Lightning Bolts

I have a chronic illness. It is a scary path that I wouldn’t choose for anyone. People often comment about what a busy and outgoing person I used to be, and although I am not so busy in the world anymore, I am still me. From a world view, I guess it seems as if I am not doing anything much, but living with pain, most days, is a full-time job.

When first becoming sick, I asked God what his plan was for me. My habit in challenging situations was to fall on my knees and beg God, What do you want from me in this? Usually, it would be a struggle amid a barrage of unending questions to my Father before settling on anything. But in the end, I was sure that I would find the blessing or lesson or new insight to think about, because it always felt like a bolt of lightning, knocking me back onto my knees.

But chronic pain is sneaky and can devour positive thinking if I am not diligent. I have sacrificed many days lying in a silent, darkened room, trying not to move too much and making a mental list of all the things that I had lost. I have offered up my pain to God in whatever fashion I could muster. I have waited for the lightning bolt. I have asked for the lesson repeatedly, looked for the insight, and made bargains with God about what I would do when I was better.

On the worst days, when I can barely stand or speak a coherent sentence, I sometimes ask my husband if he thinks I am doing the “offering up suffering” thing right. I don’t look him directly in his eyes, because I don’t want to see what he is thinking, but I see the shake of his head and hear him whisper, “I don’t know.” Oddly enough, I find relief in his answer. Maybe no one really knows how to offer up suffering, and I am not the only one who doesn’t understand the stories of the saints smiling as swords are seared into their heads and joyfully forgiving their oppressors as they are eaten by lions.

Still, day after day, I wait in faith and hope, certain that God is here with me. As I battle through discovering my own sliver of joy in suffering and wait for the lesson, I stumble across the priceless words of one of the greatest saints. St. Thérèse of Lisieux writes, “I found the secret of suffering in peace; I don’t say joy. To suffer in peace, it is enough to will all that Jesus wills.” I read these words again and again. My heart skips a beat, and I blink back tears. I think, I want what Jesus wants for me, and although I cannot seem to find the joy in suffering, I can find peace, and I wonder if sometimes lightning bolts come quietly.

I thank God for this quiet lightning bolt of understanding, and gratitude fills my heart as I ponder the words of St. Thérèse. I realize that God was already with me through each and every step and will continue to hold me through every day of pain and surrender. Through this new journey in my life, I am finding God in quiet whispers as well as lightning bolts.

Photo via Pixnio.