Stop Looking

When I experienced sudden, bizarre symptoms that took hold of my body three years ago, my friends and I joked that I was a “unicorn,” because no one had previously seen anything like me. Upon reflection, this analogy is deeply misleading. Unicorns, as you know, are mythical creatures and what I experienced was soberingly real. I went through nearly a year of frequent doctor visits, several IV treatments, speech therapy, physical therapy, and essentially relearned how to translate everything my brain wanted to do into physical action.

Flash forward to this past Sunday. I was outside moving firewood in preparation for our next cold snap when a large, hidden scorpion stung my thumb through the gloves I had on. I screamed, as the pain was instantaneous, and thankfully my husband immediately came to see what was wrong. Through sobs, I managed to get out what had occurred. He tended to my sting while trying to console me. After some time (a few minutes? several?), I told him my head felt heavy, and he helped me inside to bed.

When stung, scorpions release venom, containing a mix of toxins into its victim, affecting the nervous system. This is where it gets interesting. For whatever reason, my central nervous system has had multiple intermittent unexplained mini-episodes since “recovering” from my previous syndrome three years ago. Now, this scorpion sting caused most of my debilitating symptoms to return. Hoping they would simply resolve with rest, I spent the rest of the day in bed. Sadly, this was not the case, and my neurologist recommended we go to the ER.

My worst nightmare. Again. You see, I didn’t exactly “fit the mold” for an easy diagnosis previously. I didn’t check all the typical boxes for any one thing. Even after spending over a week in the hospital, I was discharged without a specific “name” for what ailed me. And I was afraid this bad dream was about to repeat itself. All because a stupid scorpion stung me.

Thankfully, I only spent three days in the hospital this time, but the result was the same. “We don’t know”….why my legs weren’t working properly…why my senses were off the chart…why my voice wasn’t audible and speech broken. So I left. In a wheelchair. No diagnosis. Again.

My friend recently gave me this solace: They were looking for a horse (common diagnosis). You are a zebra (out of the ordinary diagnosis).

Zebras are unique. Just like a fingerprint, no two are the same. There it is…a name! I am a zebra. I do not fit the common mold. For now, I am ok with that. I don’t need a specific scientific name to validate or define me. While it might make things easier to explain or help others understand, it doesn’t change where I am today.

My heart goes out to all those who are battling the unknown. Living with something that doesn’t quite fit neatly into a category. Experiencing the frustration of those who just don’t get it. Judged for OTHER’S belief that you are simply making it up. Isolated because no one knows what to say or do.

So in my REA/L moment with you today, I pray you would stop fruitlessly searching for an Earthly name to define you. Stop listening to the voices and opinions of those who are not helpful. Instead, focus on the one who uniquely created you.

Beautiful you.

Wonderful you.

You, who are made in His image.

No one on Earth knows exactly what He looks like and have never seen Him face to face but that doesn’t mean He doesn’t exist. There is only one name that truly matters: Child of the One True King. You are His beloved. You matter. You are loved. And THAT is what defines you. Stop looking for Earthly validation in a name that does not hold eternal weight. Live in His loving goodness, my zebra friends. This will bring healing to your body and make it well within your soul.