How’s Your Hope Meter?

As a chronic illness warrior, plans are scary.  It’s hard to plan for the future, whether it be a couple hours from now or in a few weeks, when you live with an unpredictable health condition. I am a planner by nature and thrive on knowing what to expect.  Nothing makes me feel more productive that a good, solid plan.

Except now I don’t know from minute to minute what my body will allow.

HOPE + EFFORT = PURPOSE

When effort isn’t enough, many chronic illness warriors fall into a heartbreaking cycle.

HOPE – EFFORT = NO PURPOSE

Without purpose, we feel less self-worth and we begin to lose more and more hope.

Even the most high-achieving person can be dysfunctional as a result of illness.  Those of us who are chronically ill are in this fragile balance of hope and purpose.  When we are unable to feel purposeful, we disappoint ourselves.  Our hope becomes weary.  We are afraid that we’re going to make ourselves sicker if we continue to push ourselves.  Meanwhile, we worry that others, usually our closest friends and family, will judge us if we have to do the dreaded deed –cancel plans.

We feel worthless and stuck, drained of hope.

Perhaps the momentarily, most hopeless character in the Bible is Job.  After losing his sons, his property, everything, he said, “As water wears away stones and torrents wash away the soil, so you destroy a person’s hope” (Job 14:19).

While logically we know we are fighting a chronic battle and must give ourselves grace, it’s difficult to do when you, your family, or your friends’ hopes are frequently crashed.  The knowledge that even the healthiest person cannot know with 100% certainty that his or her health will continue tomorrow does little to make us feel better.

The thing is we want to be well.  We want to spend time with friends and family.  We want to have a normal dinner without having to worry if the joint pain will be too intense for us to stomach our food.  More than anything else in the world, we just want to be normal and do everyday normal things.

Lately, I’ve had to make guesses on how I’ll be feeling in a week, two months, even a year.  Beautiful opportunities have presented themselves to me.  I want to claim God’s healing and trust that He is making a way in my wilderness, just as He promised. I want to step out in my faith and say, “God’s got this!”

• I want to sign up for the She Speaks conference sponsored by Proverbs 31 Ministries in August.  So many of my favorite Christian authors will be there, and I can’t even begin to imagine all I could learn.  I would be trained by writing, speaking, and leadership experts who have walked through the trenches and can share from personal experiences.  I’ll have opportunities to connect with others, who share my specific calling to write.  I’ll even have the opportunity to present a book proposal to publishing houses.  I’m giddy at the prospect!  But I’m simultaneously paralyzed by the fear of all that could go wrong.  It’s a financial commitment and it’s seven hours away from home.  Assuming I can convince my family to drive me there, will I have the stamina to get “my money’s worth,” attending workshop after workshop for three days?  When fear takes hold, I envision all the ways this amazing opportunity could go terribly wrong.
• Our church is in the early stages of planning a mission trip to Haiti for April 2020.  This is my and my daughter’s dream, and I see this trip as the mother/daughter bonding trip of a lifetime –the experience that will change her life, giving her fresh eyes and a powerful desire to serve.  But what if my cancer metastasizes?  What if, instead of being four months outside of treatment, I somehow wind up back at the beginning?  Even if I am cancer-free, what if my Lyme disease flares, putting me physically out of commission?
• I want to teach a watercoloring class to middle school girls at church camp this summer.  I worry about the heat, especially considering it’s not even a full week after my last scheduled radiation treatment.  Yes, I know I must take care of my body first, but back to my original explanation of hope and effort working in tandem to create purpose and self-worth, I desperately need to do more than lie in my bed all day.  I have so much to give, if God will only allow it.

I live in constant fear of being forced to cancel plans.  I don’t tell my daughters we are going somewhere special until about thirty minutes before it’s go-time so that they won’t be disappointed if I can’t pull it off.  My immediate family and my best friend are probably the most understanding, asking “how can I help you feel better?” instead of “you’re canceling again?”  This weekend my best friend planned a little getaway for us, knowing fully that I could text Saturday morning and have too much pain to function. Out of the two of us, I’m not sure who would be more disappointed, but I also know that she’d put her chin up and show up at my house to binge watch Netflix and let my body rest.

It’s hard for those I love, especially my little ones who need momma to be reliable, but I think it’s the hardest for me.  We’ve talked about “mommy-guilt;” well, for sure, “chronic illness-guilt” is a palpable, hope-crushing thing.  I want to model walking in bravery.  I want to say “yes” to these adventures and believe wholeheartedly that God will provide.

A friend of mine checks in with me regularly, texting, “How is your hope meter, today?”  I love that image, as if I have a gas gauge on my arm and it presents the results of a dangerously low or a full tank of hope.  Even with the years of uncertainty and the constant cancer treatments, it’s been ages since I’ve felt this level of hope daily.  I wouldn’t even have entertained the thought of stepping out of my comfort zone before.

And that’s something, right?

With each sunrise, God fills my cup, gives me my daily bread, and fills my hope meter.  I can’t know what tomorrow will bring, but I do know this:  Our father is a good, good father all the time, and his plans are infinitely better than anything we could ever conjure.

Keep coloring, my friends.

“Guide me in your truth and teach me, for you are God my Savior, and my hope is in you all day long.” –Psalm 25:5