Being sick happens on the race. A lot. We encounter viruses, bacteria, and germs that our bodies have never interacted with. But we also encounter Father’s grace in new ways.
Last month, in Thailand, I spent our first few days with what I thought was some kind of cold (or strep throat?) coupled with an unpleasant nausea, on and off. When we racers get sick, all kinds of pride can rear its ugly little head: “It’s not that bad. I can still move up and about. I’m well enough to work.”
I wasn’t exempt from these sentiments. “This too shall pass,” I reasoned, lightly. But it didn’t. One week into my symptoms, my conversation with our team leader, Drew, went something like this:
“So… if I’m still feeling nauseous…”
“We’re going to the doctor,” he finished. And go to the doctor, we did. Thankfully, our host was present to translate for us. I was so grateful for her! Visiting doctors in foreign countries can be a tricky (and sometimes humorous) business.
The diagnosis was quick, as my particular ailment was common to that area. Comforting. It was a bacterial infection. Less comforting.
Commence five days lying flat in my bed. And hanging out in the bathroom. And… not much else.
Funny thing: I’ve been learning that those with my personality type (“The Helper”) can readily see needs and attend to them. Sounds innocent enough… good, even! Yet, when taken to an unhealthy extreme, we can serve others at the expense of our own needs and desires.
The trash needs to be taken out. I’ll do it! We need to go grocery shopping. On it. Who wants to lead us in prayer? Me!
Now, all I had was a mattress on the floor, a fever and lots of perscription drugs. Taking the stairs seemed about equal to running a marathon. So I had to learn to ask for favors. I literally did not have the energy to go outside. So I had to learn that my worth did not come from how I could perform.
In between naps, I prayed for my team as they went out into the city to work. I prayed for joy for them as they stepped into full days of ministry. I prayed for safety them as they crossed the border into Burma and spent time with the refugees. I prayed for strength and laughter for them as they dug fence post holes in the hot sun. And God answered.
I wrote in my journal: “Could it be that me resting in this season could bless others more than me at work?”
This was probably the most joyful sickness I have ever had.
Thank you, God, for loving me and caring for me through my team. Thank you for refreshing my spirit, even as I lay flat in bed. Thank you for reminding me that prayer is needed, and important. And Father… thank you for healing me.
