Six months later at the follow-up, I explained that the pain was slightly more manage-able, but only because I had stopped doing anything that could aggravate the pain. He ended the appointment with, "It's still not conclusive. It looks closest to early-RA so it may become full-blown in a few years. Let's continue to monitor, and I know it's hard but keep trying to live your life as normally as possible."

I smiled and thanked him, because I knew he saw far worse cases than mine, and he was trying to encourage, but inside I was burning with frustration and fighting back tears. Live life normally? I could barely get through the work day, sleep, or get my mind off the fear of what was to come in the future. And those were just the big things. I couldn't use a fork or chopsticks to eat or even open my water bottle. And then there were my favorite things: goodbye baking, cooking, painting, rock climbing (good thing I didn't care for other physical activities....) It was difficult to keep up with relationships, because I had no energy for anything social- my Friday night goal was to lay in bed with a heat pack.

It was a spiral of bitterness, self-pity, and hopelessness. But throughout the past year and a half, God has been changing my perspective in a few ways:

1. It is so natural to be self-focused and coveting. I was constantly jealous that others could do things that I could not. I really need to be reminded that I am not entitled to or deserve anything, not even the things we most take for granted.

2. When abilities, activities, and relationships were stripped away, I honestly felt like a different person. I still do most days. But I have to remember that none of these things make us who we are. At the core, my identity is entirely in Christ.

3. I have prided myself in being independent over the years, so I'm not used to asking for help from others. But in desperation, sisters in my small group typed up my work reports, church and family members dropped off meals, and friends called to lift up prayers. I am so thankful God used these people to melt away much of my bitterness.

4. Autoimmune diseases are often called "invisible illnesses" because on the outside the person looks perfectly fine, but is managing chronic pain on the inside. This makes me think of all the other invisible pain that people around us are bearing but not necessarily showing- be it depression, mourning, relational conflicts, loneliness, financial hardships, or other stressors. I pray that the Lord may use this trial to help me see and care more for the invisible.

5. I think perseverance through trials strangely allows us to see more clearly- that they are but momentary afflictions.


"So we do not lose heart. Though our outer self is wasting away, our inner self is being renewed day by day. For this light momentary affliction is preparing for us an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison, as we look not to the things that are seen but to the things that are unseen. For the things that are seen are transient, but the things that are unseen are eternal."
-2 Corinthians 4:16-18