Part 3
So there I was, sitting in front of the physical therapist being told that my 13 year old neck and shoulder were as tense and tight as that of a 50 year old woman.
My incident in the car those months before had led into nearly constant discomfort and an endless series of appointments with doctors, chiropractors, and physical therapists. After every kind of testing that could be done, they simply could not understand why the muscles in my neck and shoulder were seized up and unwilling to budge. The pain was intense and generally unrelenting.
My life became hi-jacked by doctors appointments, PT, and more testing. Basketball and piano were two of my greatest interests and both had to go for the sake of resting the muscles and joints while we tried to understand the cause of my pain. The normal activities all the kids my age were able to do were often forgone as the pain was too intense or the activity would cause a flare up.
I had x-rays, MRI’s, and ultrasounds, and none of them came back with any real answers. There was no medication, new pillow, muscle cream, chiropractic adjustment, PT exercise, acupuncture, therapeutic message, nerve block , or injection that would bring me any kind of long-lasting relief.
I was prayed over by the elders of our church and there was so much intercession by friends and family on my behalf, I don’t think I’ll ever truly know how bolstering those prayers were as I waited and waited for healing. When it might have seemed that the prayers “weren’t working”, God was using them mightily to hold me up and to comfort me.
At the age of 15 I was sent to Mayo Clinic in Rochester, MN to meet with a panel of specialists with the hope that we’d receive the answers we’d so long been waiting for. The good news was that there was nothing serious found in the results… the bad news was that we were left with nothing that would allow me back into a normal life.
After a painful injection at Mayo I suddenly had a new found problem of panic attacks that would leave me stuttering speech for days. The doctors had always said that they were surprised with how well I handled the pain… but the truth was, while I was bearing down and pressing on, I was exhausted and diminished. My brain was telling me to be ok, but my body was very aware of how not ok I was, and holding in the pain was no longer an option.
So, as you can clearly see, teens weren’t picture perfect by any means, but I can honestly say my pain didn’t drive me away from the One I knew held every one of my tears in his hands.
The pain drew me to my knees.
I remember laying on the floor of my bedroom time after time, begging God to take the pain. I remember moments of defeat, of despair, of anger I knew I shouldn’t be feeling, but I felt it anyway.
I will always appreciate my parents in this season. They went deep into medical debt, doing anything and everything they possibly could to find relief for my pain. They had every intention of doing all they could for me. My mom was my constant companion at every appointment. Through the long drives, the ongoing and arduous stents of PT, every needle, test, adjustment and, exercise, every heart breaking appointment that left us with no answers… she was there. She knew when to cry with me, and she knew when to be my calm in the storm. But even in the most hopeless of moments, when I was drowning in self-pity and depression over the intense pain and what felt like ruined teenage experiences… my parents were there pointing me back to the Greatest Physician of all.
I remember my mom reminding me over and over that even if God chose never to heal me, he was still good and I would have to find ways to serve him and find joy in him even through the pain. I could either fight him over not giving me my way or rest in knowing his will was best. That he was kind and that he loved me. She would encourage me to read stories of the physical suffering of others and how God used them greatly and their hearts remained his through even in their suffering.
As a teenager, it was hard to wrap my mind around these truths, but looking back now, they were exactly what I so desperately needed to hear. What felt like such a severe trial was truly one of the most sanctifying experiences of my young walk with Christ. They say no pain, no gain, and I have to think that’s true.
This season of debilitating pain lasted my entire teens. There were no concrete answers from the time of my injury at 13 until I hit my early 20’s. It felt as though some of the most exciting years of my life were slipping away without my consent.
But you see, what I couldn’t understand then, and really only see now as I look back, was that I spent more time desperately seeking the Lord because my strength was daily failing me then I ever would have without my suffering, without that proverbial and unrelenting thorn in my side.
When I felt I should have been at piano lessons, on the basketball court, playing ultimate frisbee with friends or simply sleeping well through a night without a headache or searing pain, instead all I could do was sit… sit, and think, and pray, and rage, and repent… and grow.
God was bringing beauty from ashes, purity from pain, and sanctification from sorrow… and only time would tell what wonderful things would come from it all.
(Just to be real about my sin battles in the midst of all this… tune in for the next part if self-righteousness has ever been your downfall… the struggle is so real.)
My Family Freedom 