I sat gazing
at the Christmas tree, its blinking lights symbolic of the war within me. BLINK. I
absolutely love Christmas; it’s my favorite time of the year. BLINK.
I suffer from ulcerative colitis; it cares not about holidays. BLINK.
There’s nothing more magical and spiritual than celebrating our Savior’s
birth. BLINK. Christmas with colitis? BLINK.
O Holy night,
the stars are brightly shining
I played
Monopoly with my daughter and read books to my son. We snuggled on the couch and watched our favorite
movies together. I tried to pretend that
I didn’t know what was coming, but I had been through it too many times to deny
it. After I tucked my little loves into
bed, I let it wash over me. The disappointment,
the despair, the tears that could do nothing to thwart yet another UC flare-up.
It is the
night of our dear Savior's birth
In sixteen
years, I’ve never asked WHY ME? Not
once. Yet this Christmas I’ve never come
so close to screaming those words aloud.
At the last second, I managed instead a strangled WHY NOW?
Long lay the
world in sin and error pining
I wrapped
gifts with Christmas music playing softly in the background and clung to my
faith more tightly than ever. I counted
my blessings. I reminded myself that I
still had life, still had possibilities, even if my hope was fading. I couldn’t cure my disorder, but there were
medicines that could curb its symptoms.
Sure, the steroids might trigger the dreaded and bloated moon face,
might add pounds to my weak body, might grow hair in unwanted places and flavor
food with the taste of metal. So what? I
was alive. I was happy.
'Til He
appeared and the soul felt its worth
I’ve always
known this was my cross to bear, and for sixteen years I’ve borne it
bravely. I just never realized that I
had yet to truly accept that this cross would be a lifelong struggle, or to
realize that it might get worse as I aged, rather than better.
A thrill of
hope the weary world rejoices
Then I heard
the song drifting through my holiday-laden house, and I truly listened. Then my tears—bitter, desperate, despairing—turned
to ones of hope. He was born and died
for me. He would help carry my
burden. All I had to do was let Him.
For yonder
breaks a new and glorious morn
I am the
first one to admit I get caught up in the holiday hype. I will also throw myself the most lavish pity
party when another UC flare-up visits me.
I am selfish, flawed, and often wayward.
I always say I know the real reason for the season, but I never really
felt it in such a raw way until this year.
Fall on your
knees
My hope did
waver this year; it was a thin thread amongst my candy canes, winter boots, and mounting depression. I was angry about my health issues. I was frustrated. I was hopeless. Yes, I loved my family and counted my
blessings, but I was still lost. It wasn’t
until a simple song reached out to me, and He found me again. That was my holy night, and I hope it gives
me strength in the battle to come. No, I
know it will.
"I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me."
