I Can Do It Myself!

It was two weeks before the start of our Women's Bible Study. The new outline was ready and my brain was already racing ahead to the things we would cover in the coming sessions. The first week would be about Jesus' passion for us, how much He loved us and what it cost Him.

I had been working part-time but had gone to full-time several weeks before. I believed it was the right thing to do. I didn't bother to check with God since He had to be behind me getting the job in the first place, right? The extra money was going to come in handy and give me pocket money for my hobbies. As I sat at the computer typing, my vision blurred. The episode lasting only a few minutes and went away. I ignored it. When it happened again the next day with more frequency, my concern grew. Within 24 hours, my vision was constantly doubled. I was unsteady on my feet and nauseous from the double vision. When it didn't go away, I feared I might be having a stroke. So did the doctors. Having no health insurance, I was not happy when they admitted me to the hospital for tests. And I was definitely not happy when the tests revealed a diagnosis I never in my wildest dreams would have anticipated – multiple sclerosis.

When the doctor came in to break the news, I was alone. My husband was already at church, getting ready for the Wednesday night service. Less than five minutes before service started, I called him with the news. Very matter-of-factly, he told me we would deal with it and asked if further tests, which would cost more money, really be necessary? I assured him I would not agree to any frivolous testing. He prayed for me and hung up. After all, church was about to start.

Tears filled my eyes and spilled down my cheeks as I lay there alone. Doesn't he care? Can't he tell, after all these years, how scared I am? He's just worried about the bills! I didn't know until later that when he prayed for me during service, his voice cracked and his composure crumbled. We were heading into a crisis. Later on, he told me his response was one of trying to keep me calm, to be strong for me. Completely ignorant of this, I spent the evening afraid, angry and anxious.

Getting over the initial irrational thought that my husband couldn't care less, I turned to God. After all, isn't that what we're supposed to do as Christians? Why, God, are You letting this happen? Haven't I been through enough already? I can't work like this. Isn't it enough that my son can't walk and we have to take care of nearly all of his needs? Isn't it enough that I have aging parents to look after? Isn't it enough that I came to the desert to do Your work? Isn't it enough already??? From where I'm laying, I'm not sure You're being very fair about this. You could take it away. You could change the diagnosis. You could fix it!

Not long after my son's accident, I quoted to my mother the verse that God never gives us more than we can handle. She replied, “Well, maybe you should stop being so good at handling all this stuff and then it wouldn't happen!”

I thought about that as the nurse came into draw more blood. I'm not handling this at all and, God, You promised me … I let my thoughts trail off. I wish I could tell you I went immediately to prayer, seeking His face, turning to Him like I knew I should. But I didn't. I puddled up. Emotional exhaustion filled every bit of my heart. The only thought that made any sense was to simply do what I was supposed to.

I think this is the part that makes me the most sad. The answer to doing what I was supposed to do was to get the Bible study ready or postpone it if I couldn't do that and show up at church Sunday morning so the congregation could see my faith was still as strong as ever, that I would face this crisis just as I had all the ones that had gone before. I would do the things that were needed. I just ignored doing the one thing that was needful.