Angels Bestowing Hope

I have had an emotional day today. Tears come strolling down my cheeks without notice and without permission. I cannot contain all this emotional turmoil any longer. It has been two years now that I have dealt with ongoing and progressive chronic pain. I do not know why I have it or where it exactly it all comes from. I just merely know that I am in pain nearly every minute of every day. I do not sleep because of this pain, at least not well. I am moodier because of this pain. I have been to doctor after doctor trying to figure out the source of the pain and each have their own answers with their tunnel vision due to being specialists. I have lost hope and faith in doctors and Western Medicine altogether quite honestly.

The problem with pain is that it is subjective. No one can really understand my physical and emotional pain because no one is me. My body is unique. My mind is unique. And in that, I have a body that has its own way of responding to the pain and a mind that handles it uniquely. So to be seen by doctor after doctor that simplify my dilemma to bunch of numbers on a pain scale or circling faces that match how I feel is belittling and frustrating. I am so depressed at this point about my physical situation that I just want to give up.

However, this evening, my friend Evelyn (an angel from heaven no less) reminded me that God is here with me and that he has it figured out. She reminded me that I have to stop trying to control every thing and give all this over to God. For me that is a really hard thing to do, Type A personality that I am. She also reminded me to remember all the times in the past where it seemed hopeless but in the end hope prevailed and it all really was okay.

Maybe every little thing will be alright. Maybe it won't. However, hoping for the best is better than fearing the worst.

I pray that I can give all my worries, my anxieties, my frustrations and anger to God above. At times this involves some yelling and shouting and fist shaking at Him...because sometimes that's all I have in me to do. Other times it involves crying my eyes out into my pillow on my bed holding my dog or my husband. Other times it means throwing it all into some canvas with some paint and then walking away with a new found reassurance that all the things that seem so big and monstrous will eventually seem so little when looking at them from years from now.

I don't have it all figured out. I don't know exactly how, in these circumstances, to give it all over to God or exactly why that is required of me. It seems a little absurd really. But maybe it is in the absurd that hope is realized and found and eventually practiced.