the long lasting rainbow

it's hard to write out of places of weakness or suffering.  i do not think of myself as a person with illness or physical disability.  i identify with health and strength and at least the ability to try. i enjoy pushing myself- i don't like giving up- i don't like sitting still, or sleeping late, or lying on the couch while other people do things for me or my kids. this kind of thing is hard for me- it makes me feel broken- in a bad and uncomfortable way.

but.  we aren't always given ease or health or strength.

this last week has been rough.  the combination of amoeba funk and the treatment of that, and a pretty much constant migraine or fog after a migraine- has been bad. last night, after the third in an every other night sequence of bad migraines, i cried. i felt like jonah in the whales belly.  i waved my white flag and whimpered to God that i give in- i'm listening- what is it that You want? - i'm lying here broken and i still love you and know you love me.  i begged to please make it go away- immediately and forever- i'll do anything! please. 

what did i get? well, there were several bolts of lighting and lots of thunder- but the rainstorm was already in full swing before i began pleading, so i think, unrelated.  i was given some restless sleep and an ongoing headache for the next 7 hours.  i was not given relief, or an answer, but i was given that bit of sleep.

in the middle of all that, i got up and called my dad. because he's a doctor. because he's a good prayer. because he can physically track down my old neurologist. because he usually knows what to do.  but mostly because he's my dad and i felt sick and awful and too far away.

at 6am when it was time for the kids to get ready for school, i dragged myself up, clutching my throbbing left eyeball, and sat on the couch attempting to offer mike moral support as he tended to them, and hating that my kids are seeing their mom like an old disabled pirate lady.

i don't want disabling migraine headaches to be part of my identity.  it can stay on my medical record but it goes. no. further. 

but.

the reality is that these days it is part of my identity. (doh!) it's keeping me from the things i want to do and the things i need to do.  it's totally interfering with the rest of my life. and it terrifies me that it might be like this.

so i decided to play the thankful game.  i'm thankful that i'm not an a situation like many of my ugandan friends who can not sit on the couch and watch if they get a migraine- because the need to go down the street and get water- because their husband is in the village tending to their families land so they can eat. i'm thankful that my dad answered the phone. i'm thankful that he immediately emailed my old neurologist.  i'm thankful that my neurologist emailed me right back and said there are things we can try. i'm thankful that i was able to keep down the amoeba medicine even though i felt so nauseated. i'm thankful for florence who comes and can take rose to school for me.  i'm thankful for the little white butterflies that look just like the petals of the impatiens but then fly away. 

i haven't been asking the 'why'? or the 'why me?' because that requires an admission- that this is happening, that it's not going away, that it's (shhhh.....getting worse.) but this morning, after the thankful game, i did begin to wonder- what is hidden in this for me to see? what is to be learned or changed or understood?

yesterday, zoe had a pretty bad day too.  she'd 'accidentally' eaten about 4 hotdogs that must have been full of gluten and her regulation was off. around dinner time, i was walking up the hill to get rose and apologize for a zoe outburst, when i saw a rainbow.  it was big and beautiful and double and bright.  but i went about my business, knowing that it would be gone soon.  about twenty minutes later on my way down the hill, it was still there, bright and full as ever.  it was like God was tapping me on the shoulder and saying, "hey- it's STILL there. don't forget- i won't forget. i promise to not abandon you."  when i got home i brought zoe out to see it- and i told her that even when our days are so hard and we are full of gluten or whatever else is making it hard to think and be kind, we are not stuck there- we are not just who we are in that moment- God doesn't leave us there- that promise is right up in the sky.

but that rainbow was for me too.

and that is what i can and will hold on to.  even when there were weeks like this, and nights like last night. even thought i will probably have nights like that while mike is away and will have to figure it out alone.

we are not abandoned.  i am not. zoe is not. you are not.

and it might feel awful sometimes and we won't know why- but usually- that will change at some point- and we will feel better again- and we will get off the couches- and change the medications- and remember not to eat the hotdogs. 

in this seasons though- can i be okay with the mandatory sitting still? can i be okay with rest and help? can i ask for it? can i accept limitations? can i surrender a little bit without giving up? can i maybe understand zoe better? can i be more gentle with others?

i think so.  i will try. and that big bright rainbow makes it easier.

…so I will look after my sheep.  I will rescue them from all the places where they are scattered on a day of clouds and darkness.               Ezekiel 34:12