You may have noticed that I only wrote one blog over our month in Myanmar. A month later I can admit that June was a rough month. I had been so looking forward to going to Myanmar, even hoping that we would get to do Unsung Hero. Only two of our six teams actually spent the month in Myanmar, and mine was one of them. Both teams did Unsung Hero. I jumped up and down when I heard the news. So exciting!
It took us three days to get to our city, what with border crossing and one way traffic. By the time we got to our hostel, my left knee hurt and was a bit larger than it’s normal size. I woke up day one racking my brain to remember when I hit it or when I said, Ow! Because surely I would have exclaimed at whatever bump made my knee swell so much. I came up with nothing.
As the week went on my wrists, elbows, and ankles also began aching. Strange. And then a rash broke out on my neck. Not so good. Then a different looking rash appeared on my arms. Could this all be connected? Time to visit the hospital. The verdict was an allergic reaction to a bug bite, now take all these medicines. There were a few days when my joints hurt so badly I couldn’t fathom climbing down from my bunk, so I rested. I still went and met with contacts when I could walk, albeit like a grandmother. I had a new appreciation for those who suffer from arthritis, because that’s what it felt like. During a month that I had been looking forward to so much, I couldn’t give 100% to the ministry. In truth, it sucked.
We went back to Thailand for debrief and I saw a doctor, a blood lab guy, and another doctor. The last doctor, I’m convinced, knows the answers to the universe. He accounted for all of my symptoms (not just one), recognized that I had been a medical guinea pig for too long, and gave me miracle drugs.
The first week and a half of Cambodia I felt amazing! My joints were normal sized and the pain had diminished. Our ministry in Cambodia involved a lot of playing with kids. I lifted them up and swung them around and played all the games with them. Until one day my wrists starting hurting again. I couldn’t lift the kids with my hands; I couldn’t swing them around. I had to say no to their precious and excited faces. And then my ankle swelled. And I couldn’t squat and stand so much during duck, duck, goose (I was goose a lot). And I woke up unable to move my elbow normally. Why was this happening again?
I kept Mom up to date with how I felt, as she is my biggest prayer warrior. She encouraged me one day with thoughts from Habakkuk 3. She asked, Can you still praise and rejoice in God through hardship? Can you still praise and rejoice in God even when you are suffering, not feeling well, with your pain and swelling?
Yes. I checked my heart and found no anger towards God, only towards whatever bug bit me. Despite the return of pain, which was merely inhibiting instead of debilitating as in Myanmar, I loved playing with the kids. I loved studying God’s Word and then sharing what I studied. I loved entering into times of worship with my team and with the church. My prayer life continued. I could still thank God for the many things He blessed me with, especially TWELVE puppies to play with and children that captured my heart. Despite the return of pain, Cambodia was a month of refreshment, of refilling, of renewal. It’s easy to become tired in month seven of the race, but I began to feel like it was month one again.
Today I was reading in Crazy Love, by Francis Chan, and I continued processing this arbovirus that I have. Chan wrote about safety and how we always pray that God allow us safe travels and keep us healthy. How many times on the race have I prayed that prayer for safety? I can’t even count. What he wrote made me pause:
“We’ve elevated safety to the neglect of whatever God’s best is, whatever would bring God the most glory, or whatever would accomplish His purposes in our lives and in the world… People who are obsessed with Jesus aren’t consumed with their personal safety and comfort above all else. Obsessed people care more about God’s kingdom coming to this earth than their own lives being shielded from pain or distress” (page 133).
Wow.
Every time we travel on the race, we pray for safety. Especially when we fly Malaysia Air. In my head I know that anything can happen to me, and if it did I would want it somehow to bring glory to God. That doesn’t mean I’m ready to go down in a plane crash or become injured in a moto accident. Maybe I won’t be miraculously healed from this arbovirus. What have I done, though, to shine glory on God despite the pain? Besides assuring Mom that I am still loving the race and that this virus isn’t all-consuming? Nothing, really. I titled a blog a month ago and never added words. Some of you didn’t even know that I have a virus. How can I shine glory on God if I don’t become vulnerable about what goes through my head?
Today I am feeling great. The minimal pain I felt upon waking is gone. I have spent the entire afternoon in a house in silence with only one teammate, reading and studying and processing and writing. I look down at my ankles and can see each bone and each vein. I don’t even remember them being this small before! I thank God every time I look at my bony ankles and feet. I thank Him that I can walk all over this town without hobbling. I thank Him that I have teammates to open jars when I cannot. I thank Him for the thunder rumbling outside. He’s pretty awesome, this God of mine.
Quotes taken from:
Chan, Francis. Crazy Love: Overwhelmed by a Relentless God. Colorado Springs: David C Cook, 2008.
