PINNACLE.

It was one of those moments, where suddenly life comes into focus. Water was trickling from the showerhead and down my face; fog was steaming up the small rectangular window above me. And suddenly, it hit me: I was living out my own worst case-scenario.

All of us have them in our minds. We might not talk about them, but that does not mean they are not there. Maybe it’s the fear of losing your identity or your job. Perhaps it is the thought of being single forever. Maybe it’s the thought of losing possessions, status or opportunity. Maybe it’s the fear of never being able to rise above your pain and your depression. Maybe it’s the fear of death or loss or grief. Whatever it is, your own worst- case scenario is whatever tickles and pokes at the base of your brain at night and keeps your eyes from closing…
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When I first got sick, I was only thirteen years old. I wasn’t thinking about how this sickness would affect my future, my college education, my marriage, my children or my career. I was just trying to run a lap in P.E. without having to go to the nurse. I was trying to figure out how I could still stay at friend’s houses and convince my parents that it wouldn’t make me relapse.

But then a couple months turned into a year; a year turned into two; two years turned to three. When my sickness didn’t go away, my fears and thoughts deepened…. Pretty soon, I was wondering if I would ever have a life again. I was wondering if I would ever go a day without taking handfuls of pills. I was wondering if I would ever look normal. I wondered if I would ever be able to escape this illness without looking over my shoulder and wondering when it would catch up.

Just before my senior year of high school, I melted down. I felt like I had a stack of books on my head at all time; the weight of my illness was too much to bear. I remember pressing my face on the carpet, which was wet with tears. My friend Luke was there beside me, waiting for me to breathe, to stop.


When I finally was still, Luke reminded me of the path of anyone who follows Christ must take: surrender. He reminded me that following God required a deep and complete letting go of my self: my hopes, my fears, my vision of what life was to be.

And when I gave it to Him, he handed it right back.

Senior year. Friends. Prom. Graduation. College. Freshman. Adventure. Moving. Dorm life. Learning. Passion. Sophomore. Freedom. Love. Home. Growth. Expansion. Health. Energy. Life. Teaching. Junior. London. Travel. Italy. Senior. Cooking. Friendships. Graduation. Student Teaching. Moving. Substitute Teaching. Experience. Vitality. First Job. Steve. Completion. Celebration. Italy...

SICKNESS.

Where had it come from? For years, I was sailing along in a life that was full of healing, joy and reward. I believed it was gone. It did not control me. I had left it behind. Even the tests proved it. But then, on October 1st, 2008, out of the blue sky, a wind crept in and with it blew in a storm…
On its way out, my sickness handed me a jar. In it were words written on slips of paper…
Surrender. Peace. Trust. Perseverance. Goodness. Faithfulness. Joy. Gentleness. Goodness.

I had come out the other side stronger.

But when I got sick again, my jar filled new words:

Despair. Denial. Depression. Anxiety. Lethargic. Fuzzy. Disbelief. Discouraged.

When I first relapsed in 2008, even something as small as a shower could wipe me out for many hours. I couldn’t stand long enough to put on my make-up in the morning. I had to sit on a stool, which was carried into my bathroom for me. Walking downstairs was a concerted effort, making my bed was too much and laundry was impossible. And yet, each day, I had to wake up and do it all again.


Day after day, I lay on that couch…Month after month I waited. I expected. And yet, there was no answer. No reason. No cure. No hope of going to back to my job. I had to let it go. I had to let another take my place- my students, my classroom (which my friends and I had spent many long nights preparing for the school year), my salary, my position. In its place, I was handed sickness- not a fair trade.

And that one morning, when the water trickled down my face and the steam crowded the window, I realized that I was truly living out my deepest fear- the return of my sickness and the loss of my job. Since I was in High School, I began to root these ‘what if’ fears in the deepest, most hidden places. I remember worrying about all the things I wouldn’t be able to do…And there I was, standing in my worst fear- the loss of everything I had worked for and everything I had hoped for…

Yet, I have to tell you- there was something curiously comforting about the sensation. I promise I am not a masochist. It’s just that, in that moment, I faced my fear. I’m telling you; there’s something to this. It gave me a strange sensation of confidence to look fear in the eye and realize that I didn’t have a lot more to lose.

I think it also made me realize that there was something within me during those years of healing that made me believe that I couldn’t do it again. Deep within, I believed that if God called me back to sickness- I wouldn’t be able to handle it. I had been there- done that- and now I was taking those lessons and moving on with my life. But for some reason, God allowed me to be brought back into this place of loss and grief. And knowing that I can be here- in the depths with Him again, makes me feel like I can get through anything- even my worst-case scenario. It’s when you’re at the top that you have everything to lose.