Choosing joy.
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When I was first diagnosed with rheumatoid arthritis, I found that my blog encouraged new and old friends in a whole new way. One of my favorite passages in scripture is Daniel 3, and my heart's desire is to reflect the same trust in the same God that Hananiah, Azariah, and Mishael trusted. He is wholly trustworthy, even when my joints are not.
Today I wrote on my disability ministry blog that I don't want to be noticed for my limp but that I don't mind people noticing the limp if they notice my God in the process. While I would love for you to check out that post, I also wanted to come back here to talk a little more personally.
It's been a tough week. A week and a half ago, I was considering going on a mile run in the beautiful weather. (I didn't, thankfully.) The next day my knee started acting up, not from an active RA flare but from previous damage to bone and cartilage caused by previous flares and a few injuries from my childhood. By Saturday, my knee started painfully locking into a straight position. Sunday morning I broke down in tears at one point, frustrated that my mobility was limited when I really wanted to poke my head into a few Sunday school classes to check on some of my kids. (And by "my kids," I mean the ones who are supported by Access Ministry. I can't check on Dingle kids on Sunday morning without having them cry to join Momma!) By Monday, I was nearly ready to make reservations for a pity party: Shannon, party of one, please. On Tuesday, I had steroids injected into my knee, and I'll spend Saturday morning in an MRI tube to figure out which (probably surgical) option we'll be considering next.
Since Saturday, I've been fighting against the pity party. I know it won't do any good, but it's still enticing. A few friends have been on their knees on my behalf, fighting that pity party desire for me. And I am thankful.
Something happened last night to change that. I'm not fighting the pity party anymore.
Don't worry! I'm not giving in, either. I just don't desire a pity party now. It's not tempting to go there anymore.
You see, I could count on a blogger I've never met to help me get out of my pity party mode in the past. Sara wrote for {in}courage, but she also has another blog called GitzenGirl. Sara's disease, Ankylosing Spondylitis, has a lot in common with rheumatoid arthritis. In fact, AS and RA are much more similar than RA and osteoarthritis are, so much so that my friend Kelly (aka RA Warrior) is hoping to get the name of RA changed so that "arthritis" isn't even in it. RA, like AS, is systemic but also affects specific joints; both can wreak havoc in specific spots as they weaken the rest of your body as well. And both are treated with the same arsenal of drugs, like my trusty Remicade.
Sara is allergic to the effective drugs that sustain me, though, so the disease just runs its course for her. Her breathing is labored, her movements cause pain, and her immune-related allergies have flared to the point that she can't go outside. Not for a walk, not to get the mail, nothing. She can't even open the windows to let fresh air in or feel a breeze on her face. This has been her reality for years.
Yet the tagline of her blog is Choose Joy, and she chose the word praise as her resolution word to define 2011 for her.
And it will, my friends, in a way she couldn't have known when she chose it back in January. You see, when I stopped by her blog yesterday for the first time in months, I was looking for encouragement. And I found out that Sara is dying. Hospice is there, and she probably won't see October from her current body.
But, praise God, she knows Jesus and has learned to trust and rejoice in him, despite harder circumstances than many of us will ever face. So praise will define 2011 for her, as she will soon praise our sweet Jesus face to face, able to breathe and move and laugh without pain or tears.
And I am so privileged to know her. And I can't wait to meet her in heaven one day.
My blog header will be changing soon in honor of what Sara has taught me. I'll be adding "choose joy" in the corner as a reminder to you, but more importantly as a reminder to me.
Because why would you ever choose a pity party when joy is the other option?
Thank you, Sara. Rest well. I will encourage others to choose joy while you praise Jesus beyond the walls of your earthly home and the confines of your sick body.
Today I wrote on my disability ministry blog that I don't want to be noticed for my limp but that I don't mind people noticing the limp if they notice my God in the process. While I would love for you to check out that post, I also wanted to come back here to talk a little more personally.
It's been a tough week. A week and a half ago, I was considering going on a mile run in the beautiful weather. (I didn't, thankfully.) The next day my knee started acting up, not from an active RA flare but from previous damage to bone and cartilage caused by previous flares and a few injuries from my childhood. By Saturday, my knee started painfully locking into a straight position. Sunday morning I broke down in tears at one point, frustrated that my mobility was limited when I really wanted to poke my head into a few Sunday school classes to check on some of my kids. (And by "my kids," I mean the ones who are supported by Access Ministry. I can't check on Dingle kids on Sunday morning without having them cry to join Momma!) By Monday, I was nearly ready to make reservations for a pity party: Shannon, party of one, please. On Tuesday, I had steroids injected into my knee, and I'll spend Saturday morning in an MRI tube to figure out which (probably surgical) option we'll be considering next.
Since Saturday, I've been fighting against the pity party. I know it won't do any good, but it's still enticing. A few friends have been on their knees on my behalf, fighting that pity party desire for me. And I am thankful.
Something happened last night to change that. I'm not fighting the pity party anymore.
Don't worry! I'm not giving in, either. I just don't desire a pity party now. It's not tempting to go there anymore.
You see, I could count on a blogger I've never met to help me get out of my pity party mode in the past. Sara wrote for {in}courage, but she also has another blog called GitzenGirl. Sara's disease, Ankylosing Spondylitis, has a lot in common with rheumatoid arthritis. In fact, AS and RA are much more similar than RA and osteoarthritis are, so much so that my friend Kelly (aka RA Warrior) is hoping to get the name of RA changed so that "arthritis" isn't even in it. RA, like AS, is systemic but also affects specific joints; both can wreak havoc in specific spots as they weaken the rest of your body as well. And both are treated with the same arsenal of drugs, like my trusty Remicade.
Sara is allergic to the effective drugs that sustain me, though, so the disease just runs its course for her. Her breathing is labored, her movements cause pain, and her immune-related allergies have flared to the point that she can't go outside. Not for a walk, not to get the mail, nothing. She can't even open the windows to let fresh air in or feel a breeze on her face. This has been her reality for years.Yet the tagline of her blog is Choose Joy, and she chose the word praise as her resolution word to define 2011 for her.
And it will, my friends, in a way she couldn't have known when she chose it back in January. You see, when I stopped by her blog yesterday for the first time in months, I was looking for encouragement. And I found out that Sara is dying. Hospice is there, and she probably won't see October from her current body.
But, praise God, she knows Jesus and has learned to trust and rejoice in him, despite harder circumstances than many of us will ever face. So praise will define 2011 for her, as she will soon praise our sweet Jesus face to face, able to breathe and move and laugh without pain or tears.
And I am so privileged to know her. And I can't wait to meet her in heaven one day.
My blog header will be changing soon in honor of what Sara has taught me. I'll be adding "choose joy" in the corner as a reminder to you, but more importantly as a reminder to me.
Because why would you ever choose a pity party when joy is the other option?
Thank you, Sara. Rest well. I will encourage others to choose joy while you praise Jesus beyond the walls of your earthly home and the confines of your sick body.