I'm sure you've heard of Fibromyalgia. It's the syndrome that doctors and scientists denied its existence and made fun of the poor people who presented with the issue, until one of them developed the symptoms.
I reckon then it was all over but the shouting. It suddenly became a terrible illness right up there with Rheumatoid Arthritis and Lupus.
I woke up around six this morning to visit the powder room. When my feet hit the floor I realized my body felt like the day after aerobics when you haven't exercised in a long time.
Let me clear this up: I ain't done aerobics in, oh, say, seven or eight years.
What did I do? Let me shrug (ouch!) and tell you I don't know.
I try not to whine, but I know I do. And groan. And moan. And whimper.
And sometimes I write poetry when it gets to be so much I have to pour my heart out to the good Lord.
If I did not have a relationship with Him, I truly don't know how I could tolerate some days. But I know He has a plan, and I am part of it. So, I look for the part He wants me to be.
The following was a hard week's report. And acknowledging the solution:
The Storm
Father, without You I am shipwrecked.
It seems at times this vessel is too damaged to go on.
The stormy seas You’ve set me on play too rough.
The clouds are so dark I can hardly see Your Hand in front of my face.
I’ve called Your name for direction to safety.
But the winds are so fierce I can’t hear You.
Oh Father, Abba, rescue me!
I’m being tossed about in pain and fear.
Standing at this helm I see nothing but trouble.
Holding on to steer is hurting so much
I’m white knuckled with effort for control.
Where are You? What have I done to deserve desertion?
Your Word promises You won’t leave me.
Your Word promises I am Your child.
Your Word promises You will be in control of my journey.
Your Word, Father, Your Word.
Is it true?
If I release my grip from this effort to direct,
If I stop shouting long enough to listen,
If I close my eyes and look inward instead of out toward the storm,
If I trust instead of doubt,
Will You be there?
I need Your love and protection, Lord.
I need Your presence and peace.
I need Your touch to steer my life.
You crafted me, inside and out.
Creator who calms the raging sea,
Creator who breaks the darkness with Light,
Creator whose Hand stops the violent wind,
Creator who created
Me.
So whether I come crashing to the shore
Or drift slowly in on a wave,
Whether it’s tomorrow or fifty years from today,
I will look at Your Face and know that Your Arms
Will be thrown open wide to welcome me.
And I will stand from the deep waters to meet Your gentle gaze,
Take wing, and fly into Your waiting embrace,
Forever healed, forever whole. Forever.
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