Seems like I'm back to the beginning, watching the same scene unfold: the pain, the tears, total loss of strength. It gets worse every time. I doubt I'll even be able to walk for a few days, my hands will probably lose strength soon also.
Plans are snatched out of my hands. It's hard to study or do any type of college prep when the pain is this bad. Much needed Time slips by as I sleep through the day, the only escape from pain. I hate relapses, they come too suddenly, with too much force. Just two days ago I was strong enough to run! And now... this. I can barely move from my room.
And yet, while I was reading Luke today, with an almost hopeless knowledge that the next few days would only be worse than today, I found comfort. Hope.
Even if my plans are snatched out my hands, an infinitely better one is at work. Even if I lose all strength, I can rely on a strength that created the world. Even if I hate the pain, I can love, and know that I am loved, Him who gives it to me.
And with His help, I can think of the upcoming days and say, as Mary did:
Be it unto me, according to Thy Word.
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