Standing on the shore, searching for the star

The hardest thing to overcome when chronically ill is accepting your “new” life. It is very difficult after one has lead a relatively normal life to be thrown into a world which revolves around doctor’s appointments, hospitalizations, procedures, tests, medical equipment, etc. Your life turns from one of helping others into needing constant assistance yourself. Your life changes from one of being a hero into one of being a damsel in distress. Everything which you once knew is turned upside down and flipped inside out.

As the years have passed, I find myself yearning for accolades and achievement certificates. I know these are just earthly awards, but I crave accomplishment. My heart breaks when someone asks me about my life, and all I can say is, “I read the Bible, write Bible studies and attend a weekly Bible study.” My life is void of any great feats or wonderful charity. My daily list of accomplishments often includes brushing my hair, changing my clothes and filling up my ventilator water chamber with water. (These are hardly tasks which will earn anyone a gold medal.)

My life once used to be cluttered with ribbons, medals, trophies, certificates, letters of congratulations, etc. Every day was a day to strive for perfection and change the world. I flip through old photographs and find it unimaginable that I once accomplished so much. There is always a young girl with a bright smile cheerfully enjoying the limitless possibilities which lie before her. Nothing seems impossible. I thumb through a box which contain small remnants of my old life. My heart breaks when I am reminded of things I worked so hard to achieve. The accolade came and went. At the time, I thought little of the accomplishment because I was going to achieve bigger and better things.

Now, I look through my recent life—endless photos of me being in the hospital. Every image there is a girl smiling, but despite her best efforts, exhaustion and fatigue are rampant across her face. There are no ribbons, just a port in my chest. There are no medals, just a tracheostomy tube around my neck. There are no trophies, just a ventilator next to my bed. There are no achievement certificates, just a stack of medical records on a table.

In this new life with chronic illness, my greatest acoomplishments go unnoticed by the world. But I wait, for that glorious day when perhaps the LORD will say to me, “Well done good and faithful servant. You have been faithful with a few things; I will put you in charge of many things. Enter into the joy of your Master.” (Matthew 25:21)