Me and Mark will have been married for 20 years November 5th of this year. There has not been a year when Lyme disease has not touched our marriage. In the beginning we didn’t know it was Lyme. I wasn’t sure if he was lazy, slacking, but I knew it affected our life. The year before his diagnosis he tried mowing the lawn. His fingers stuck to the handle of the mower and we had to pry them off.
Once he was officially diagnosed it was a relief and terrifying. A relief because Mark was finally validated, and terrifying because I had no idea what it meant for our life. It makes everything harder. We have gotten better at being angry at Lyme and not each other. Accept for the days when life hits the fan and it becomes too much and too overwhelming.
Lately, life has become too much and too overwhelming. I decided to pick up a bible study I had put on the shelf. And wouldn’t you know it (insert chuckle and groan) it was on being thankful. I do not want to be thankful in the season. I hate the phrase, “it’s a season”, because this hasn’t just been a season, it has become the thesis of my life. Yes, seasons come and seasons go. Chapters change and books change. But, Lyme isn’t a season, it’s my life.
“You have been my help, and in the shadow of your wings I will sing for joy.” Psalm 63:7
I a sign in my house that says Choose Joy and I have it in two places in my house. And, honestly, I don’t want to choose joy. I want to flush joy down the toilet. I want to be angry. I want to stomp my human foot in frustration at God.
I was journaling today and at first I aired my frustration before the God of the universe. This season is just too heavy for me, Lord. I can’t carry it. I don’t want to carry it. I just don’t want to do it anymore. And, then, because I know he’s God. My prayer went like this.
Jesus only you can move in Mark’s body, his job, his character, all of the areas.
Jesus just a touch of your garment would heal him.
You heal, Jesus.
You save, Jesus.
You are power.
You are might.
You move mountains.
You can part Lake Superior and you can turn it red (thank you Eddie for reminding NeeNee of this).
You are good even when you don’t heal.
You are good even when you don’t remove the fiery furnace.
Even now.
And, this is how my conversation with God will always go. I will always end up submitting to his plan. Whatever bushwhacking, terrifying, stomach churning adventure he chooses. I will follow. To be anywhere else is to forfeit peace. It is to stop breathing and it would mean me choosing to step outside of my relationship with God. So, even now, Jesus. I don’t know what you’re doing and I don’t really like it. I don’t understand it. But, I have learned I don’t have to understand your ways to know they’re good. I don’t have to know all the details to know some how they become a recipe for something.
So…even now, I will submit to your leading.