Repeat the sounding joy...

My last post reflected on words in Christmas words that have the power to bring us hope. This week I was thinking about a different Christmas song.

A few years ago, as I was dealing with my back problems and horrible chronic pain and my car getting totaled by thieves and my mother-in-law going through cancer treatment, I decided my new favorite Christmas song was Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas. And it was my favorite song for this one line,

Next year all our troubles will be out of sight

That one line became the mantra of my Christmas that year in 2010. I kept hoping for the next year to come so that things would get better.

Alas, 2011 came and things didn't get much better. Bryson's car got everything stolen from it, my back problems and chronic pain got worse, and I ended up having to have back surgery. But when that song came on the radio that here, I knew that it was still my song. Next year all our troubles will be miles away. 2012 would be our year, I just knew it.

2012 did bring a lot of joy, like a new job for me, being back in Colorado with our families, Bryson starting his career as a pastor. But our troubles were very far from miles away. I had two back surgeries in 2012. I was living in tremendous amounts of pain. We couldn't get things together it seemed. My Christmas season last year was spent on the couch recovering from my spinal cord stimulator surgery. Yet I still knew, when I heard that song, that this new implant would be the key. I knew that it next year our troubles would be out of sight.

And for a while there, I thought 2013 would be it. I was starting to feel better after my last surgery. We scheduled a trip to Chicago to celebrate Bryson's 30th birthday. Bryson was given the opportunity to start at a new church and preach every week, something he felt called to do. Then June hit, and all seemed to fall apart. Bryson busted up his knee, which required two surgeries. My car died, and we needed to get a new one. Then all of this new stuff hit with my health, and it just seemed to be the icing on the cake from the last three years.

This week I was bawling my eyes out talking to my friend about this simple song from the simple line, next year all our troubles would be miles away. I don't have hope for the upcoming year anymore. I don't feel like next year my troubles will be far away as were dealing with this mystery illness. I am not sure at this point, that for my health, that ever my troubles will be out of sight. I am not looking forward to 2014 as a fresh start, thinking that everything is going to be peachy keen when the clock hits midnight on January 1.

Yet another line popped into my head after that conversation with my friend. 

Repeat the sounding joy.

Repeat the sounding joy. Through the struggles, there has been much to be joyful about. My mother-in-law is back in good health. We were given the blessing of a beautiful home, and help to put furniture in it. I had help to get new cars both times the cars fell apart. When everything in Bryson's car got stolen, our church back in Longmont provided some resources to help him get a new computer so he could continue his seminary work. We have a fun, spunky, sweet puppy in our family this year. We get to spend birthdays and holidays with our family back in Colorado. I get to work with amazing kiddos each year, and hopefully provide some love in their lives every day.

Repeat the sounding joy.

Perhaps it is time to stop looking towards and hoping for our troubles to be out of sight all the time. We have dealt with a lot as a family in the last few years, yet we must look for the joy in life. Look for the joy in all of our blessings. Look for the joy in the puppy asleep on my lap, and children's smiles every day. Look for the joy in the hope and light that Advent brings. Life is full of trials and tribulations. That much is always going to be true. But instead of hoping for the better times, and waiting for those to bring and celebrate and recognize joy, I am going to try and find my joy today. Here. Now. Even through all the mess.

Repeat that sounding joy my friends.

with us...

Yesterday I went to a new, even more specialized doctor at the University Hospital. The first level of specialized doctors could not figure out what to do with me.

The doctor gave me a diagnosis of myelopathy. My understanding is this means there is something wrong in my spinal cord, probably in my neck. There are a bunch of things that fall under this category. I was not really given a treatment plan. I was told the numbness in my hands and arms is probably residual from my "episode" I had in August and  it may never go away. I was told another "episode" would be an indicator that I might have MS. But I could never have another one. 

And that is that. Not much to do, just try to manage the pain in my hands and wait to see if my whole body blows up again. Not super encouraging.

A lot of thoughts have gone through my head. Everything from, "Thank goodness, we are at the end of this investigative process" to "Is my body going to blow up again in a few weeks?" to "What does this really mean for me" to "How can I live the rest of my life with these issues and never really having something to do about it?"

I walked into the nurse's office at school after my appointment yesterday. She had written on a small sticky note on her wall, "Emmanuel... God with us." It was so simple. Just a few words on a sticky note that had been quickly scribbled down.

At this time of year we sing songs that we have sung for years. O Holy Night. Joy to the World. O Come, O Come Emmanuel. Yet we often don't stop and let the words really resonate in our souls, due to their familiarity. Think on these words... a thrill of hope. and wonders of His love. disperse thou gloomy clouds of night. Those familiar words can hold such power when we stop and think about them.

I grew up singing many songs that had the words "Emmanuel, God with us" in the lyrics. But when I saw it written down on that simple sticky note, it hit me hard. The name that was given to Jesus was "God with us". God walking with us. God sharing our pain. God WITH us. He does not leave us to walk these paths on our own. 

 

God is not healing me right now, and the possibility of living with so much limited use of my hands, vision issues, horrid pain, memory problems and incredible fatigue, not to mention the possibility still of one day waking up being numb from neck to toe again scares me. I am still trying not to think about it much, and still process (a shed some tears) when I do think about it. Yet I know God still has so much for me to do, and He is Emmanuel, God with us, and I hope that through it all I can prove the wonders of His love.