What You Don't See

When you look at this picture, you see two people standing on the top of a mountain overlooking with a beautiful view of lakes down below. You may notice that I am wearing gloves. If you look even closer, you might notice crutches between my husband and I, resting on the rock.

What you don't see is the amount of pain and exhaustion I'm feeling while standing there, even after rest, water, and a healthy snack. You don't see the extreme struggle I went through to get to the top of the mountain, nor the number of times I wanted to give up, sure I'd never make it to the top. You don't see the pain in my knees, which I was told to get replaced twenty years ago; the agonizing spasming of my back due to damage already done by psoriatic arthritis and spondylitis; the suffocating ache in my chest from costochondritis; or the  deep, deep emotions of this accomplishment. You don't see the amount of medication coursing through my veins that made this possible, nor the days of recuperation required afterward.

There are many people living with "invisible illnesses." I am one of them. Most people who see me walking without assistance or see photos of me standing at the top of mountains assume I'm able bodied. Not even those closest to me can really fathom the amount of pain I experience and exhaustion I face on a good day, nevermind a bad day. I have become expert at acting as if I'm not in pain. I can put a smile on my face and keep on moving through it most days. 

What you don't see is the gratitude my illnesses that brought into my life, and how much my life has improved in many ways, even as I've become increasingly ill. I am thankful for each step I take; for my crutches and wheelchair that allow me more freedom than my own two legs do; for slowing down; for finding things I can do that feed my soul and energize me; and for the ability to let go of things that don't serve me and my family well; for pain and exhaustion that point my life in the right direction...toward the alive-and-present God who guides my steps and dwells within me.