sick and well

Somewhere along the line, you heard some lies and believed it. But far before that, you had a Savior who died so grace, freedom, and truth could reign in your life instead. So lay it out here and start getting things a little clear.

Messages around you told you that being sick was always your fault. You either worked too hard or played too hard, didn't wear enough clothes or eat enough vegetables. So being sick came with a lecture: you sleep too early, you stay out too late, I told you to wear a jacket, you eat to much meat and not enough greens.

Somewhere between your dad believing a body created by God is perfectly designed to defend itself, to your mom being physically weak...somehow you lost permission to be sick. Despite mom never being at maximum health and dad always claiming to be, it seemed you were to achieve the latter. Especially with all the nagging that came between being sick.

So you stifled your coughs to avoid the lectures, you'd hide your fatigue so no one would have to take care of you. You willed your body to keep going and to get better, instead of allowing your body the time to rest. You coughed in your room and hoped your mom wouldn't hear you. But you remember distinctly your freshman year in college, when Kaben brought over tea and a thermos when you were sick (but didn't want to admit it). People care for you while you're sick--in a loving way, not a tsk-tsk sort of way. Then two years later, he tried convincing you to stay home from Fluids lab because you napped between classes because of fatigue from the cold. You were grateful, but you also insisted it was okay. You couldn't miss it.

But now you know: Sometimes being sick just happens. Sometimes, rest as you might, your body can't handle all the energy and interactions from a five-day conference...that, or you just catch someone else's virus or bacteria and there's nothing, nothing you can do about it. It's not your fault your immune system isn't stronger.

Yes, there's something to be said about recovering well after a conference, which you don't always do well. But dear parents, I think catching stomach flu might be beyond my control. Yes, you had fainting spells at once in your life. But That's not your fault. You are not too weak. It's not because you aren't taking good enough care of yourself (not every time, at least).

And today, you also have permission to be sad: Twenty four years of age and you still feel like you miss the gentleness of a mother caring for a sick child. Even as you've endured your first round of the stomach flu in the past few days, you remember mom praying for you to get better. But you also remember the tone in her voice when she said you must have passed it on to dad (though he didn't get it nearly as bad), and how she tells your little brother you slept for three days straight like it's a piece of incredulous news. There are moments, sure: small plates of food, the occasional hot drink by the bed, a quick prayer for your health. But they feel lost in the comments of I Told You So's and This Always Happens, and the sharp edges (or is that just the Chinese language?) of her voice.



My God is a healer. One who knows my body is broken and imperfect on this earth. One who touches those who lay by the road, one who is gentle and firm. My God knows my body needs rest and that's what he prescribes. He knows that sometimes, physical sickness is a consequence of poor choices in time and health, and hopefully I will continually learn from that to make better choices. But other times, it's just part of the broken world we live in.

I think of touch. Jesus healing Simon's mother in law. the bleeding woman, Jairus' daughter, the blind man by the pool, the paralyzed friend let down through the roof, and the many, many more...with Jesus, I don't have to dread being sick. I don't have to hide from his touch. I don't have to listen to the people around me who give reasons to why I am sick. With Jesus I know he desires for me to be whole and well.