Tag: Truth

Don’t Let Them Take You Out

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Have you ever been so frustrated that you want to scream? Not a muffle it into a pillow one–I mean an out loud, full volume, no holds barred, elongated blood curdling scream that would likely elicit a concerned neighbor’s 911 call. I only remember doing this once in my life, and it was earlier this year (thankfully I wasn’t at my home because I let it out). Instead of unleashing another (unfortunately I am at home), I’m writing. Call me dramatic if you want, but that’s my current state. Let me paint this picture for you…

Hmmm, where shall I start? I missed the call last week (Tuesday) that Mama was headed to the ER because my phone died–as is blue screen of death followed by black where phone would not turn on. Made appt with Apple’s Genius Bar for next day (Wednesday afternoon). Wednesday morning, I found out about the ER visit when I opened email on my laptop, saw a dozen+ “My Chart” updates, and called my aunt to see what was going on. Mama was released with antibiotics for an UTI. I go to my Apple appointment, and after a couple hours of trying, end up having to buy a new phone (thank goodness I’d done a backup on my PC less than a month ago when I had to replace cracked screen on the now dead phone). Get home several hours later (we missed lunch dealing with all the aforementioned stuff) after having a nice dinner and “resetting,” try to restore new phone via backup, and no dice. Work through tech support via chat and phone, get a case number so Apple can reset my account, which will take approximately three days. Lovely, I am now the proud owner of an expensive dumb smart phone.

On Thursday, Mama goes back to the ER, this time she’s admitted…Friday afternoon. Mind you, I live 4+ hours away. After multiple text conversations with my aunties (aka her sisters), we decide IF she’ll call when the nurses and/or doctors are there, I could manage her care from here. You see, although Mama will tell you she “has all her nuggies,” she’s cognitively impaired…as in, documented by a medical professional, beyond the “normal” age-related memory decline. I have MPOA and advocate on her behalf because she does not have the capacity to do so. And she fights me–on this and so many things. So much so, I’ve had to reframe our relationship, which started with calling her “Mama.”

If you’re keeping up with this page, you may remember me saying my “Mom” died in January–this is to say, my mom-in-love (aka my hubby’s mom). You may think me cruel when I say my birth mother ceased to exist years ago. That’s the only way I can wrap my head around how she’s treated me for decades and still care for her, hence “Mama” was born and became my 30+ hour a week job. Back to the timeline…

The weekend is spent pouring over labs, scans, and anything else I can access trying to piece together for a plan that addresses Mama’s excruciating pain that has landed her in the ER twice in a two day period. No word back from Apple about my account, so I don’t have access to any of my contacts, calendar, and dagnabbit, I’ve now lost my Duolingo streak. The project that I need to work on requires info that Apple has hostage, and Mama is refusing to call me when any nurse and/or doctor visits. I couldn’t even phone a friend to vent because I’ve become that phone dependent (remember when we actually memorized numbers?!). Cut to today.

I get a call at 7am from Mama telling me “she’s still here,” and woke up crying because she’s in so much pain. I ask if she’d like me to come down and sit with her, “no thanks.” I remind her (as have both aunties) that I cannot help her if she won’t let me. Mama has been masking for a very long time, and in brief interactions, she seems “fine.” I’m faced, yet again, with the “should I stay or should I go now” (without the melodic tune) saga. FINALLY, a doctor stops by and Mama calls. I’m able to hear from the professional what’s being done and make my case for additional imaging (which order has been played and prayerfully will occur before discharge). Oh, did I also mention this is in between messaging/talking with Apple again after receiving recovery email, which still doesn’t unlock my expensive dumb smart phone and requires “further escalation” to the tune of another 24/28 hours?

I full well realize my phone issue is a first world problem. But Mama? That’s another animal. I’ve had people ask why I’m still involved and trying to help. “Boundaries,” they say. At the end of the day, “Mama” is still my mom–regardless of her diminished mental capacity and how desperately I try to separate the two. At my core, I know regardless of how frustratingly difficult this (she) is, I cannot simply walk away. I have to do what feels right within my own skin. Because when she does leave this Earth, I will have to live with the choices I’ve made. I’m not sure if that’s right or wrong. I just know that’s where I’m at…

There’s a Keith James song, “Not My Day,” that’s playing on repeat in my head. You should listen to it. I was stuck in the first 2/3 of the song which is focuses around all the things that make it “not my day.” Thinking it’ll make me feel better, I play it. Someone to commiserate with. First verse: yep, his day is pretty bad too. Bridge: peach!. Chorus: “Not My Day” SAMSIES. Second verse: more of his bad day, feel that too. Then the bridge again, only this time it hits a little different.

“If my luck doesn’t change
I’ll be out of my brain by tonight
When your head’s out of place
You’re behind in the race of life”

Keith James, “Not my day,” KHS 2013

Read those last two lines again. Now here’s the third verse…

“Oh oh oh
What you treasure is who you are
Go and get it
Oh oh oh
If it starts to fall apart
Give it all you got ’cause
Folks will hurt, and down your worth
Don’t let them take you out”

Keith James, “Not my day,” KHS 2013

Then the final chorus changes from “not my day” to “maybe it’s just not their day.” Throwing in “won’t let them hold me down” before returning to the familiar song title, “No My Day” chorus at the end. Huh…somehow I missed that last 1/3 in the version playing in my head. Don’t let them. I control the narrative. I can choose whether I’ll continue to spiral. I will treasure and prioritize my own peace.

My aunties and I joked that even Jesus has stepped away shaking His head at this whole Mama situation. Obviously not, we all know better than that. It did bring levity to the situation, which was the whole point. So, now that I’ve written, revised, stewed about whether or not to share this over the last few hours, I’m posting for you.

You, my friend, who has an aging parent you are now trying to shepherd.

You, my friend, who has a loved one with an impairment.

You, my friend, who is grieving the loss of relationship.

You, my friend, who is just having a hard day.

You, my friend.

Don’t let them take you out. *hugs*

You Deserve It

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The words fell out before the thought had fully fleshed itself: “I think I’m afraid to write.” Or maybe I couldn’t contain them any longer? Laden with a weight I hadn’t realized was there. Surprised, he looked up and ask “what do you mean?” I blinked as I tried to carve the lump out of my throat, an unpleasant remnant of what I’d just spilled out. Since I hadn’t realized that’s where my heart and mind had taken residence, I shook my head bewildered. “I don’t know. I’m not sure how to explain it.” It’s been several weeks since then and I’m just now able to dissect it…

My family and I have had a lot of “stuff” in the last ten years. (My God, has it really been ten years?) There comes a point, at least for me, where the sheer cumulative effect of it all becomes difficult to believe. All that can’t have happened, can’t be true, can’t happen to one person/family. And yet, it did. Thankfully, things eventually leveled out, we picked up our new normals and moved on. That’s gotta be the end of it, right?

There’s a saying: you’re either going through a trial, coming out of one, or heading into one. It’s foundation is Biblical. Jesus said: “Here on Earth you will have many trials and sorrows” (John 16:33 NLT). A side pain free escape door does not exist. Flash forward to this past January, and here begins the next chapter of disbelief…

She was having a “routine,” out patient surgery. Over half a million are performed in the United States every year. It was Friday morning, then late Monday afternoon, she was gone. We’d moved four hours away, so when we got the “you need to come now, I’m not sure she’s going to make it” call, guilt immediately swept in. You can “should” all over yourself, but in these situations, all it does is create a mess. We hadn’t been in the car more than 30 minutes when we got the second call: Mom was gone.

My husband and I drove for quite a while in silence. I was behind the wheel, but I have no recollection of how we got to the hospital. The staff was kind enough to “give her the room” until we arrived. I mostly remember feeling numb. Seeing her pale complexion, fragile body, and open mouth reminded me of my daddy, who looked similar when he passed. He’d battled cancer for a few years, so I was ready for it. She should still be here.

Five days later, we’re still in town, and my mom calls saying she needs to go to the ER. This might be a bit confusing—let me explain. Mary, my mom in love I introduced her as, died that Monday. While she did not birth me, she had nurtured and treated me like her own flesh for decades. I thought of her as Mom—our relationship that close. And here comes the sticky part: she’d treated me more like her daughter than my own mom—our relationship has been rocky for decades, which I won’t go into here.

This, in part, is why I’m afraid to write. “Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs” (1 Corinthians 13:4-5 NIV). Love is also HARD! I have been wrapped up in these conflicted feelings: how do I honor my mother and father while no longer feeling “owned” by them? How can I honor my own feelings while still being respectful to them? I say them because even though my daddy left us five years ago, my mom is still here—doing unto one vicariously does unto the other, and I mean no malace to either.

There’s so much more to this “story.” Aging parents, navigating the death of one, the copious amounts of stuff (literally and figuratively) that goes with both…it is all too real, too personal, too much of me that I’m afraid to share. So why am I doing so now? Because I know I’m not the only one. Our stories may not be mirror images, but they’re likely oriented close enough to feel familiar. I will likely share more in the future. For now, I will pause my pain and be present. This I can say with certainty: we cannot simply turn off life’s toils. What we can do is attempt to hit “pause” long enough to catch our breath as to not get utterly consumed.

So in my REA/L moment with you today, as I put down my phone to focus on my man sitting beside me and pick my head up to enjoy watching the boats go by, I hope you too will come up for air. You are deserve it. #LetsGetREALTogether

Revelation

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Revelation

There’s a beautiful blue sky and sun shining outside my window. I was briefly able to bask in its warmth earlier this morning. What a gift! It’s funny how much truth is in the adage “you don’t know what you’ve got till it’s gone.” (You’re welcome for that throwback Cinderella earwig.)

It’s days like today that I should marvel in my numerous blessings, yet here I am…ashamed of how I squander them. How I can go from gratefulness one moment to disparagement in what seems like the blink of an eye? It lends sight into my fickle heart. In the middle of my wrestle, I was able to encapsulate how I felt with this picture.

Our sweet pup, sitting on dead grass, next to a needs to be replaced fence, drenched in His glorious warmth as she lifts her head heavenward in a silent thank you. This is where I wish to reside. Unaffected by the absence of posh surroundings, yet unabashedly lavishing in His generosity.

“May He grant you your heart’s desire and fulfill all your plans. We will sing joyously over your victory, and in the name of our God we will set up our banners. May the Lord fulfill all your petitions.”

Psalm 20:4-5AMP

Thank you, Lord, for this revelation and victory over my circumstances. I praise your precious and holy name. Amen

Too Thin

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Too Thin

I am in a state of “too.” Too much stress from too many things going awry too frequently to handle this two seconds leaving me entirely too tired to keep my emotions in check. I feel like a two year old on the brink of a total meltdown: screaming, crying, both. I cannot find a light at the end of this weighty two ton tunnel. The load is oppressively crushing.

“Relax,” he says. “It’ll be ok—everything is fixable.” Fixable? Yes, deep within the recesses I can fundamentally accept this; however, there’s not enough surface tension to hold this truth. I am done…too “too.”

Have you been there? I have a frequent flier card for this place that I wish I could shred. Each visit more unpleasant than the last. Some might say, “It’s just ‘x’ you should ‘y.’” Here’s the thing: the value of my variables might very well be significantly different from the ones in your equation. I know full well that we all have “stuff,” and that it’s perfectly normal. What’s conflicting is my “stuff” never seems to fit into a “normal” box, and it keeps happening all too often, leaving me worn thin. It is in these threadbare moments, when I pray with open hands upon my knees, where I do not possess the words to proclaim or confess any conviction, that He meets me most intimately.

There is no masking my vulnerability. No explanation required. A seemlessly simple shift of my “I can’t…too much” situation to the One who is infinitely able takes delicate unraveling as I’m horrifically knotted, which has absolutely nothing to do with His capability and everything my reticence. Again I ask, have you been there?

“We know that everything God made has been waiting until now in pain, like a woman ready to give birth. Not only the world, but we also have been waiting with pain inside us. We have the Spirit as the first part of God’s promise. So we are waiting for God to finish making us His own children. I mean we are waiting for our bodies to be made free. We were saved, and we have this hope. If we see what we are waiting for, then that is not really hope. People do not hope for something they already have. But we are hoping for something that we do not have yet. We are waiting for it patiently.”

Romans 8:22-25 ICB

Waiting in pain (v 22). Waiting with pain…waiting…waiting (v 23). Saved…hope…waiting (v 24). Waiting again (v 25) then “PATIENTLY.” That’s the excruciating part! You see, the conversion is straightforward. We release and He removes, exchanging the pain for something far greater. It’s the patience in the waiting that’s difficult. Coming to grips with the fact that everyone else is also in some form of pain. We are not the only ones onboard the “waiting” boat. While our specific circumstance likely varies from another’s, we—the collective WE—are more than equipped to wait (through the power of His Holy Spirit). The tricky part is HOW we decide to do it. We know the correct answer: patiently; however, the process can be painfully elusive.

This brings me full circle to the “too thin” concept. We have sufficient means to “wait,” what we lack is a reasonable plan of how we should navigate the journey. Patience grants us access to a smoother cruise controlled lane—all that is required is removal of the desire to manage the speed.

So as I sit constrained in this uncomfortable place, wrecklessly driving myself down the wrong path, I must relinquish authority over the wheel and the gas peddle. Once freed from this burden, I still might not feel His skillful hand covering mine, but it does not mean He isn’t there. He is simply waiting patiently for me to let go of my binding “too thin” belt so I can finally relax…and receive enough.

Uprooted

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Uprooted

Skin prickling, I can feel my breath continuing to silently suck in, which my lungs refuse to accept. No. This is not happening. I prayed against this. No. Uh uh. Not happening. And yet…feathers continue to plume, spine lengthens, chest proud. It’s about to go down. I close my eyes. Maybe if I don’t watch, it won’t actually come to this.

His size is similar, at least in stature and broad shoulders. Hands wide and worn. Pride written all over him and his body shows it. The once deep voice, raised at least an octave now, spews expletives uncontrollably every few words.

In slow motion, I turn to see how this unfolds. While I unequivocally know the man is not my father reincarnated, I find myself feeling the same way I had years ago. Same house, albeit pre-renovated kitchen, around the old island. Helpless.

Wait, did my dad cuss? He despised that! I can’t put my finger on that minor detail; meanwhile, everything else came through clear as day.

My husband, in his infinite wisdom, does not reciprocate. Quite the opposite. Everything is even keel. I can see it pains him to do so, being this disciplined while under attack. I am incredibly proud of you baby!

This juxtaposition between past and present, completely different circumstances, plunks me squarely in the face. Hot wet tears well, which is utterly unnerving because I despise crying, so I sit stewing in them quietly. Once the offender simmers down enough to carry a rational conversation, I can breathe again.

Audibly, I exhale with a long puff then greedily intake air again. Apparently I’m not able to disguise any of this because my husband recognizes my distress and apologizes. For what? Absolutely NONE of this is his fault. If anything, he went out of his way to avoid it! You’re doing a good job I tell him, or maybe only said inside my mind. How on Earth is he remaining so calm?!

“Be on your guard! If a brother or sister sins, you must rebuke the offender, and if there is repentance, you must forgive.”

Luke 17:3 NRSV

This was part of the scripture referenced in Sunday’s “Let’s Fight” sermon series. It was also Communion Sunday, which means we also say The Lord’s Prayer.

“Give us this day our daily bread.
And forgive us our trespasses,
as we forgive those who trespass against us. Lead us not into temptation
but deliver us from evil.”

Luke 11: 3-4

I’m not sure a more befitting message could have been gifted! As I write this, I physically have to release my shoulders from their perch near my ears. Lord, I am in awe by your faithfulness and gentle guidance! Like the apostles, I cry for more faith. Lord hear my prayer. The answer? A few verses later in Luke…

The Lord said, If you had faith the size of a mustard seed, you could say to this mulberry tree, ‘Be uprooted and planted in the sea,’ and it would obey you.”

Luke 17:6 NRSV

*sigh* I sit back in my writing chair. Wow! How great thou art in deed!

Friends what I’d started forming was a sort of terrifying PTSD recount, when quite literally, He uprooted me, turning this piece on a dime into a completely different place of faith, grace, and forgiveness. I need to let go of that past wound as to not allow it space within my heart for comparison. I don’t need more faith. I need a better application OF my faith. Maybe I’m the only one? Somehow, I think not…

Let’s get REA/L together

reality

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reality

Let’s start with the title, “reality.” It’s intentionally all lowercase, which looks odd, out of place. The off center picture reveals a lackluster sink drain. And the mess? That all came out when I finger combed through my hair, prompting me to write this.

What we think should be our reality and what is reality does not consistently coexist. Unexpected events will alter plans, which is frustrating. Things aren’t always perfectly polished and wrapped up with a pretty bow, counter to the end of every Hallmark movie. When stuff isn’t in its correct place or done “just so,” it’s disconcerting and sticks out like a sore thumb.

However, this picture, I’d venture to guess, might just sum up most of our holistic lives. The “un”pin-worthy deleted pic. The unfashionable phenomenon called real life. The junk we don’t talk about or share, because honestly, it’s vexing. Who really needs another bitter spoonful of reality?

WE DO! Life isn’t all gumdrops and roses.

We need to see others’ unsuccessful attempts. It may keep us from making the same mistake, or better, help us realize it’s truly normal not always getting it right.

We need to hear about the “unspoken” harsh truths of aging, depression, conflict…things most of us will likely experience but don’t want to acknowledge.

We need to feel included in our painful loneliness.

I would dare to say it’s our obligation to keep it REA/L if for no other reason than this simple fact: it’s reality. An equalizing common denominator called truth that breaks the barrier between “us” and “them.”

“Lying lips are an abomination to the Lord, but those who act faithfully are His delight.”

Proverbs 12:22 ESV

Falsehood is fantasy. Faithful is adhering or true to fact. Real life reality.

So today, instead of muting our mess, let’s confess it in a safe space. It’s ok not having it all together. But together, we can make sense of the pieces, even the ones that don’t seem to fit into our plans. And that, my friends, makes reality a bit more palatable.

BRAVE

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BRAVE

As a fun “Mom” thing, I check the Nation Day Calendar for fun things to surprise the family—brought home some delish cream filled donuts, gone out for ice cream, made sure we ate burgers, etc. While there seems to be a reoccurring food theme, there are a barrage of other things on calendar to celebrate. For example, today is National BRAVE DAY. I absolutely love this!

Merriam-Webster defines brave as “having or showing mental or moral strength to face danger, fear, or difficulty : having or showing courage” Think there are various parts of our lives that we all wish we were a bit more brave. Or maybe, you don’t see yourself as brave at all? Today is an excellent opportunity to evaluate our thoughts on being brave. Let’s dive into this together!

Do you wake up each morning and get out of bed? Do you share? Do you seek to better yourself? Do you have a loved one? Do you ask for help? If you answered yes to ANY of these, you indeed are brave my friend!

Waking up and being present to face the day’s challenges. Giving a part of yourself. Learning to be better. These all require courage, whether you believe it or not. Give yourself some credit here (also courageous 😉).

Bravery grows silently and exponentially. Seeing someone doing something we’d like to do, which spurs us to also try, is the seed of courage. Simply thinking “maybe I can” or “I’d like to give that a shot” is a brave bud bursting through its shell.

Ever said, “Hey, I’m going to X, wanna join me?” BRAVE.

Tackling anything new? BRAVE.

Trying again? BRAVE.

Trust me, you are BRAVE!

“You are braver than you believe, stronger than you seem, and smarter than you think.”

Winnie the Pooh

“For God has not given us a spirit of fear, but one of power, love, and sound judgment.”

2 Timothy 1:7 CSB

“Scared is what you’re feeling. Brave is what you’re doing.”

Emma Donoghue

So in my REA/L moment with you today, on this National BRAVE day, I want you to hear one thing. I see you being brave, and I couldn’t be prouder of you. 😘

Blanket

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Blanket

It’s late…or is it early? Can’t tell. Still dark, so it could be either. Heart racing, body drenched in a slick sweat, I throw the covers aside and fumble my way into the bathroom. Trying to erase whatever prompted that trapped feeling, I splash cool water all over my face, attempting to wash away any of the unpleasant remnants, and watch them disappear down the drain.

If only everything were that easy. Remove the obstacle. Find different ground. Cleanse away impurities. Release the remnants. But how does that work when what blankets you isn’t tangible? When you cannot grab hold of the hindrance for the first removal step? Where do you begin when wrestling with an invisible opponent?

Catastrophically covered in doubt is simply suffocating and no way to live. It’s the equivalent of undertaking an ocean swim with cement blocks tied to your ankles. Now to the observer, it’s obvious this is an impossible task. The straightforward remedy would be removing the blocks, which anyone could plainly see–except for the swimmer who’s completely unaware of his cement bound feet.

Ridiculous, you might think. Who in their right mind wouldn’t notice the absurd addition? The swimmer, of course, who’d already been straining against the current, bashed by the waves, and blinded by the salty spray. At that point, one more ball thrown at the already struggling juggler doesn’t matter. Everything had already begun crashing down.

Doubt is the devil’s blanket. Although we cannot see it, we feel the weight crushing us. Doubt can snuff out even the most vibrant dream. When allowed to get a foothold, doubt multiplies and mutates faster than cancer. DOUBT is the devil obliterating uniquely beautiful truths.

We know the devil is evil, plain and simple. 1 Thessalonians 5 :22 tells us to “reject every kind of evil.” However, when the deceiver slips quietly into our thoughts, we often miss the opportunity to refute him before he wields his destruction.

“Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good.”

Romans 12:21

Good is God’s Word. Good is God’s Truths. “Very good” is what He calls His beloved, whom He made wonderfully and uniquely in His image.

Maybe you don’t see doubt as evil. That’s too far of a stretch. Ok, let me ask you this: how often has doubt kept you from doing the right thing? Standing up for truth when it wasn’t popular? Pursuing a passion in the midst of naysayers? Stepping into uncharted waters? Believing His Word over the world’s “wisdom?” Doubt is just one tool in the devil’s arsonal. And if the devil’s use of doubt causes you to stumble away from what God purposefully created you to fulfill, then that, my friend, is evil.

Doubt and peace cannot coexist in the same place. I long for peace. I’m weary from wrestling with the devil’s doubt. Evil has no place within me if I am wholly His. Lord, forgive me for permitting pockets of doubt to invade me. Protect me from its poison and purge this evil for good. Wash me white as snow, purifying my head and heart so I may fully receive the peace you offer. Cover me completely, tucking in all the sides, enabling me to rest comfortably in your trustworthy promises. In Jesus’ name I pray, Amen.

Perfectly Permissible

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Perfectly Permissible

It’s Thanksgiving. I’ve sent love and missing you messages to my circle. I’ve watched the parade. We have a roof over our heads. My husband is employed. Our fridge has food.

I am thankful…and sad.

And I believe that’s ok. Because it’s honest. There are no written rules for how I’m “supposed” to feel. I’m allowed to feel more than one thing at the same time.

While this may not be the “traditional” Thanksgiving post and/or message, it’s REAL. Nothing about this year seems traditional! It is different. WE are different. And that’s ok…

To my friends who are also feeling the effects of a non-traditional Thanksgiving, I see you.

It is perfectly permissible to be both thankful AND sad today. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. Your feelings are your feelings, and no one gets to dictate them. Period.

So in my REAL moment with you, I am thankful for my many blessings. I also morn all the differences today holds. Because, let’s face it, 2020 has been both kind and cruel. I pray that especially today, we reach out to those whom we know are hurting and validate their feelings. Trust me, they will be thankful for it.

Stop Looking

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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.