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)