Nothing whatever, whether great or small, can happen to a believer, without God’s ordering and permission. There is no such thing as “chance,” “luck” or “accident” in the Christian’s journey through this world. All is arranged and appointed by God. And all things are “working together” for the believer’s good.
JC Ryle
I have always had a stubborn streak a country mile wide. I do not like to be told what I can and what I can’t do. I know that surprises many of you reading this. Along with that stubborn streak, I have also always been incredibly independent. Again–I don’t like being told what I can and can’t do.
I currently have an iPhone that is ancient in the technology world because my mom told me (in not so many words) that I’d probably get a new phone as soon as I was eligible for an upgrade. I am 9 moths past upgrade eligibility and still using my trusty phone. And I sure showed her, didn’t? A perfectly good phone without a payment on it. Ha.
When I was much younger, I can very clearly remember my mom asking me to go to the store on the corner to pick up something she needed for dinner. I don’t even remember what it was now! When I got to the Ka-geh (corner store, or what they call a bodega in New York), I saw my favorite cookies–Sable Sugar Cookies. But they were expensive so we rarely got them. When it was time to check out and pay, the Sable cookies somehow ended up in my bag, and then in my tummy before I made home.
When my mom counted the change and saw she was exactly Sable Sugar Cookies short on the change due, she asked me about it. I replied, probably with sugar cookie crumbs covering me like fairy dust, that I gave her all the man at the store gave me back.
Technically not a lie.
Technically not the truth either.
My mom and I went toe to toe for a good ten minutes before I gave in and ‘fessed up.
Fast forward to when I was eight/nine years old and my mom was about to paddle my backside–again, I have NO clue what it was for… just that it was well deserved-. My sister Lee happened to be watching and as my mom swatted my backside a couple of times, I refused to cry and let my mom know that “she had won.”
Afterwards, Lee said to me, “Jenny, if you cry before she starts she won’t spank you!” I got my last spanking in the 7th grade so clearly it sunk in.
(*Note: I was never physically hurt by a spanking. It was always done in love and discipline. Never anger or abuse. Now having my pride bruised is a whole different story.)
One day last week, a friend messaged me and off the cuff said that I seemed to be handling this new mindset and life change so well. I had such a positive attitude and they were impressed.
When I heard that my first instinct was to overreact, scoff, and say, “How dare you belittle my trauma?! Do you realize what I have gone through for the past four months? Do you know how hard my life has been and how much I hate walking this path? That I pray often for God to change my journey? Obviously I am not handling it as positively as I appear to be.
Instead I said, “Aww… thank you.”
And felt like the biggest fraud.
Because what do you say when you feel like you have put up a facade that is so far from the truth? That you’re playing a role in your life’s play but instead of the brave heroine, you’re the distraction from the real story. The interesting–and sometimes sad–plot twists are in the wings to avoid having to own them. How do you come back with, “Well, I think you’re wrong. But OK… I have many good days, but there are quite a few bad days…” I can’t.
Why do I feel like I have to sugar coat how I feel and how I am really doing? Why do I have to have people think I am strong and handling this “so well” ALL the time? Why can’t I let people outside my family see when I am weak? Why can’t I ask for help when I need it? It’s like I am eight years old again…. biting my lip, going toe to toe, and sucking it up so that I can “win.” Whatever that means.
I’ve spoken before on how this journey, though one I have to walk on my own, is not taken alone. And I am so lucky to have family, and friends on my side. But it has been hard. I have tried to look, every day–and sometimes every minute of every day–for the silver lining to my situation. When I start to feel like wallowing in my self-pity, I tell myself that I am so lucky to have my family/friends/treatment/independence because so many don’t. I mentally scold myself for feeling weary, or sad. And I feel guilt for not remembering soon enough that it’s not about me.
Except it is. It is my life and it is about me sometimes.
I didn’t realize the potential toxicity of this mindset until recently. It’s one thing to be grateful, thankful, and know where the joy in my journey comes from even in the valleys. Joy does not equal happiness. But to deny myself the frustration, grief, and sorrow because “other people have it worse” can be dangerous. I can recognize that I am incredibly blessed to have the treatments available to me that I have, but still hate that I have this disease. The two aren’t mutually exclusive.
I don’t want to publish this post because this post shows who I really am–warts and all. I am not always a positive and happy. I don’t want people to see me when I am tired, when I am feeling off, or when I am angry. (I wanted to say frustrated but there I was, trying to make my emotions more palatable.) Pride in my independence is a hard thing to set aside sometimes.
But sometimes, life is just that–unpalatable. And as a believer, to pretend it is always rainbows and unicorns takes away from my story of grace and redemption. If I never let people in to see the raw pain, the struggle, or anger, then how can I speak of the unfathomable grace that pulls me through? To belittle the incredibly difficult circumstances we live through inadvertently belittles the grace of God that pulls me through.
One song I have on repeat right now is Thy Will Be Done, by Hillary Scott (from Lady Antebellum/Lady A). It speaks to me in so many different ways all at the same time. It says:
I know You’re good
But this don’t feel good right now
And I know You think
Of things I could never think about
It’s hard to count it all joy
Distracted by the noise
Just trying to make sense
Of all Your promises
Sometimes I gotta stop
Remember that You’re God
And I am not
So…
I am not planning to camp out in my anger, or wallow my circumstances. I have written on that before. But finding the balance is where I seem to be stuck. How do I remain authentic to my calling and my identity in Christ while allowing my story to truthfully speak to the depths the love of Christ has gone to bring me back to Him?
MS Joy 