I’ve missed you guys so much these last weeks. I think of you often and want to tell you my stories, but either I get too busy wrecking and re-cleaning my kitchen, or I decide I don’t have anything worth saying. I keep waiting to learn the lesson so I can share something uplifting with you, but I’m just not there yet.
So I will just tell you like it is. I’ll start with the good, tell you about the parts that don’t feel so good, and end with the great.
The Good
I have been following my personalized autoimmune diet for about three and a half months now. I eat only the foods that provoked the lowest level of antibodies on my blood test. I enjoy a fair variety of red meat, fish, poultry, vegetables, and fruits--all organic and pasture raised so as to avoid toxins from pesticides.
Most of the pain that I had during my acute flare-up of Hashimoto’s thyroiditis and prolonged bout of insomnia has faded out. I sleep soundly each night, and my energy level is good, especially on days when the weather and my schedule permit me to ride my bike.
I no longer react to fragrances nor to essential oils, which I now apply to my thyroid daily (lemongrass, frankincense, and myrrh). When I react to a food, I no longer get tachycardia or bradycardia (high or low heart rate). I don’t get manic any more; that was the effect of severe insomnia, which creates a chemical state in the brain that is remarkably similar to intoxication.
In many ways, I feel healthier than I have felt in years:
I’ve gained 10 of the 20 pounds I had lost since last May.
I no longer get shaky and anxious when I am hungry, nor do I need to eat every 1.5 to 2 hours.
My hair is getting thicker.
The outer edges of my eyebrows are growing in. (Hypothyroid patients typically lose the outer third of their eyebrows.)
My nails are thicker, and they no longer split.
Despite being off all thyroid medication for nearly 5 months, my energy level is good and I still have none of the typical hypothyroid symptoms except dry skin and cold intolerance.
After nine years of perimenopausal symptoms, my periods have become more regular and the night sweats have stopped. This should also mean that my iron levels are returning to normal.
My resting heart rate is lower, which contributes to deeper sleep.
My digestion is much better. The frequent stomach pain, reflux, and diarrhea have almost completely stopped. Better digestion leads to better immune function and better mental health.
After two months of solid sleep, I feel ready to return to work and am now looking for a job. In the interim, I get myself out of the house and satisfy my desire to be with people by volunteering at my local library and at the junior high where I used to work. I particularly enjoy leading bilingual story hour at the library, but my happiest days each week are the ones when I’m working one-on-one with struggling readers at the junior high.
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| At the end of a happy day |
I have committed my latest scripture passage to memory and find great comfort in meditating on it daily. Although I usually can’t feel God working, I do believe that this trial is achieving for me an eternal glory that far outweighs the struggles. One day I will share the whole story with you, and then “all of this [will be] for your benefit, so that the grace that is reaching more and more people will cause thanksgiving to overflow to the glory of God.” (2 Corinthians 4:15)
The Parts that Don’t Feel So Good
I spend much of my time feeling alone and lonely. Of course I see Allyson, but she’s a typical busy teen. I see my family every week or two and my friends occasionally, and I often talk with them on the phone, but sometimes I just want a flesh-and-blood hug. I want to see the tears of laughter on their cheeks when we share a belly laugh. I want to just hang out.
Some days when it’s raining or too cold for me to get out on my bike in the sun, I feel unbearably sad and hopeless. I have to remind myself over and over that this time of trouble is light and momentary when compared to a lifetime or to eternity. I know that brighter days are waiting for me just around the corner.
Worse than the loneliness is the anxiety that tries to reclaim its hold on me. The main trigger is agonizing over my financial position and over the heavy responsibility of choosing a direction for my career. My heart wants to return to teaching, but the timing is wrong, and it’s hard to imagine taking care of myself adequately while managing such a crushing workload. Taking a job that I could leave at work each day and where I could earn more money makes sense, yet it also feels like turning my back on what God called me to do.
Another trigger is fear that my condition could be worsening. Over the last couple of weeks, I’ve had occasional pain in my joints and the residual pain in my skin has become more intense on some days. It could be something that I ate, but I suspect that the main cause is the stress of job hunting and applying for social services to help me through this transition.
One moment that brought unexpected tears was a trip to Walmart with Allyson and my sister Amy, who was Christmas shopping. As I glanced at aisles and aisles of items I could not afford, my mind flashed back to countless mundane trips to Walmart. On those other days, despite my careful budgeting, I could always toss a few small items into the cart without the slightest concern. How could I not have known how blessed I was? Would I be able to do that again, or would my illness prevent me from earning a good living going forward?
My worst anxiety gripped me last Tuesday, as I drove home from my first trip to the food pantry. It seemed impossible that I could be a recipient at the same charity where I once volunteered with my church home group. This isn’t supposed to happen to a person who adheres religiously to the Dave Ramsey budget, nor to a person who had scarcely been sick a day in her life. What if I couldn’t find a job? What if I lost the house?
I rubbed my sternum with one hand and switched on the blinker with the other, glancing twice over my shoulder as I merged onto the off ramp. “God, I need you,” I called out. I pictured Jesus seeking out a lost lamb. “Come and get me, Daddy!” Warm tears cut trails down my cold cheeks, and I dashed them away so that Allyson wouldn’t see.
A few blocks later, I pulled into the garage and sat for a moment clutching the steering wheel and breathing deeply. “I know you’re with me,” I whispered. “This light and momentary trial is just for a season. Even if I can’t see it, even if I can’t feel it, I know you are working in me. You will finish the work that you started in me, Father.” I drew in a few more big breaths, my shoulders relaxing as I imagined rolling my burdens into Jesus’s capable hands.
I rubbed my knuckles across my eyes one more time and called through the house door for Allyson. “Come help me unload the groceries!”
“See what I got?” I said, with a determined smile. “Look at these.” I pointed at some miniature tarts that I would be unable to eat.. “I think they’re… pumpkin.”
“Nice!” Allyson replied, wearing a matching determined smile. “And ramen?? Cool.” I grinned; ramen noodles have been a source of contention between us due to their absolute lack of nutritional value, but I’d brought home one pack for her, along with several boxes of Kraft mac and cheese.
While we made room in the impossibly crowded pantry, I explained the other resources I’d learned of that morning: food stamps, help with utilities and Internet, and job placement agencies.
“In about an hour, I have an interview with Sprout’s [one of my favorite grocery stores],” I said. “I’m supposed to take my resume, but I don’t have time to update it from when I was looking for a teaching job. Maybe I-”
“Mom!” Allyson rolled her eyes. “If they hired Ethan with zero experience, you have nothing to worry about. Just relax.”
“You’re right, baby.” I decided to work on the cowlick on the back of my scalp instead of modifying the resume.
The interview went okay, but I left feeling unsettled about the idea of working there, mainly because there would be no set schedule, and I’d probably work well past 10 at night. My sleep is still one of my main priorities, and I guard it carefully.
I explained all of this to Amy on Thanksgiving day two days later. Tears filled my eyes when I said, “It’s not that God isn’t talking to me; it’s just that I can’t get quiet enough to hear Him. I know if I could just be still, He would lead me.”
“Sarah, remember that the steps of a righteous man are ordered by God,” Amy replied with a warm smile. “No matter what job you get, whether it’s a transitional job or the next position God has chosen for you, you can be sure that it will be the right place. God is ordering your steps, and He is going to provide for all of your needs.”
A church song from my childhood sprang to the forefront of my memory, and I took a moment to marvel at the power of music both to preserve and to resurrect memories. In a voice just loud enough for her ears, I sang, “Rejoice for the steps… of a righteous man… they are ordered of God, they are ordered of God…. Remember that song, Amy?”
She shook her head.
I kept singing. “In the time of trouble, God will uphold you. God will sustain you. God will preserve you. In the time of trouble, He will lift you up. So rejoice; your steps are ordered of God…. Oh, thank you, Amy. I needed to hear this.”
Amy recounted the story of her transitional job at Radio Shack a few years back. “Remember, I didn’t want to take it because the pay was too low. But it was the perfect place for me, a place to heal.”
“Yes, didn’t you have a really supportive boss there?”
She nodded and told me how she’d regained her confidence there, and how God had then given her an even better job than the one she’d lost.
Back at home a couple of hours later, I sat at my table listening to the first Christmas songs of the season. Just like every other year, my heart thrilled to the wonder of Jesus coming to dwell among us, becoming Emmanuel, God With Us.
And then I looked up at the collection of scriptures taped to my refrigerator, the ones that got me through the toughest work year ever last year. “Wait for the LORD,” I read aloud. “Be strong and let your heart take courage; yes, wait for the LORD.” (Psalm 27:13-14).
There at my table, with Christmas music in one ear and the faint giggles of Allyson and her two cousins in my other, I felt hope bubbling up deep inside me, a hope spontaneous and delightfully unexpected. I thought about the scripture I'd just read: “Let your heart take courage.” That must mean that my heart wants to be courageous. Yes, of course it does. According to the Apostle Paul, my heart can overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit… if I trust in Him. (Romans 15:13)
Well, I’m learning that it’s a lot harder to trust God when you’re in pain, you’re unemployed, and your bank account is dangerously low. I realize that that is the point. I know that God has allowed all of this for my good and for His ultimate glory when His purpose is fulfilled in me.
As I said at church this morning to my friend Alicia, who has gone through her own terrifying hard times and come through to the other side, there are some lessons that can’t be learned any other way. How can I learn to rely on God alone if I still think I can rely on myself?
What I most want to learn through this trial is not to put so much importance on my emotions. I want to stop judging my spiritual walk based on how I feel at any given moment. I know God loves me just the way I am, and I want to learn to do the same. I want to “fix my eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen” (2 Corinthians 4:18).
Now For The Great...
God has been so faithful to me through these last few months. I could tell you so many stories of divine appointments and sacred echoes, but you wouldn’t have time to read them all; I really need to start writing more regularly again.
I will share just one story, the most recent. Through a friend at my Spanish-speaking church, Palabra Viva, I found a hair stylist who works out of her home. She does a great job and only charges $12.50 for a basic cut, without styling.
This past Wednesday, the day after my visit to the food pantry, I prayed all the way to her house, asking God to help me trust Him and let go of my fears. For the last couple of miles, happy tears flowed as I sang along with the radio. The lines that moved me most were: “So I will run into the waves / As courage comes to take fear’s place / With perfect love, perfect love.”
“Please, Lord… let your perfect love take fear’s place,” I breathed. “Help me believe.”
The first thing I noticed when Patty opened her door was her broad smile, but then my eyes were drawn to her T-shirt: “FAITH over FEAR.” My heart quickened, and fresh tears shimmered in my vision. “Oh, I needed to see that today,” I told her. “It echoes the message God just gave me through a song. Have you heard ‘What Can Take Away My Hallelujah’ ?”
“I love that song,” she said.
While she snipped at my overgrown locks, we talked about my health struggles and my current dilemma over my career path. Patty shared her own experiences with unemployment and changing career aspirations, and the faithfulness of God.
Like Amy, she encouraged me to surrender my will to God and to trust Him to lead me and provide for me. She assured me that my emotions are normal and urged me not to be too hard on myself. On my way out, we held hands and prayed for one another, and she told me to contact her any time.
That evening, she sent me a text message with a meme that gave me chills. “We are hunted down but never abandoned by God. We get knocked down, but we are not destroyed (2 Corinthians 4:9),”
“That is a verse from my current memory passage,” I replied. “It’s very special to me.”
“Amen!” she answered.
I marveled at God’s kindness and tender love for me. How kind of Him to bless me with a cheap haircut, a new sister, and a sacred echo to show me that I am still on the path that He has chosen for me, that my steps truly are ordered by Him.
I look forward to sharing with you whatever I find around the bend.
