Notes to My Siblings

“Riah, Riah, MOriah DO IT.” (With foot stamp for emphasis) My independence started in the toddler years, and what can I say, I’m consistent. Chronic illness has taught me that I can’t always do it, but even now, four years in, it’s rare that I actually straight out ask for help. ‘Because I can do it,’ I think. ‘Eventually.’ And if I can even kind of do it, I shouldn’t inconvenience anyone to ask for anything, not even family, unless I’m desperate. What someone else might hear as “hey, could you grab me a few things at the store?” I hear myself saying, “I’m probably just being too soft on myself and now this person I’m asking for help from is going to think I’m a wimp and a bad wife and what do I need to look like when they bring the groceries so they feel like their effort was valid because I don’t know how to explain why I can’t drive myself and walk through a store when I look fine and am sitting up outside in the yard.” I have a pride issue, true. But I’ve also been the victim of to...

It’s been four years + a month since my body crashed and changed my life forever. I’m not sure why I keep this letter, but every time I hold it I can still feel the pain I felt when after three months of testing and interviews I was one of two final candidates and I decided to withdraw because my health issues were so serious that I knew I would most likely be a danger to the people I would serve rather than a help. I grieve what I actually lost these past four years, but the grief of the could-have-beens is what hits me hardest and when I least expect it. Lately I’ve grown to notice that if I’m criticizing someone or something, odds are, at the root of it, I’m grieving something I’ve lost. That might sound crazy, but for me grief is often disguised as jealousy and revealed as criticism. I started to write about grief at least five times and then deleted and started over. Grief and grieving is a hard concept for me. I am uncomfortable with anything that I can’t “fix” quickly, and grief...

“Look, I spent the weekend crafting fun Christmas decorations! How was your weekend?” *Well, I spent the weekend listening to a friend’s cries of grief as she walks through the deep losses of chronic pain. Each of my family members are facing huge trials and I currently can’t live in my house because it makes me severely ill and we don’t know what we are going to do. I spent the weekend numb and tired and I’m getting sick which for my body means I’ll probably be knocked out for a while.* “It was busy but fine.” It’s been months since I had that interaction, but it stuck with me because our standard protocol for greeting and conversation doesn’t do life justice. We don’t actually get to SEE each other when we summarize things, and so often BOTH our joys and sorrows remain invisible. If something is great we are hesitant to be too enthusiastic for fear of offending people. If something is hard we are hesitant to be too honest for fear of being Johnny Raincloud. It’s easy for me to get bu...

Satan tempted Jesus and Jesus replied with the words of God and a period. Satan tempted Adam and Eve and Eve replied with Gods word’s and a question mark. Satan lied again and she believed it. Tonight my pain level is high. So high I’m slurring my words a little and my hands are shaking. At first pass I want to say I’ve been dealing with the more permissible temptation of believing the lie that God has forgotten about me. But God has been showing me the past few weeks that my biggest problem is not that I think he’s forgotten about me, it’s that I think I don’t deserve to be whole and well when so many others stay broken and hurting. I’ve bought, lived and breathed for my whole life the lie that if God gives me relief I will be taking it away from someone else. Lies. Lies. Lies. Truths: God is completely unlimited. He does as he pleases. HE is the author of justice, not me. He is just even (especially?) when it does not fit my definition of justice. No one and nothing can limit God or ...

"...out of the abundance of the heart his mouth speaks." I often neglect my heart. I work hard to make sure what comes out of me is right and acceptable, and I catch myself feeling frustrated when I make the same harsh comments or think the same bad thoughts over and over again. And so I try harder to modify my behavior and "do better". And I fail. I'm trying to catch myself when I start slapping my own hand for slipping up and instead trying to notice what I'm feeling. Therapy is teaching me to trace my feelings back to my secret places and ask why I'm feeling that way. Jesus is teaching me to bring the deep hurts and pains at the roots of those feelings to him and let him carry them for me. Giving up hurts is hard. Changing ingrained beliefs and behaviors seems nearly impossible sometimes. But I'm slowly learning that when I do give Jesus my hurt and pain, my insides feel lighter and brighter. And my words and actions follow, and they become life-g...

There’s nothing like being knocked flat on your back for no apparent reason to get the message across: you don’t have enough. You aren’t enough. You can never do enough. . We were supposed to move this weekend but it got delayed due to a flare. I’ve spent the last two days in trying to rest, my massive to-do-do list scrolling through my mind, screaming that I’m a failure, my body numb with exhaustion. The stress keeps rising and rising, telling me I’ll never get it all done, especially not now. I’ve always struggled with doing and doing and never feeling like it’s enough.... so much so that I tattooed “not by works, only grace” in my shoulder to remind myself that: I can never be enough. I can never do enough. Jesus is the only one who is enough. And in his incomprehensible goodness, he shares his infinite enoughness with me, so that I am made to be enough by no merit of my own. In my head, I know it is true: Jesus has made me enough. In my heart, I struggle. Am I a good enough friend ...

I almost threw it out because the rose had died. Then I noticed that the thorns sprouted new growth. Isn’t that just so much like life? The big dream or goal or accomplishment dies, and we wallow in self pity and go to throw ourselves out because we’ve failed... and we almost miss the newness that God grows out of our pain and sadness. Don’t miss the new life growing in you by staying stuck in the loss of what you thought was the greatest thing.