I have been such a bad blogger lately, but I was just called out on it and so here I am, back at it again. My sweet friend Danielle (little sister extraordinaire) is expecting a baby and is at the stage where the sleeping ain't so great. So while she is up at night, she needs something to read. So here I am, Danielle! It may not be interesting, but it is for you! :)
Danielle is having a girl, and I just want to state publicly that I like the name Piper for a girl. It isn't going to happen, I realize, but figured I would throw it out there. For Danielle's viewing pleasure, here are a few girls names I recommend:
I am going out on a limb and guessing that she and Sean have already chosen a name, but for her reading enjoyment, please post your baby girl name suggestions in my comments section. I think they are leaning towards something biblical, but if the girl can't sleep, let's not limit ourselves!
Love ya Danielle!
I am also going to take a minute to post about my health. I have been avoiding it for about 10 months now, but most everyone who knows me know that I have been struggling with fatigue, shortness of breath, some fainting, and a list of other miscellaneous symptoms. I have not blogged about much of this experience because... well... I am not sure what to say. But tonight it is getting late, and I am just going to share whatever comes to mind right now about this situation and see what happens. Here is some truth for you.
I am embarrassed I am sick. I miss being the person I was before I got sick. I was running, had lots of energy, was involved, felt like I could say "yes" when I wanted, had great friendships, and thoroughly enjoyed my busy life with Mark and the boys. I look back now, and it seems like things were so...perfect. I think (I hope!) I appreciated it at the time, but now I absolutely ache for who I was then. I feel like a shell of that person.
I don't have a diagnosis. After almost 10 months. I am embarrassed. I have seen so many drs (most of them great), and we just can't figure out what it going on. I feel the pressure more these days to find out what is wrong - both so I can start to DO something to get well, but also to get an answer before the only other diagnosis that is left is that I am crazy. I am not. But I am too tired to fight that fight with the medical community when it comes, so I just want an answer. Quickly.
At first when I was sick, I felt a peace about it, like God was going to take care of it. I didn't worry about when I would feel better, I just did what I could and felt strong in spirit. I admit it. Right now I am kind of lost. I am not sure what to pray for anymore. Do I pray for healing? (Sure I do. Heck, I beg some days.) Do I pray for strength? (Sure I do. Some days I feel strong in spirit, and some days I am the boat tossed about by the wind.) I have been advised to "name it and claim it" as far as healing goes. Do I believe God heals if we ask? Yes. Do I think He can heal me instantly? Yes. I can honestly say I wake up everyday wondering if this will be the first day I will feel like "me" again. And sometimes I end the days disappointed, but with the smallest inextinguishable flicker of hope for tomorrow.
There are times when I stop praying. Not because I don't believe, but because my spirit is tired. Pretty words just won't come. I don't doubt God, but I just stop. I know we are supposed to wait expectantly for God to work, but there are days where I find myself...just waiting. Not really anticipating anything. My spirit gets tired.
I worry that I am wearing people out. To count the ways my family has been helped would be impossible. For months (and months and months) we have been helped in ways that overwhelm me to think about. People have sacrificed and prayed and just been there. And I am embarrassed. I want to show them that their care has made a difference, but here I am months later and still ... tired. I at least feel like I owe people an explanation. I don't have one. I want these people who have been "flesh suits" for God's love to be able to see the drastic difference they have made. I want to be well for them almost as much as I want to be well for me.
I know that God loves me. I know that He knows exactly what is going on. That isn't denial or fatigue. I just know who He is. This has been such a strange, almost surreal last year. And I think the only thing that keeps me sane, is that God is. I have so many unanswered questions, so for comfort I hang really tightly to the very few answers I can find. I don't get why I am still sick. I don't get why God hasn't revealed this to the drs or just smacked me on the head and healed me. I don't know how to look down the road, not knowing how I will feel a week or a year from now. I don't know if I will ever run again. I think that I will, but I really don't know. I don't know how to keep smiling when Calvin asks when my "wake up germs" are coming. I can fake normal for awhile, but it is tiring and...well, fake.
So in this post there is no fake. It is what it is. The post. The illness. My God.
I don't need to whine or talk about this all the time. Even though it has taken over a lot of my life, it isn't all of me. But I needed to start somewhere. So here it is.