I cry as I write this. Tears fall from my eyes because an overwhelming; all consuming joy radiates from me. My mind is sharp and my body is well rested. This is a luxury that I have not known in years--four to be exact. There were moments when I felt like the night would never pass and the sun wouldn't shine. I had times when all I could do was breathe and know that somehow I rested in hands that were bigger than mine. I grew restless in those hands and I often tried to grasp onto my own self sufficiency. Even in those hands, I was broken and for years I felt that I had to repair the pieces on my own.
I felt hopeless every time a doctor came back empty handed. My medical chart grew longer and my patience grew shorter. My hope dwindled and together, Matt and I fought for answers. We leaned on one another like our lives depended on it. I learned through his faithfulness to me and his undying determination to find answers. Still, my heart broke within me and every time it did, hope leaked through the cracks and never seemed to be restored. I felt that all hope had dried up in me and couldn't be traced even under the same tests I had fallen victim to. Nothing could be found--answers or hope.
Hope has different shades. Sometimes it shines brightly as if it is competing with the sun. Other times, it is only an ember left burning in a forgotten camp fire. Sometimes hope resides in the darkness like a blackened piece of cool coal. The truth is, though, that in all three states hope can burn into us and warm us and light us from within. Through every broken crack, it shines even when we cannot see. There are different shades of hope, but at its core--hope is a blazing fire that can illuminate the soul.
I cry now because even when my hope was small, it has carried me to this point. Even when Johns Hopkins found no definitive answers, hope still warmed me. When I had discarded it at the curb, Matt picked it up for me and kept it safe until my hands reached for it again. Through the years of crying, begging and pleading with God to hear me and heal me--he had always given me the gift of hope. When I felt imprisoned by illness and my own body, I still had an ember of hope.
In this photo, I was looking out over the ocean in Eastbourne, England and quietly asking God when the vastness of him that made the ocean would invade my situation and heal me. I begged him to take hold of my circumstances and turn them around. With everything in me, I longed to be the ocean--to have no limits and to be able to bring beauty to the world. Surely his love and all of the prayers said on my behalf would fill the ocean and for a moment as this photo was taken, I felt that maybe he could hold me in the palm of his hand.
Now, three months since that moment was frozen in time, I am beginning to see the beauty of hope in all of her forms. Little by little, I am recognizing myself again--seeing my personality shine through new found energy and motivation. I still do not have an answer or a label for what my body was experiencing, but I have something more. I have a hope that outshines healing, though, I do believe that I have been healed. Tears of thankfulness stream down my face for all of you that have prayed, taken time to fly across the country to visit me, sent me cards and given Matt and me so much love over the years.
Each day, I am becoming stronger and with each day that passes hope grows within me. I will spend the rest of my life reaching out to those that have been through health struggles like I have. Hope--an ember, spark, or blazing fire--is beautiful in every shade and will guide you through the darkness.
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