Remember me? Maybe, maybe not. I remember you, though. I still think of you, often. You forced me to walk in a wasteland. My footsteps were not padded with softness. I was not welcomed. There was zero comfort in my journey. My experience through your vast wilderness left me bewildered, frustrated, and deeply heart-broken.
I do not know why I keep thinking of you. Honestly, you are not worthy of my thoughts. You are not a friend I want to keep, but gosh, in random moments, I still think of you.
Perhaps, it is not just you I think about. Perhaps, it is the whole life experience I have walked that involves you, my medical struggles, and my children. Perhaps, just perhaps, without you, I would not be able to understand what it is to be at a low place, at a place of complete joy, or somewhere in between.
I do not like you at all, you know. I wish you had no substance at all. I wish more than anything that others had no idea of who you are, what you mean, and what you might possibly be able to take away.
Do you know what you do to people? Do you even care? You cause the faithful to question their faith, the hopeful to lose hope, and the joyful to watch their joy dissipate.
Despite all of these things, I wonder if I would be who I am without you. Would I wonder about others who are exploring your place in their lives? Would I carry an ounce of empathy towards the plight of others who are experiencing medical problems? Would I have a heart for foster children and orphans in the world? Could I call myself “Mamma” to three amazing children that were adopted into my life?
It is ironic, you know. With you, I carry a bit of sadness, but without you, I cannot imagine the incredible gift of parenting.
You invaded me from the inside out. Sure, I was physically impacted by my illness, but I was also spiritually and emotionally impacted as well. It is crazy that you came into my life many years ago, and here I am still thinking about you.
Here’s the difference, though. I no longer allow you to consume me like you used to. I no longer feel you are a heartbreak. I do not carry the same burden about you like I used to. Instead, I think of you and my Heavenly Father, and I know that through His mighty grace, I have conquered you. You are overcome. You stand no chance when being met head-on by the faithfulness of our Father.
It is true. I do still think of you. How can I not? You have tried desperately to declare yourself as the author of my life. Well, you are most definitely not. You may be a character in my story line, but the author of my life is the Author of life itself.
You might be a part of who I was created to be, but you are not the whole of who I am.
More importantly, you will never define who I am in Him.