Hello, my Fellow Wanderers,

Thank you for taking the time to be here with me today. I know the world holds much suffering, and many of you, like me, live with chronic illness—each carrying your own story, woven with the multicolored threads of struggle and resilience.

​

​​

I want to share a part of my journey—the overlapping diagnoses and lived symptoms that have shaped my life from the very beginning, now “justified” by my latest diagnosis of Ehlers-Danlos syndrome. Though troubling visual, neurological, and muscular degenerative issues persist, hinting at deeper undiagnosed complications and the path ahead remains uncertain, I share this now in the hope of fostering understanding and offering support to those who may find themselves (or their loved ones) on a similar journey. . .

​More details on my journey and specific systems and co-morbidities will eventually be added to the Health Journey blog and will be linked here (it's a long long list . . .). But for now, the highlights and the ending of this "story" are the most important parts to share here.

​

​

Sharing my story with the world has been an uphill battle—filled with frustration, disbelief, and loss. From dismissive doctors and a skeptical community to relationships that faded under the weight of misunderstanding, I have faced rejection in places where I should have found support. Life plans ruined (including starting a family), beloved activities abandoned—hiking, traveling—things that once filled me with joy now only make me worse. I have waited years for official diagnoses for illnesses I knew I had five years before, watching time and hopes and plans slip away, while the medical system lagged behind.

​

Hope has been dangled before me, only to be snatched away, each collapsed hope more devastating than the last. And through it all, I have often not been met with understanding, but with doubt. Skepticism, instead of support. Judgment, instead of love. And with every questioning glance, every dismissive remark, my mute button gets pressed again. And I know I am not alone in this experience.

​

​​

​

One of the deepest sorrows in all of this, for me personally, is that if the people around me do not believe or seek to understand my illness, they cannot grasp the challenges I face each day. And if they do not see the battles I fight, they cannot comprehend the strength it takes to endure—to hold onto even the smallest joy, to press forward in search of purpose. In failing to see my struggle, they also fail to see the strength God has given me to face it. My suffering, and the way He transforms me through it, becomes invisible. My testimony is silenced. And in that silence, I find myself unable to share anything meaningful in the relationship—nothing they could ever truly respect or understand.

​

I have had to grow into the painful but profound realization that, as C.S. Lewis writes, “God allows us to feel the frailty of human love so we will appreciate the strength of His.”

​

During these trials, I have envied those whose lives are not only built on "belief in God’s goodness" but filled with the "knowledge of it", as poetically illustrated by C.H. Spurgeon in his sermon on the two-fold Christian experience. I have endured many days and nights over the past several years where all I could do was pray and weep, whispering broken psalms without ceasing. I have known the nights when even words failed me—when my heart, too shattered to speak, could do nothing but trust the Holy Spirit to intercede in silence. Sometimes, in the silence...I have cursed the name of God...

​​

​​

​​​Only to find myself tenderly drawn closer to Christ.

​

This is the greatest surprise of–and beauty in–suffering.

​

​

 

 

It has taken me a lifetime to grasp the healing and transforming power of embracing my relationship with my Creator. To realize that His truth is far greater than any dream my flawed heart could conceive. That His judgment is more loving than the world’s highest praise or deepest understanding. That living for an audience of One brings more peace and purpose than the approval and understanding of friends or family.

​

Just one of His sunsets surpasses the beauty of the greatest structure man has ever built. The intricacies of our very being are more masterfully and purposefully designed than the greatest works of our greatest architects and artists—and every day, science only affirms this more. I have discovered the depth of apologetics and wondered why we were never taught these things in Sunday school. And I have come to know that a relationship with Christ truly does become more precious to behold than all the rubies in the world. No matter how much the world has betrayed you, cast you aside, scorned, mocked, or disbelieved your suffering—there is One who loves you. One who will never leave you, who longs to draw you near, to strengthen and transform you into His beloved child. He offers a strength, a purpose, and a joy beyond anything you could ever imagine–even in the depth of suffering.

 

He understands your heartache—every hidden sorrow, no matter how dark or deeply buried.

​

​

"He was despised and rejected by men, a man of sorrows, and acquainted with grief." Isaiah 53:3

​

​​​

​

There is no moment more perfect than this one to ask Christ—to ask your loving Savior—to fill you with the desire to know Him. To seek Him not as an obligation, but as the greatest joy. When you do, you will no longer live for the approval of others, nor for some distant end goal.

You will begin truly living—in Him.

So, take the first step. Begin the journey.

And when the sun rises tomorrow, open your eyes and see everything in this new light.

 

​

​

​​

​

 

In truth–I have no desire to be a martyr to this illness, and I will continue to pray, and will always welcome (more than words could ever express) the prayers of others for me on this journey. I will always work towards the goal of healing in what ways I am able. But despite all the suffering and pain, I find myself . . . grateful – for this journey has unveiled to me the greatest truths the world so often seeks to hide from our sight. Truths that stretch beyond measure—deeper than the deepest seas, brighter than the distant stars, and wondrous beyond words. 

​​

​

​

Thanks to the truths revealed through this journey, those same truths as GK Chesterton discovered when walking past the lowly form of a simple daisy, I now find that even the delicate intricacy of a single flower whispers with the resonate voice of a burning bush–Calling Me to Behold.