Maybe I haven’t had the chance to think this through, but putting part of your life up on the blogosphere seems slightly ridiculous – as if anyone really cares deeply about your personal life, likes, dislikes and problems as much as those people you talk to every day do. But I’m starting because of something my mother made very apparent to me in her sermon at church the other day. We are a community that shares and that testifies as to what we believe or we are not Christians and not living as Jesus Christ wanted us to live.
I have faith and I have a life with so much to share, to hope that I can help educate other people about those things I’ve learned about and to listen when others have problems I hope I can help solve. I hope there are people out there to teach me more than I know and that I’m smart enough to recognize them. I want to put my faith in doing the right thing out here on the line and act on it.
So this is the first step, the introduction, the prologue to the events of the past couple years that seem to have shaped where I am today. Whether the incredibly ironic drama inspires someone else to actively advocate for themselves and try to find solutions to the problems they have or whether people ignore it and figuratively walk away from what I have to say does matter to me, but people make choices and have to live with them.
I’m just hoping that my choices are the right ones, that they are inspired by Christ and his example. Otherwise, I’m not swimming; I’m sinking and that is not acceptable. I’ve laughed so I won’t cry, and I’ve cried when I just could not laugh anymore. That’s when I’ve reached down and sought my faith, and I’ve prayed like I never thought I’d ever pray, especially when I was younger and more cynical about my faith. Strength is not in denying; strength is in seeking and asking for help when you feel you just cannot go on any longer doing what you are doing.
So, who wants to come swimming with me? Look for more later, when I can begin to truly organize my thoughts about where my initial diagnosis with rheumatoid arthritis led me and the ongoing fight with three separate diagnoses that I know of at this time. Three autoimmune diseases sounds like a bad joke, but I’m still laughing. There’s no time to cry, just time to keep moving and keep living.
That’s what this whole experience is about – living and loving and laughing despite the pain and believing that there is some meaning in how I go about it. There’s a plan, even if I don’t know it. I just pray and breathe and move.