Restoration

For the last few months, we had been "operating under the assumption that Multiple Sclerosis could be the cause for my current problems." This week the Official Diagnosis came in. I had a spinal tap after an exacerbation where I had lost some vision. In spinal fluid, there are certain markers that are apparent in 95% of patients with MS. After almost 8 months of tests and worry and fear and more tests and more worries and more fears, the spinal tap finally came back as positive for Multiple Sclerosis. An answer. A diagnosis. More fear.

Unfortunately, right now, there is no cure for MS. And it is a nasty, nasty disease. Basically, your white blood cells see your brain and spinal cord as something bad that needs to be attacked. When this happens, the myelin sheath on your nervous system is eaten away, and it causes nerve impulses to not transmit correctly through your body. Nerve impulses for things like walking. Speaking. Thinking. Moving. I am learning that my vision can go. That getting too warm causes me to pass out in a restaurant. That there will be times I can barely move my extremities. Here is a great video that explains the science of MS.

Yesterday I opened my health record app through my doctor's office on my phone. I noticed something new had been added to my health record. There it was: Multiple Sclerosis.

I have been hearing the "possibility of MS" since August. But when you see it there, written in your health record, staring back at you, as a finality, it stinks. Like hardcore. It isn't going to change. It is what it is. A disabling, permanent, horrible disease.

And then the fear came. Fear of living like this. Fear of more episodes. Fear of the unknown of how this body will react with my body. And then anger. Why me? How could this happen to me? Why is God allowing this to happen? Why is He not stepping in and doing something about this? Do I not matter?

Right now it is the season of Lent in the church. A time of preparing ourselves for the celebration of Christ conquering fears, our anger, our sorrow and bringing forth new life. Today I was listening to a sermon, and the pastor was preaching on Jesus healing a leaper in Luke 5. This man, whose body was completely ravaged by disease, says to Jesus, "Lord, if you wish to, You can heal me of this disease." Jesus then says, "I do want to." and the man is healed (more on this in a moment).

This REALLY sat raw with me for awhile. Lord, if you want to? Why would God not want to heal me? Why would he say, "Yes" to heal some and "Nah, don't feel like it" to others? Still, right now, I don't really understand why this interaction happens with these words. I do believe that God's desire is not for us to suffer. It is not his ultimate plan for me to be filled with pain and sorrow all the time. But I also am filled with a realistic faith that there is not a cure for this disease.

I did have someone tell me a quote this week that, "healing is the restoration of meaning to life." I really found this powerful. Physical healing will most likely not be in my future. Yet, to have restoration of meaning to life, that is possible.

Meaning to life in friends supporting me.

SPE Friends dressed in orange

Sandy and Nora wearing their orange

Meaning to life in fighting with all I got.

Steroid treatments to fight an "episode"

Meaning to life in learning new limitations. Meaning to life in soaking up beautiful spring days. Meaning to life in LIVING life through it all.

And I do believe that God can orchestrate this healing and WILL. When Jesus healed the leper in the passage in Luke, it says that Jesus touched the leper. I learned from the sermon today that this was hugely significant. Lepers were "unclean" and were not allowed to interact with people in the Jewish culture. When Jesus touched this man, Jesus also became "unclean." He took on the sickness, the sorrows, the disease, the status of this man. He took it on and he told him it was no more. He healed this man and restored meaning to life for this man. He was able to return home, return to the temple to worship, return to a life. Jesus met this man in his ashes, in his mire, in the pit, and made something new and beautiful in his life.

Right now I still feel very much in the ashes, in the mire, of this diagnosis. Yet, during this time of preparation to celebrate new life in Easter, perhaps it is a time where I can prepare for a resurrection of my new self. A self that has restoration of meaning to life through Christ's love. A self that is broken, but made new by God. A self that sees the hand of God reaching down and touching me with all my infirmities and sorrow, and still is able to make something beautiful and new.