19 was the magic number. At 19 I was unwillingly forced into
the beginnings of a time I selfishly
thought was reserved for the elderly. For the 91. Not the 19.
Pain can change it all in an instant. At times I feel like I am enclosed in on all
sides, struggling to breathe, struggling to eat. I can't say I really like it out here. People
on high offer me lies and deception. But I am no longer able to swallow what's
been placed in front of me. Somewhere along the way, I started to realize it
was a poison. It's part of the reason I
cannot eat most dairy, soy, wheat, eggs, most nuts, grains, sugar, or anything
processed. I did not figure out how to manage autoimmune disease
overnight-longsuffering was the teacher.
And a God-given determination to do whatever it takes to be able to take care
of my children. Children will do that. They will give you a strength you never
knew you had, and each morning when they meet you like the rising sun, the only
thing left on your pillow is an imprint of your bravest face.
Those calm waters have been emptied out. I ride the waves of
new ones. Waters that harbor chlorine, heavy metals, parasites, and flouride.
Flouride? The flouride that was the source of my envy in 1st grade, when the
special children would luckily line up for their daily dose of pink. But now it
is coming to light that all the pretty, pink pills harbor ugly, dark secrets.
And how could I judge anyone if they disagreed with me, thought I was oversensitive,
or mistaken? I only ended up on the other side of the fence, because the horse
bucked me off. But what man intends for evil, God has shown that he can turn
around and intend for good. And through going through times when
every.single.thing I put in my body made me instantly feel sick, I now know
this-one of the reasons I was born, is to follow my broken gut. How ironic it
is that God heals through brokenness.
And although this is something I would not normally care to admit, I am
so very thankful He has made me weak. Otherwise, how would I ever know what it
is to be held up by Him, as we walk across these waters.
The sounds are no longer steady and reassuring, like that
heartbeat. The hushes have been replaced with a shrill cacophony of words that
hurt, that sometimes leave me dazed and shivering in the cold. The soothing
familiar has been replaced with words that remind me this journey is my
own. And although I often walk alone not
readily understood, I have a heavenly compass helping my body find its way in
the dark. These are not the popular pathways I traverse. Trading modern
medicine that had nothing left to offer me for the most part for ancient
wisdom, finding healing through food and plants, relearning not only how to
eat, but to bathe and brush my teeth and take care of my children, not leaving
my newborn to "cry it out," but attending to his every cry, nursing
on demand, co-sleeping, deciding against vaccination for my children can evoke
strong reactions and fears in others, emotions hard for both them and myself.
But now that I know different, I cherish the miraculous fruits that have come
even still from a diseased plant. When
there was no one to hear my fighting cry or the cries of my children, I learned
to listen to my gut instinct and advocate unapologetically. Like the newborn
baby, my vision is dark and dim, but I can see enough to know that I have been
birthed in a toxic world. For the sake of my children and my children's
children I cannot go back to the place I once knew-the place once familiar that
no longer has the ability or purpose to sustain life or growth. I must trust
the One who brought me here to feed us, bathe us, and clothe us. And He
relentlessly does each of those for the soul. The hard part of faith is
trusting that when the physical gives way, His provisions for the soul are more
than enough.
The nurses, although lovely, will not do. Like the newly
birthed baby, I only need to be held by God.
The only promise the world seems able to offer us is not a womb of security but a
dark tomb of death and deceit. So roll
that stone away! In times of darkness I can smile a first smile and laugh a
first laugh at the days to come. I can walk and not grow weary. In childlike
wonder I can run and soar and speak new words of joy. Because He rose above my sorrows.
"None of the rulers of this age understood it, for if they had, they would not have crucified the Lord of glory. However, as it is written: 'What no eye has seen, what no ear has heard, and what no human mind has conceived'--the things God has prepared for those who love him--these are the things God has revealed to us by his Spirit." 1 Corinthians 2: 8-10
