I've spent the better part of 2023 being mad at God. Mad because I didn't like how my life was turning out. Mad that I couldn't control that. Mad that He wouldn't heal me, fix me, give me my health back. Mad that I didn't understand why He wouldn't grant me that, to be healed. Mad that for the better part of the last year it's felt cold and lonely, as if a great distance stood between me and God. Only I didn't know if He put the distance there, or I did. I'm not good at a lot of things in life, but I'm good at distance, at building walls. I had to for so long, to survive living with those that were supposed to love me, and once I no longer had to build walls, I can't seem to learn how to stop.
So there I was, countless times, laying bed bound, or on the floor about to pass out again, crying out in the darkest of dark, cold, lonely silence - crying out for healing that still hasn't come, for understanding of why my life has to hurt so badly, and patience and comfort to endure, well, my life. Is it the worst of stories? No, not in the least. Is it the best of stories? No, it's an exhausting one.
Just as I was starting to learn how to navigate life post-cancer, to even begin to learn what that meant, what does the word "survivor" really even mean, and how the heck does that translate to my life. As I started to wobble, to gain my footing after all of that hell, I started to become sick, randomly, all the time. With no warning, for no apparent reason, but with the same symptoms and sickness every, single, time, with each occurrence coming sooner than the last. After several frustrating months, changing doctors, looking for anyone to actually listen to me - I was diagnosed with long haul covid. Which made perfect sense, because about every 5-9 days it's like living with covid all over again in the most endless way.
I had hoped, after I was in remission, that that would be it, there would be no more health challenges, no more hours begging for healing, hours filled with fear, worry, dread. I didn't dare think that, so soon, I would face something that would end up being worse than having cancer. How crappy does something have to be, to make having cancer feel like...relief...think about that. That, is my life.
As 2023 wore on, I had given up hope. Literally. I contained no hope. I had given up on God, or that perhaps he had given up on me. After fighting for my life to beat cancer, I've lost my life to long haul covid. I don't even want to count how many days a month I lose to this sickness, time I miss with my family, time I miss to exist, to do - anything. My family and I have taken to calling it when "mom's dead" because that is what is life. I'm simply existing, barely, in pain, fevering, heart racing beyond control, dizzy, nauseous, utter exhaustion, miserable, for days. I'm dead.
I'm tired of being dead, tired of every part of my life endlessly being another battle, another time of challenge, another time of lessons to learn and hunting for blessings to count. I'm tired. So, one day, I got mad. Angry. And I stayed mad. I would cry out in the darkness begging God to heal me, that I didn't understand why He wouldn't. I still don't understand. Like so many before me, I was angry. Because I wanted what I wanted, and He won't give it to me. I can't tell you why. It was a year of radio silence between us. Maybe there was no answer because I was asking the wrong questions, or He showed me the answer but I didn't like what He was saying, or was too angry to hear it.
I don't know, really, I don't. I started to pray, simply that He would help give me patience, for when I don't understand. Because I don't understand. Don't understand why I'm here, on this path, with no healing in sight. But it occurred to me recently, so simple and yet I hadn't thought of it before. That God doesn't need me to understand. He just needs me to....be.... To be present, be open, be willing, be accepting.
Present, in the day, today, one day alone, at a time. To stop counting how many good days I've had, hoping and praying it will be longer than it was last week. To be present, here, in this moment before me. Not the one behind me, not the one ahead of me. Be here, now.
Be open, open to the fact life, apparently, is going to be much different that I had thought or hoped it would be. So be open to what it is, not what it isn't, not I want it to be... Just, what it is, in a messy state, painful state, any state. I'll never see or hear God if I've closed up shop because, well, my life sucks.
Be willing...willing to go down the path He wants, instead of the path I want. Instead of standing here, in some sort of standoff between us, waiting for God to stand down and cave because He's tired of listening to me cry for something better. So my life sucks, currently. Lost my job, half my time I'm bedridden, the other half I'm stressing about how much life I've lost and continue to lose. God can drag me along the path, kicking and screaming, if He wants to...but it would be a lot easier, for the both of us, if I were just willing to let Him show me the path, and be strong enough to walk down it. Be willing...
Be accepting...that my life, while better than my mom's...that I'm just, at least at present, I'm not going to understand why my life has played out like it does. Just accept it, Darian. You can't control it. Sometimes, no matter how hard we hope, pray, beg, try to manifest....it's just not meant to be. So accept it, and move on. Staying there, continuing to be angry, to be so hurt, so alone....I wasn't going to make it. I wasn't. Mama raised a fighter. I have to be accepting that okay, that's it, it's all way different than anyone wanted, crying about it ain't gonna change it. Get up, move on, or you're going to miss a good day, you're going to lose it over anger.
And so I did...this last round of being dead, I didn't cry, I haven't been angry. The last few weeks, I'm here, in today, for today. I'm present, in my life, best as I can be, and hopefully present in others lives as well. I'm open, to whatever the hell it is I'm supposed to be doing. Which I really have no idea what it is, but I'm open to it, and I'm willing to listen to His plan, and walk down that path. I've accepted that it's going to be a hard path, whatever it is, I know it'll be hard. It's going to hurt and be scary, and I'm not going to want to do it. And that's okay. It's okay. I won't understand it, why I'm there or why I have to go through it, but God doesn't need me to understand it. He just needs me to be still, and know that he is God, and that in all things, He is there, with me, all the time.
Be present, be open, be willing, be accepting.....
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