Chikungunya a.k.a.“Chicken” for short.
I never even heard of this disease until I lived in Haiti. In the beginning, they talked about chicken and it being nicknamed the “bone-breaking disease” for a reason. They said that the odds of contracting this disease were low, so I didn’t pay much attention to it.
I went through all of Haiti, Miami, our debrief in La Paz, and our first day of camp just fine. It wasn’t until our second day at camp that my life was turned upside down.
It was our first day of ministry, and as a squad we were moving rocks from the river to different paths marked out. I loved being in the water, hearing the water rush past us, admiring all of the river rocks, and laughing and joking with everyone.
It was glorious.
That afternoon though, my arms and legs started tingling. I didn’t think much of it because we were lifting heavy rocks that morning and I had a sore throat. I thought it could be just a cold.
I kept suppressing whatever was going on. After dinner, I was lying in my hammock utterly baffled. I finally gathered the strength to get up and made a beeline for Amanda to just let her know that something weird was happening to me.
When I went to open my mouth and talk about it, I let everything bubble to the surface. It was a like a tidal wave of pain crashing down on me. Every bone in my body and my thoughts in my head were screaming at me.
It was horrifying.
I couldn’t believe that I contracted chicken. Haiti felt like eons ago. And here it was, haunting me in Bolivia.
The past two weeks were painful. I felt and saw in my mind every single bone in my body break, I had fever and chills, I had and still have such a deep ache in my joints/bones, and to do simple tasks like walking to the bathroom takes all my energy.
Oh and the best part is that there is no cure. Reading up on it, I could be done with it now, or I could have it for weeks, months, or years. I get to be in the passenger seat and ride out this painful joyride.
BUT, (and here’s the important part!) I wouldn’t change my time in Bolivia for anything. My race just looks different from everyone else.
I know that God didn’t give me chicken, but I know He can redeem it.
And it’s been both incredible and humbling.
What better way for God to tackle my pride, desire to people-please, and dislike for showing weakness all at once?
I’m learning that it’s okay to not be okay, accepting help and being grateful for it, knowing that when I am weak, He is strong, separating my expectations from my hope, learning how to listen, and knowing that my Savior loves me and can redeem ALL things.
When I look back on these two weeks, the word that comes to mind is thankful. I’m beyond thankful. I have been spoon fed by my squad mates multiple times because I didn’t have the strength to lift my spoon, I had people get me my meals, pour me water for my water bottle, do my laundry, pray for me, and help me process through this time.
I can see why old people or handicapped people love asking people how their day was. For me, because I can’t physically participate, I love living vicariously through people and seeing how God is working in each of their lives.
I’ve learned to appreciate the simple things. The beauty of a butterfly fluttering to and fro, watching my teammates swing on the swing we made, seeing a humming bird flit by, enjoying the feeling of lifting up a pen and writing down my thoughts, spending time talking and laughing with my squad, the list could go on and on.
In every country I write down at least 100 things I’m thankful for, and I’m already at 80 moments that I’m thankful for during my time here.
In Hebrews 12:1 it says, “Let us run with perseverance the race set out for us.”
I always associated that with physically running (running is my jam!) and moving with purpose, so I was frustrated that I couldn’t do that this month.
Essentially what I was doing was yelling and banging on the door God shut on me, when all I had to do was wipe my tears, turn my body to the left, and walk through the beautiful, wide open door He placed before me.
My running this month looks like sitting still. It’s wonderful to know I’m still moving forward with perseverance in a different way. Because I can’t physically run around, I’ve had the opportunity to sit and listen to my teammates and God, focus on logistics, pray, process, and capture moments.
Sometimes unexpected things happen. Sometimes the situation looks painful or bleak. Sometimes it seems like it’s more than we can bear.
But we always have a choice.
We can choose to press into God. We can choose to gather our family and have people praying for us. We can choose to have hope. We can choose to believe that we can do all things through Him who gives us strength.
So the choice is yours. What do you choose?
