Weakness

(via Pinterest)
       My hands shake as I bring the mug of tea to my lips. My hands always seem to shake. I know this isn't true; that I have more still hours than trembling ones, and I strive to be grateful for this, but when the shaking begins, it seems as if there was no beginning, and there will be no end. This is a part of my life now. I have to confess, it isn't my favorite part. “I'm not the healthiest specimen,” I laughingly tell my friends, but it is true.
      I'm not sure when this all started … I only know that it has been a long battle. At first it was my joints. I used to rub my mom's feet when I was little. I remember even then, I had to massage my own hands afterward, because of the pain it brought to them. I was too weak to do the ordinary tasks without a struggle. To this day, merely opening cans is a breaking point. There are days where I find myself crying on the kitchen floor, just overwhelmed.
      While my joint aches and shakes are the most significant of my problems, they are in no way the sum of them. Just in this past year, I have fought with insomnia, fatigue, nausea, digestive problems, almost daily headaches, and more. I wake up nauseated every morning, and breakfast has become a source of dread; an ordinary, simple thing that taunts me mercilessly. Most days I just feel weary to my bones; like an aging woman might, I assume. And yet, this isn't the case.
      It is easy to become discouraged about such a situation, but I have learned to cry out to God when times get rough. When the natural medicine I am taking makes me gag. When just not knowing exactly what is wrong with me threatens to crush my spirit. I cry out to Him because He hears. He does not forsake me, even in this. 'But he said to me, "My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness."' (2 Corinthians 12:9a, NIV) When I am weak, He is strong, and He can use me for His glory. I take joy in this: my frailty is a constant reminder that I need Him. 

Comments

Post a Comment

May this place be a home and a haven.

Popular posts from this blog

Dear Ann {Coffee for Your Heart}

Image
This week's prompt from Holley Gerth is "Who inspires you?" Simple enough, but I didn't just want to say some names and leave it at that. I chose one who has profoundly impacted my life, and I wrote her a letter. She may never see this post, but I am posting it anyway.  (image via Google)            Dear Ann , You may or may not remember me. I don't know if I want you to or not. I emailed you as a girl a little younger, and a lot less secure. I emailed you in tears, and you replied in love. But at that point, you had already inspired me. I pulled your book off my mother's shelf, on a happy and altogether forgettable day ... I didn't journal that day, so that's all I know. I had stopped journaling when life stopped sounding prettier on paper. And I'd long forgotten why it was worth the fight. The pages of that book witnessed a journey ... one that still blows my mind. We left the church I called home; a place that I had so deeply based my
Read more

You're Not Alone {Coffee for Your Heart}

Image
(via Holley Gerth ) (Photo by Tara Gourley ) This isn’t easy for me to talk about, but if people only talked about the easy stuff, this world would be in serious disarray--well, more serious. I’m going to be honest here; the type of honesty that requires trust, and that is something that I am still learning, slowly . I have felt alone. I have stood in the middle of a crowded room and have felt so desperately lonely that it nearly drowned me. This has happened in my own home. I have been prone to anxiety attacks. I’ve sat on the floor, feeling like the world is caving in, and have only recently learned to text someone I trust when this happens. I have laid alone in my bed and cried myself to sleep. I know these feelings, and I know how real they can seem; so real that everything else looks fake and twisted in comparison. I have hid in corners and let the lie consume me: I am alone. I wasn’t. And dear soul, you aren’t either. Do you hear me? You. Are. Not. Alon
Read more

Endings

Image
Scott Henry Photography I am learning to appreciate endings Not just the happy kind And not the kind that screams, “Sequel!” or “their lives go as such” But endings True—perhaps upsetting—but Authentic endings In an age in which our phones are always open We get so very little closure Except silence As a teenager, I did not know That no one would call me to say that I was not being considered for that job at the market Their answer was silence I followed up And was told that my application Was more or less in a wastebasket Like the messages I had sent a stupid boy Who considered me not worth meeting In the movies I watched as a child, with my mother There were no unhappy endings She didn’t allow those in our house I remember watching one with her “Funny Girl” And sitting in shock as the credits rolled At having witnessed something so crushing That couldn’t be the ending, could it? I lived my life in similar denial Horrified by goodbye
Read more