This month marks two decades of living with chronic health issues and constant pain. It’s not an anniversary I tend to celebrate. But as I look back over the past twenty years, I can—and do—rejoice in God’s faithfulness to me and my family. 

As with many long-term health issues, this was unexpected and unwelcome. I had just turned forty. Our family had also embarked on what would become a ten-year “experiment” called homeschooling and joined a new church that we loved. Life was truly full and rich. 

Then the headaches, fatigue, and body pain started. I initially thought I might be pregnant. When that was ruled out, I assumed I had the flu. After more than a dozen visits to multiple specialists and a change of primary care doctors, I was finally diagnosed with a number of auto-immune diseases including celiacs and fibromyalgia. My rich and robust life was about to shrivel. 

My new normal meant no more 14-16 hour days juggling home schooling, ministry, and part-time work. I learned how to scale back my to-do lists and say no like a toddler. I also had to smash the idol of independence and prevail upon others far more often than I wished.  

I certainly don’t believe that every cloud has a silver lining. However, I do believe that all suffering and pain can result in transformation—if we lean toward and suffer with God. That became my new goal. 

Lessons Learned

In moments of objectivity when I step back and replay my last twenty years, I’m amazed by two things: that I’m still here and that I have been able to thrive. I cannot claim that I’ve never been discouraged or overtaken by doubt.

Some days being faithful means not giving up.

First and foremost, God has come through via his people. During the first year, I had to constantly ask for help with everything from the laundry, to getting my sons to sports practice, to cleaning the house. In the early stages of my health struggles, I found it difficult to both ask for and receive help. Frankly, I had always preferred to do everything myself and depend on no one. Life feels simpler that way. This new forced dependence revealed my pride (I can do it better!) and my fear of being out of control (Will they do what they said they’d do?). Perhaps I would have eventually learned these lessons anyway but this season became an accelerated, masters level class.

My schooling wasn’t relegated to the necessity of depending on others. Again and again, I’ve experienced God’s sustaining power through my illness. The worst part of the early months was the not knowing what was going on and whether or not my condition would worsen. This was particularly true on the days when I felt like my head was wedged inside of a vice that cranked tighter and tighter with each passing hour.

What I craved was assurance that my suffering would come to an end. What God provided was an hour-by hour (and sometimes minute by minute) portion of grace that kept me going. 

During that time frame, friends of ours were dealing with recurring cancer. When I expressed to the wife that I could not imagine caring for three young children, working, and nursing a sick spouse, she simply said, “Of course you don’t feel like you could deal with this. You don’t need to. God gives us grace when we need it. Not in advance.” I had wanted to hoard grace like the Israelites tried to hoard manna in the wilderness. It didn’t work for them and it doesn’t work for us. 

Unlike with commodities such as laundry detergent or milk, we can’t anticipate how much grace we’ll need in the next 24 hours, let alone five years from now. If we assume we won’t have enough, we’re prone to anxious, controlling behaviors. If we can believe God will give us exactly what we need, when we need it, we’re more likely to live in peace. 

Many people who have dealt with long-term health issues have claimed they wouldn’t trade their years of suffering for what they have learned. Honestly, if I could convince God to totally heal my body tomorrow, I would. I don’t really feel a compelling need for a PhD in pain research. I’d really like to ski, and swim, and sleep through the night again. Barring that being a valid option, I plan to keep turning to God with outstretched hands, anticipating my daily portion of bread* and trusting that tomorrow, there will be more.

* gluten-free of course.

Photo shot in Jarabacoa, Dominican Republic

to read more on suffering well, I suggest Wendy Alsup’s book Companions in Suffering.