You’ve heard of #100HappyDays? Well, I stole the idea and adapted to fit my blogging schedule.
Every day is filled with reasons to be thankful. And yet the majority of my day isn’t spent being thankful. That’s got to change. God sent his son to save me - HUGE reason to always be thankful. And I’ve been freed to live a new life through Christ, released from fear, doubt, shame and self-reliance, equipped with love to serve others and blessed with all kinds of daily tasks and jobs to express my love. And that’s just the big stuff.
This is #100ThankfulWeeks to praise Him. I’m sharing one simple thing I’m thankful for each week. Because there can never be to much thankfulness.
Week 30: Sickness
I’ll be upfront with you from the start: If you make it to the end of this post and you conclude 1) I am unsympathetic to those who are sick, 2) I want to be sick myself or 3) I want others to be sick - then I have completely failed because you have missed my point entirely.
I got sick over Christmas. After turkey and stuffing and sweet potatoes and all kinds of sweet treats, while still exhausted from all the festivities and hoping for uninterrupted sleep, I felt it come on. It started as a gurgle, then quickly became nausea and just a few short hours later, I was hanging onto white porcelain. I spent the rest of the night and most of the day after Christmas curled up next to that porcelain friend.
Then there was the fever. And the pink pepto. And the bottles of gatorade. And trying to keep saltines down. That, followed by agonizing moments where I begged for enough energy to vomit. Because maybe then the nausea would disappear. Maybe.
I hate being sick and I hate nausea even more. I can deal with sniffles and sore throats and fever and chills and all that. But nausea. I hate it so much. Thanks to nausea, now I can’t stand the thought of turkey. Seriously, as I type the word, I feel a little sick.
Yet while I was curled up next to the porcelain, begging to be able to vomit, I found myself leaning even more heavily on God. And reexamining everything. Nausea has a way of cutting through cobwebs and doubts and fear. It has a way to focusing the mind on the basics. Can I swallow water? Can I move? Does God love me? Can I trust God? Will he save me?
When I’m sick, I’m reduced to something vulnerable and weak. Suddenly, even something as simple as sleep eludes me. I can’t shake the fever, I can’t end the nausea. My stomach bloats and I start to wonder if my digestion will ever function normally again. And I’m forced to admit, I’m not in control. I need help. Help to survive, help to keep faith, help to believe I’m not alone.
That’s the part of sickness I’m thankful for - the part where I have to ask for help. I like to be in control. I like predictable and steady. I always try to minimize risk, hedge my bets and play it safe. But even while I’m pretending to have it all under control, all safe and predictable, I’m in desperate need of help. I need to be shaken out of my comfort, forced to live by faith, to blindly trust. To ask for help and know I have it.
So as terrible as vomiting over Christmas is, I’m grateful it cleared my head and focused my attention on the one who helps me. I’m grateful for the opportunity to depend on faith instead of myself. And I’m grateful it only lasted 24 hours.
Happy New Year, world. I hope no one else spent the holidays next to porcelain...