game, that she was so nauseous, that cooking was probably out of the question anyway. So she decided to make soup, it was easy. I then said it is only 7pm, you have the rest of the night but maybe end up with one spoon, so you can do something fun, or clean your apartment, or do chores, but you can’t do it all.
I rarely see her emotional, so when I saw her upset I knew maybe I was getting through to her. I didn’t want my friend to be upset, but at the same time I was happy to think finally maybe someone understood me a little bit. She had tears in her eyes and asked quietly “Christine, How do you do it? Do you really do this everyday?” I explained that some days were worse then others; some days I have more spoons then most. But I can never make it go away and I can’t forget about it, I always have to think about it. I handed her a spoon I had been holding in reserve. I said simply, “I have learned to live life with an extra spoon in my pocket, in reserve. You need to always be prepared.”

Its hard, the hardest thing I ever had to learn is to slow down, and not do everything. I fight this to this day. I hate feeling left out, having to choose to stay home, or to not get things done that I want to. I wanted her to feel that frustration. I wanted her to understand, that everything everyone else does comes so easy, but for me it is one hundred little jobs in one. I need to think about the weather, my temperature that day, and the whole day’s plans before I can attack any one given thing. When other people can simply do things, I have to attack it and make a plan like I am strategizing a war. It is in that lifestyle, the difference between being sick and healthy. It is the beautiful ability to not think and just do. I miss that freedom. I miss never having to count “spoons”.
After we were emotional and talked about this for a little while longer, I sensed she was sad. Maybe she finally understood. Maybe she realized that she never could truly and honestly say she understands. But at least now she might not complain so much when I can’t go out for dinner some nights, or when I never seem to make it to her house and she always has to drive to mine. I gave her a hug when we walked out of the diner. I had the one spoon in my hand and I said “Don’t worry. I see this as a blessing. I have been forced to think about everything I do. Do you know how many spoons people waste everyday? I don’t have room for wasted time, or wasted “spoons” and I chose to spend this time with you.”

Ever since this night, I have used the spoon theory to explain my life to many people. In fact, my family and friends refer to spoons all the time. It has been a code word for what I can and cannot do. Once people understand the spoon theory they seem to understand me better, but I also think they live their life a little differently too. I think it isn’t just good for understanding Lupus, but anyone dealing with any disability or illness. Hopefully, they don’t take so much for granted or their life in general. I give a piece of myself, in every sense of the word when I do anything. It has become an inside joke. I have become famous for saying to people jokingly that they should feel special when I spend time with them, because they have one of my “spoons”.
© Christine Miserandino

Martha Lillie

I am a type A+ personality. I do not do well sitting still. My husband always tells me, "you have a unique ability to fill up every spare moment of your time with something." Since my injury, I have had to slow way down. But, I try not to. I push myself like crazy. I wasn't allowed to come back to work when I wanted to after my first surgery, I think partly because, wisely, my principal knew I would push myself like I always do, and then hurt myself again. (Well, that happened anyway without the restrictions they tried to put on me!) I now am helping run a free piano lesson program at my school, teaching choir for 60+ kids once a week on top of my full time job (a job i jump and boogie down in on my feet all dsy every day) and just recently, started working in our after school program till 6:00 two nights a week now too.

I told my hubby that I was going to be at school till 6 two night a week now. Oh boy, was I in trouble!

I know my limits well. And I ignore them and push through them till I medicate to get through. Bad Mrs. Lillie. I have a friend who was recently "grounded" by her PT for doing too much. I probably need to be grounded too. And, not lying, I probably won't slow down until someone really grounds me.

Last year I posted about how this school year I couldn't do as much, but instead, I was going to do love and grace. I feel like I am full of lots and love and grace... But I still do do do and don't rest well. And I am awful at saying no,especially when I want to be doing something. And it makes me MAD to not be doing everything. I was so mad when my hubby said "Your health is not good, you can barely keep up with your job and your body right now, why are you doing all this?" So mad. And then so depressed.

Recently, I met with a girl with a lot of medical problems, who was telling me that she used to be such a servant until all her invisible diseases knocked her down. I told her about reading from the Having a Mary Heart in a Martha World recently. I told her that sometimes you need to let others serve you. There is a time to be a servant and a time for us to sit down at Christ's feet,slowing down, and basking in the love of God. We don't always need to be doers. (Preachin' to yourself Mrs. Lillie?)

I am Martha. My season of trying to be Mary, and not Martha has lasted way longer than I hoped.  I am so very Martha.



As Jesus and the disciples continued on their way to Jerusalem, they came to a certain village where a woman named Martha welcomed him into her home. Her sister, Mary, sat at the Lord’s feet, listening to what he taught. But Martha was distracted by the big dinner she was preparing. She came to Jesus and said, “Lord, doesn’t it seem unfair to you that my sister just sits here while I do all the work? Tell her to come and help me.”
 But the Lord said to her, “My dear Martha, you are worried and upset over all these details! There is only one thing worth being concerned about. Mary has discovered it, and it will not be taken away from her.” (Luke 10:38-42 NLT)


I can hear myself saying these words. "Lord, doesn't it seem unfair to you that a young person, with so much drive and desire, and want to do all this work, but you want me to just sit here? While others do all the work?"
"My dear Sarah. You are worried and upset over all this. But there is only one thing you should be concerned about. come, Sarah, sit at my feet. Worship me. Love me. Spend time with me. This will not be taken away from you."

So. This is the time to slow down. I am still learning how to have Mary characteristics. But this is my season right now. I can't keep pushing through my limits. I need to rest in The Lord and spend time at His feet. I know tomorrow I will try to be Martha again, because a blog post isn't going to change me right away.  But I am thankful for my God who continues to say in my Marthaness, "there is only one thing to be concerned about, Sarah. Come here my child, and rest in me."


For everything there is a season,
a time for every activity under heaven. A time to be born and a time to die.
A time to plant and a time to harvest. A time to kill and a time to heal.
A time to tear down and a time to build up. A time to cry and a time to laugh.
A time to grieve and a time to dance. A time to scatter stones and a time to gather stones.
A time to embrace and a time to turn away. A time to search and a time to quit searching.
A time to keep and a time to throw away. A time to tear and a time to mend.
A time to be quiet and a time to speak. A time to love and a time to hate.
A time for war and a time for peace. (Ecclesiastes 3:1-8 NLT)

Our daily bread

I grew up Baptist. I learned very early on that anything high church was not really the way we did things. So when I started going to an Episcopal church in high school with a friend, all the responsive readings and reciting things was so weird to me. I HATED it. I thought, "How can anyone worship with the same routine over and over again. That isn't new and fresh. This is not worship."

HOLY TOLEDO WAS I WRONG!

I attend the Methodist church now, and while there isn't as much "high church" as there was in the Episcopal church, there are robes (which my baptist old self still wants to rebel against) and responsive readings, and, what has become one of my favorite parts of worship, the Lord's Prayer. Every week this prayer is the same. It's said every week, same words, same time of service. It could get monotonous. But it definitely has not.

As of late, there has been a line that every week almost makes me openly weep.

"Give us this day our daily bread."

Now, this may seem like a fairly simple line. Most of the people I associate with (not including the kids at my school.... Whole other issue) don't have an issue with having the daily food they need to survive. However, I am not sure this is necessarily referring to food. I heard a whole sermon series on the Lord's prayer once that was excellent (kudos to our Missouri pastor, Mitch J) and he made this point about our "daily bread" not necessarily being about food. To many of you, you might be saying "Yeah, duh Sarah." I don't think this is a mind blowing concept. But recently this line in our weekly prayer has really been getting me.

Every day is a struggle for me. The pain, the exhaustion from living in pain, the emotionality of constant pain, all the drugs... Etc.  Asking for daily bread feels like a lot. I struggle to get through many days. There is a lot that I feel like I need God to provide to get through the day. But here is the thing. He does. So many people tell me they cannot tell that I am in pain all the time. Even though days are a struggle, I am so thankful for God providing for my daily needs. I do get through my days. I do make it with a fairly joyful spirit most of the time. I do have so much support on the really bad days.

When praying every week, "give us this day our daily bread" it is a reminder of God's provision through this time. This gets me every time. Who am I, Sarah Lillie, that God chooses to provide for me and my daily bread? Thank you Lord, for my daily bread.

Living is about more than merely eating, and the body is about more than dressing up. Look at the birds in the sky. They do not store food for winter. They don't plant gardens. They do not sew or reap-and yet, they are always fed because your Heavenly Father feeds them. And you are even more precious to Him than a beautiful bird. If He looks after them, of course He will look after you. -Matthew 6:25b-26

Very patient endurance

This week was full of a couple interesting doctor appointments. On Monday we went to a doctor in Boulder, where I had an EMG to determine what nerve damage might be there. Well, there was nerve damage. Yes, I was surprised! The never was not severely damaged, but moderately. So on Wednesday I drove to Denver to see a specialist in spinal cord stimulation. He said I was a "very good candidate" for spinal cord stimulation. After some consideration, talking with my surgeon back in Kansas City, some praying... We are pursuing this option.

There is lots that will happen before the surgery would actually happen. I will have to undergo a psych evaluation I guess. We will do a trial of the stimulator where all the wires are outside me. If it works, I will then schedule a surgery. Which will be invasive. Probably at the same level if not more than my last surgeries. I am hoping to do this mid-December... If everything works out.

I am pretty conflicted about this. Very hopeful that this may fix my pain. But for crying out loud... More surgery?!?! We were supposed to go to Orlando at the beginning of January. I didn't want to take more time off work. I wish it were all easier.

I have gone back and started reading "Patient Endurance" again (Hebrews 10:36) As we keep going down this road, I am continually repeating this verse over and over again. I am hoping God continues to help me with patient endurance through yet another journey toward surgery. This hymn has been in my head today:

My hope is built on nothing less
Than Jesus' blood and righteousness
I dare not trust the sweetest fame
But wholly lean on Jesus' name
On Christ the solid rock I stand
All other ground is sinking sand

i am so thankful that God is unchanging, unwavering, and steadfast in His love. I am thankful that my hope rests on Jesus.

 There is still a lot of feelings and sadness to still go through. I am sure there are many more tears to cry before it is over. And I am still not optimistic about results actually allowing me to get off medicine and reclaim the life of a healthy 27 year old.

Patient endurance.... Patience endurance... Patient endurance...

Christ alone, Cornerstone
Weak made strong in the Savior's love
Through the storm, He is Lord
Lord of all
Hillsong - Cornerstone (includes the words of Solid Rock)

a rushing river

I am so blessed with an amazing job. This week, I have been 100% reaffirmed in my choice to work at a hard school, with a lot of kids who have immediate family in gangs and jail, kindergartners who cannot identify the number 2 or 5 or 8, and almost all my students living in poverty. I love my job so much.

I have been SUPER thankful that my back is not hurting nearly as much. I am able to sit on the ground with the kids again, I can stand up for long periods of time and not be in pain in my back. Praise God! I know it's not perfect, and there is still a little bit of pain, but I think that since the surgery the pain in my back has decreased about 75%.

But my legs and left foot are such a mess. They hurt all the time. And when my foot starts feeling like it's being stabbed by a billion needles at once, it is so awful. All this nerve damage is really hard during my drive and towards the end of the day, and I haven't been sleeping much because my legs hurt so bad. It is kind of controllable with medicine. The medicine makes me even more tired though. It is such a hard cycle to break. I take medicine, and feel a little better, and almost fall asleep during kindergarten music class. Or I don't take my medicine, and don't fall asleep until midnight and don't sleep well after that (have to be up at 5 now). I came home one day and told Bryson, "I love my job, but I hope my body can handle it."

I just continue to trust that God has sustained me thus far. After so much pain, he is still holding me up. He is still, through my pain, showing His grace and love through me to these kids. I was searching for some new music last night, and I found this song, River God, by Nichole Nordeman.

Sometimes raging wild

Sometimes swollen high

Never have I known this river dry.

The deepest part of you

Is where I want to stay

And feel the sharpest edges wash away.

There are times where I don't feel God right there with me. When my legs are burning and twitching in bed at night with my hips cramping up, I'm not thinking, "Oh God, I feel you in this pain!" But, I know, that through it all, I have never known this river dry. Praise God for his continued sustenance, even when it's not exactly the way we feel it. For me, it's the continued grace that God is pouring from me for these kids. How, through the roughest trials in life, do you see God sustaining you?

The Lord who made you and helps you says: Do not be afraid, O Jacob, my servant, O dear Israel, my chosen one. For I will pour out water to quench your thirst and to irrigate your parched fields. And I will pour out my Spirit on your descendants, and my blessing on your children. They will thrive like watered grass, like willows on a riverbank. - Isaiah 44:2-4 NLT

an annoyance

Yesterday I started PT for the possible RSD in my foot and the post-surgical back problems. Well, to help with the hyper-sensitivity in my foot, the PT has told me to have my husband brush different fabrics against my foot until I can't stand it, then stop and start over, until I become desensitized in my foot. Basically, I got a prescription for Bryson to annoy me! Ha!

new hope

Do not forget to rejoice, for hope is always just around the corner. Hold up through the hard times that are coming, and devote yourselves to prayer. - Romans 12:12


Yesterday I talked to my surgeon in Missouri. And we went to see a surgeon in Boulder. Both of these surgeons agreed that I do not need more back surgery right now! PRAISE the LORD!

But...

The surgeon in Colorado is concerned that with all my neuropathy and problems in my foot, I might have Reflex Sympathetic Dystrophy Syndrome, or RSD. This is a fairly serious disorder, and needs to be taken care of pretty quickly if I do indeed have it (Missouri surgeon was not convinced this was my main problem, but is open to exploring it). I am still trying to figure out what this disorder means, but it is not "cureable." It can go in remission, but won't be ever all better if I do have it. So tomorrow I start more physical therapy, and will have another EMG. Both surgeons did agree that exploring the spinal cord stimulator is a likely next step if things do not improve.

This has been quite a journey, and while it is not even close to over yet, today I am seeing and feeling some hope. Hope is such a tricky thing. Many people have said to me in the last month, "I have hope for you!" If it's someone I don't know too well, I've said "Thank you." If it is someone I know well, I tell them, "I am glad you do, because mine is completely gone." Saying that I had lost hope, I was concerned that not having hope for physical healing was turning my back on God. I am not sure that was it. I think it was more just not able to find acceptance of God's answer of "No" to my physical healing. Man, finding acceptance on God's plan for your life is HARD when it no where near matches what YOUR plan for your life is. Now, having a battery operated device implanted in my spine and having a possible non-curable disease in my leg is still not any where near where my plan for my life was. But I am feeling hope, hope that God hears my prayers for healing (though it might not be what I thought it was going to be), hope that someone might be able to help, hope that I can continue with Christ by my side through this journey.

I hope that this day, this week, you find some hope in what journey you are going through too.

So we have no reason to despair. Despite the fact that our outer humanity is falling apart and decaying, our inner humanity is breathing in new life every day. You see, the short lived pains of this life are creating for us an eternal glory that does not compare to anything we know here. So we do not set our sights on the things we can see with our eyes. All of that is fleeting, it will eventually fade away. Instead, we focus on the things we cannot seem which live on and on. - 2 Corinthians 4:16-18

grace

Last Wednesday, I was invited by two ladies in my church to come to the yoga class our church has on Mondays.

Oh, no way. I thought. Yoga is something I did a lot of pre-injury. Something I miss dearly, along with running and swimming and biking.

"But it is extra gentle yoga!" they assured me. "I bet you could do it!"

I decided to go tonight but be very careful.

It was the most at peace and blessed I have felt in a long time.

The instructor would begin before every change of move with "If it feels right for your body..." Sometimes it did not. And I wouldn't do it. And that was fine. The word grace kept popping in my head through the whole practice. Honor where my body is on the journey right now. It's not a good place, but that place must be honored. And give myself grace for where I am today.

It did not matter that my bridge pose was less than a centimeter off the floor. And it didn't matter that my cobra pose was more of a tiny, infant baby cobra. It was a safe place, with very few people that were so loving and open and beautiful in their welcoming of me.

There are many Christians that do not believe yoga is "Christian." Today, God's grace flowed through these ladies, through this man who led the practice, and God's peace of acceptance of where I am on the journey was very present. Praise God for the blessing of this day.

Namaste.

the meds

Oh, how I long to be free from the meds. When I skip a dose, because "Oh, today I am feeling pretty okay", it is just awful by the end of the day.  I told Bryson tonight, "I HATE being dependent on meds!" We're still seeking guidance for what to do next. Hoping to have an idea about what to do by next week.

This week I went to a lecture on the "Theology of the Hymnal." Did you know that in every publication of the United Methodist Hymnal, the first hymn has always been Oh For a Thousand Tongues to Sing. I have had a friend this summer who has had such a hard time with her new baby girl, who has not yet left the NICU after about 6 weeks. As I post on her wall my prayers for her, I have recently been ending them with the phrase "We pray this in the name of Jesus, who charms our fears, and bids our sorrows cease." This is from the hymn O For a Thousand Tongues to Sing. At this lecture the other night, we sang through this hymn and this line. I wanted to burst into tears after singing this line, but I didn't think it was appropriate for the new associate pastor's wife to show that much emotion. So I quietly wiped my couple tears away, as I reveled in that line. Jesus. The name that charms our fears. With His strength, He takes our fears away. Jesus. Who bids our sorrows cease. This is not the sorrow that He wants me to be living in. What a beautiful line.

Sadly, right now my reality is living life very uncomfortably, in lots of pain, very hazy, or a combination of these three. But I am thankful for my Jesus, who charms my fears, and bids my sorrows cease.

my prayer

Trying to make this the desire of my heart this week:

Give me death, give me life. Give me sickness, give me health. Give me honor, give me shame. Give me weakness, give me strength. I will have whatever you give. Amen.
- Prayer by St. Teresa of Avila -

round 3?

Small rim-enhancing fluid collection posterior to laminectomy beds.


Thick enhancement of the epidural space bilaterally around both transitioning S1 nerve roots.

Disc protrusion with annular tear.


These were words I didn't really want to read on another MRI report of mine this week. One surgeon is suggesting more surgery. We have a few other opinions to seek. There really are no words to express how disheartened, how sad, how frustrated this makes me. A friend asked me tonight, "Are you at peace with the news yet?" No. Not even a little bit.

Talking with another chronic pain sufferer this week, she said we have to rely on what we know about God. So, while my heart is really no where near "I'll praise you in this storm," I do know this:

"Remember who created you, O Jacob? Who shaped you, P Israel? See, you have nothing to gear. I, who made you, will take you back. I have chosen you, named you as My own. When you face stormy seas I will be there with you with endurance and calm; you will not be engulfed in raging rivers. If it seems like you're walking through fire with flames licking at your limbs, keep going; you won't be burned. Because I, the Eternal One, am your God. I am the Holy One of Israel, and I will save you... So don't be afraid. I am here." Is. 43:1-3; 5

and:

There is no power in heaven or hell that can keep me from the love of the Father on His throne (He's Alive by Laura Hackett at 4' 45")

That is all that I can rely on right now, in all honesty. I have no other perspective to look at this from than those two things, as my heart is breaking right now. So let us rely on what we know. And those two things I do know.

buck up!!!

A couple days ago I wrote a blog about how I was feeling little feelings of hope creeping in after having a doctor's appointment. The next day, I was feeling very down and glum. But not just that... doubtful... about my pain tolerance. Sometimes, thoughts go through my head of "You are just being a wimp" and "You don't really need another surgery. Just be tough!" and "Gosh, you are being so dramatic. Just deal with it and keep going." Those days are HARD. After being in pain for 2 years, your mind plays tricks on you. "Well, I can walk, so maybe it's okay that I just can't bend over. Just deal with it." Then, I will see someone biking on the road, and long for being able to bike again. It isn't really normal at 27 to grit your teeth in a meeting while nerve pain shoots down your leg. It isn't really normal that your leg feels like it might give out every time you walk up the stairs. 

Last night, we went to a lecture at church by a woman who practices iconography art as a form of prayer and worship. It was an interesting time learning about her art. She told about different symbols of iconography. I had had my "doubt day" this day. So I was sitting through some interesting nerve pain down my leg. I was kind of interested, but it wasn't resonating a ton with me. Then the woman speaking put up one of her icons, and it was Jesus with the Bent Over Woman (Luke 13:10-17). In the story, the woman had been "bent over" for 18 years! When Jesus sees her, He immediately heals her. The woman speaking last night had painted an icon of this story. Behind the woman in the picture was a picture of a building, which in iconography represents the foundation of the world. The way this had been painted, the woman had been carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders. Yet behind Jesus, there was a tree. The tree in iconography represents new life. What the woman who was speaking pointed out was that in her painting, Jesus gets down on eye level with the woman. He bends over himself to look in her eyes and offer her this new life, where she is free from her illness. Let's just say it was all I could do to not burst into tears at this point. (Unfortunately, this picture is not on the website, but maybe a different icon might touch you too.)

I really think that it is okay to keep hope for full healing. The woman in the story hoped enough to go seek out Christ. New life and new beginnings are available every day. I am super thankful that Jesus does bend over and meet us in our pain and bring us through it.

Let's start at the beginning...

This is a blog for me to be able to talk about my issues with my chronic back pain. I was posting all my posts regarding my back on my family blog, but decided the other day that perhaps I wanted to separate these two blogs.

A little about the story of my injury: In June of 2010, we were moving to a new apartment. After a long day of loading boxes, I tried to stretch my back, as it was hurting quite a bit. Instead of making myself feel better with these stretches, my back went completely out. I was on the floor for 2 hours because every time I tried to move, I screamed. After a few hours, we finally very painfully got me up, and  I tried to shower and use the bathroom... and then I passed out in the shower from the pain. I then got stuck in the bathtub for a couple hours until I could kind of tolerate getting back to the couch, where I spent a horribly painful night until I got to the doctor the next morning.

Since that day, I have had 6 MRIs, a myelogram, 4 epidural steroid injections, 2 runs of physical therapy, a try at chiropractic and acupuncture, and 2 back surgeries. Unfortunately, nothing has solved the pain I live with every moment of every day.

The blog title was chosen after I wrote this post on my other blog:


All this week I feel like I have been constantly reminded that God is continually making us new. This was a big theme in the beginning of our church service the other day with new pastors and new formats and new ways of doing a sermon. Then this week I have been listening to Gungor's album Beautiful Things almost non-stop. So many of the songs express a desire to be made new, and a transformation in one's soul of being made new. I have seen a little one move from the PICU in a Children's Hospital after almost a month to a a regular room. I have watched the pleading God to make a child new from a mom who has had a little one in the NICU for the last month. I have seen the rains come to Colorado, making new this state from fires to peace.

I saw the first of two new surgeons yesterday, who suggested something completely new as a possibility, an electrical spinal cord stimulator. I had heard of this before, but it has not been suggested as me being a candidate before. There are still many things to happen before this would actually come to pass. More MRIs. Second opinions. Trials. More surgery. And, it still could not be the solution overall. It was overwhelming, and like most of my appointments these days, yes, I cried after it was over. There are many times that I have given up this hope for physical healing, and instead just felt that maybe our Lord would make me new in different ways... in my spirit, in my mind. Yet, the hope that maybe God will be making me physically new, with new suggestions from new doctors (not that I didn't love my doctor in KC) has been creeping in. I am feeling slivers of hope again that "You make beautiful things out of us" and that "Surely our Messiah will make all things new."


Watch closely: I am preparing something new; it's happening now, even as I speak, and you're about to see it. I am preparing a way through the desert; Waters will flow where there had been none... there will be water enough for my chosen people, trickling springs and clear streams running through the desert. My people, the ones whom I chose and created for My own, will sing my praise. - Is. 43:19; 20b-21



I am using this blog to document hope, to document the trials, to document the sorrows of how it is to live with chronic pain - day in and day out. I am hoping that soon, I won't have to continue writing this blog. Until then, I am hoping this will provide hope and comfort to others who may be going through the same trials.

With peace - S.

you make me new

All this week I feel like I have been constantly reminded that God is continually making us new. This was a big theme in the beginning of our church service the other day with new pastors and new formats and new ways of doing a sermon. Then this week I have been listening to Gungor's album Beautiful Things almost non-stop. So many of the songs express a desire to be made new, and a transformation in one's soul of being made new. I have seen a little one move from the PICU in a Children's Hospital after almost a month to a a regular room. I have watched the pleading God to make a child new from a mom who has had a little one in the NICU for the last month. I have seen the rains come to Colorado, making new this state from fires to peace.

I saw the first of two new surgeons yesterday, who suggested something completely new as a possibility, an electrical spinal cord stimulator. I had heard of this before, but it has not been suggested as me being a candidate before. There are still many things to happen before this would actually come to pass. More MRIs. Second opinions. Trials. More surgery. And, it still could not be the solution overall. It was overwhelming, and like most of my appointments these days, yes, I cried after it was over. There are many times that I have given up this hope for physical healing, and instead just felt that maybe our Lord would make me new in different ways... in my spirit, in my mind. Yet, the hope that maybe God will be making me physically new, with new suggestions from new doctors (not that I didn't love my doctor in KC) has been creeping in. I am feeling slivers of hope again that "You make beautiful things out of us" and that "Surely our Messiah will make all things new."


Watch closely: I am preparing something new; it's happening now, even as I speak, and you're about to see it. I am preparing a way through the desert; Waters will flow where there had been none... there will be water enough for my chosen people, trickling springs and clear streams running through the desert. My people, the ones whom I chose and created for My own, will sing my praise. - Is. 43:19; 20b-21

back to back...

Well, I went to the surgeon for my 6 week check up right before we moved from Missouri to Colorado. I went in being optimistic... trying hard to show that I was probably doing okay. I talked about how I can get out and do things, but it still hurts, and I'm okay after I lie down for awhile. And that my foot was still numb and weird, but if I wear certain shoes I do okay.

The nurse asked me, "Are you really getting better, or are you learning to live with the problems you still have?"

It was the second one.

A third, fusion surgery was discussed, as was just giving things a little more time.

I have cried, a lot.

I am having a hard time not being completely devastated. The words "I can't do this again" have come out of my mouth many times.

I read this Psalm out on the porch in the beautiful Colorado morning air yesterday:

‎"Eternal One, I am call out to You; You are the foundation of my life. Please, don't turn Your ear from me. If you respond to my pleas with silence, I will lose all hope like those silenced by death's grave. Listen to my voice, You will hear me begging for Your help with my hands lifted up in prayer, my body turned toward Your holy home... The Eternal should be honored and revered, He has heard my cries for help, The eternal is the source of my strength and the shield that guards me. When I learn to rest and truly trust Him, He sends His help. This is why my heart is singing! I open my mouth to praise Him, and thankfulness rises as song." - Psalm 28:1-2, 6-7 (The Voice Translation)

I am thankful for continued hope in God, in all that goes on in my life. When I don't have much hope, I am thankful that God gives me a song to sing, a song of hope, a song of strength, and a song of peace.

"Even in the unending shadows of death's darkness, I am not overcome by fear. Because you are with me in those dark moments, near with your protection and guidance, I am comforted." Psalm 23:4 (The VOICE translation)

a heart post

This evening, I was given a lovely note from a family member about how she was comforted by my faith through this time of pain. This made me sit back and think a little bit. Often, I post about the things that are in my head. "I know that God is walking with me" "I know that God is providing the strength." I have to admit, though, that this is often what my head says. I grew up in a church that practiced a lot of head knowledge about the Bible and Christianity (not to say that the heart wasn't there also.) So, I know a lot. But, here have been the prayers of my heart this week:

"God, where are you? Why can't I feel you walking with me?"
"Why, Lord Jesus, is this your plan for me?"
"I have given up hope in some ways, God, that true healing is your plan for my life."
"Please God, let me poop! Why do I feel you have abonded me even in my pooping?"

Let's just say, I have felt a lot like the writers of many of the Psalms this week.

But I am calling out to You, Eternal One
My prayers rise before you with every new sun
Why do you turn your head and brush me aside, Eternal One?
Why are you avoiding me?
Since the days of my youth I have been sick and close to death
My helpless soul has suffered your silent horrors.
Now I am desperate. - Psaml 88:13-15

Whew. Tough stuff. Bryson right now, is "marveling at the theology" of this verse... it does not reflect what our heads know about God. This, is the prayer of someone's heart. This person was wrecked. This person felt abondoned. This person was in a deep, dark place. In my Bible, it says that this lament is reminiscent of Job's sufferings. Job, who, with what he thought could have been his last breath, was still praising God. Job managed to keep his head and his heart together, even when people told him not to.

Tonight, I do reveal that my head and my heart are not in the same place. This has been a very hard last week and it still has a long road ahead of me, I fear. I tell you this not to have a pity party for me, but so that if your heart, too, is not there with your head, you are just like many of the others in the Bible who wrote laments like the writer of Psalm 88. And Psalm 38. And many others. But, we must cling to the verses our heads know, and soon, I know my heart will catch up with them.

Patient endurance is what you need now, so you will continue to do God's will. Then you will receive all that He has promised. - Hebrews 10:36

first outing!

Took a little trip to Starbucks this morning! I have not left the house except for our short walks since we got back from the hospital last Tuesday. It was pretty darn amazing to get out of the house.

scar

After we took the bandage off of surgery #1

After we took the bandage off of surgery #2

I hope and pray I won't have another picture from surgery #3!!!

surgery... take 2

Yesterday (Monday) I had back surgery... again. The first surgery did not work and we had to go in and clean up the disk again. Unfortunately, there was LOTS of scar tissue that had formed, and all that had to be cleaned and dug out too. This has translated to a LOT of pain. This surgery recovery has been a lot worse than last time. Yesterday, morphine, vicodin, nothing was touching the pain. And every time I got up I would get really dizzy and almost pass out. Finally around 1:00 AM I was able to start tolerating it. Physical therapy came in and walked with me this morning, and i did well walking around and doing stairs. I am hoping to go home around 4:00 this afternoon.

At the end of March, I said that the only way I would make it through till surgery would be through God's grace and strength. I can point to many times over the last 60 days that it was only through God giving me strength and sustenance that I was able to make it through. Even yesterday, when I was in so much pain, I knew that God was giving me strength to get through it. There is still a long journey to go through with recovery. But I trust that God will provide what is needed in this recovery.

LOTS of big stuff to update on from the last month or so. I will blog about all that with pictures when I am home this week.

arms are up...

I have blogged before the passage from Exodus 17:8-13 before here. A dear friend shared this passage with me probably a year and a half ago. Today, I was reminded of this passage and how the Lord really puts dear friends and loved ones, or words of encouragement in our paths when we can't raise our own arms up. I was feeling very gloomy this morning. I won't go into detail about all the gloom, but it was a very teary morning.

Then, within 5 minutes of each other, I got a text from a friend I haven't talked to in quite awhile and an email. The text said that this person had been thinking of me a lot, and said that though she didn't have wise words that hadn't already been heard, to encourage me to lean on the One who created all things and call upon His comfort. She encouraged me that there were many praying for me. Then, I got my daily email of a Bible verse and quote. The quote said:

"We discovered that faith is not expecting that the Lord will miraculously give us whatever we ask, or feeling that we will not be killed and that everything will turn out as we want. We learned that faith is putting ourselves in [God’s] hands, whatever happens, good or bad. [God] will help us somehow.”

- Felipe and Mary Barreda from, Common Prayer - A Liturgy for Ordinary Radicals"

I was singing this afternoon the song "Please Be My Strength" by Gungor (listen to it here). As I have said before, if I make it through this time, it is a testament not to my strength, but to the strength of God. I was so thankful for the Lord providing people to hold my arms up high today when I felt like all my strength was gone. Thank you Lord, for my "Aarons" and "Hurs" Amen. 

(...tee hee... that's a funny name... Hur...).

your peace is the melody...

I finally feel like maybe I can post and talk about this now.

The last few weeks, my back has been hurting a lot again. My physical therapist suggested it was just scar tissue, but due to our life changes that are supposed to be happening this summer, we decided to call the surgeon again just to get it checked on. So we scheduled a new MRI and put me on a steroid. Bad news came back... my disc reherniated, and I need to repeat the surgery to get any relief.

I did NOT want to talk about it with almost anyone but a select few for quite awhile. I was so angry and frustrated. I am STILL angry and frustrated. This really messes with the fact that we are supposed to move this summer to wherever Bryson may be appointed. I will lose insurance. But I am also out of sick days and school, and they take a LOT of money when one runs out of sick days. So, trying to juggle insurance ending for me, moving, not missing too much school and everything else with this season of change has been overwhelming.

Much of my journey through all my back pain has been documented by various music and songs. I go back and listen to some of the music that encouraged me at the start of this crooked, winding, bumpy road and it still encourages me. Yet, none of those songs really captured how broken I felt. How abandoned by God I felt. None of these songs were giving me God's peace or the knowledge that God will strengthen me through all of this. I didn't feel like any of these songs that once made me feel God's presence through the pain.

I stumbled across a band called All Sons & Daughters when we visited a church called Jacob's Well on a Sunday night. This song, A Reason to Sing, captured the brokenness I felt in the first verse:

When the pieces seem to shattered

To gather off the floor

And all that seems to matter

Is I don't feel you anymore

I need a reason to sing

I need a reason to sing

I need to know that You're still holding

The whole world in your hands...

This. This captured the way my heart felt. BUT. This is not the end. The song has good news.

Will there be a victory?

Will you sing it over me now?

Your peace is the melody

Will you sing it over me now?

God's peace sang a melody over me that morning. Things are still icky. I am still frustrated and trying to just get through each of the 49 days till surgery one at a time, slowly. And there are time where I still cry my eyes out about it. But I trust God's melody to sing to me each and every morning, not matter what happens. I know, that WHEN I get through this, and WHEN I am healed, it will truly be a testimony to the STRENGTH God gives his children and the PEACE and instills in their lives.

Check out All Sons & Daughters playing their song here: Reason to Sing