I have a friend who is having a fun Saturday morning get together right now. 10 AM. A morning with the gals. A “retiring from 9-5″ party for someone starting her own business.

I should be there.

Rheumatoid arthritis keeps getting in the way. Everything within me is sitting beneath the surface, ready to erupt grief, frustration, anger, sorrow.

My husband has been snoring for years, worse all the time. Gasping for breath. He finally fills out the paperwork for a sleep study. A rep drops off the gadget he should wear at night. “I will be back tomorrow morning to pick it up,” he says. But that night I tell my husband it’s not a good night. My neck is flaring up. I can’t sleep on the couch. I can’t stay awake all night. I can’t not tell my husband to “Roll over!” He literally needs the bed. I want these results to be accurate.

The next morning I text the rep. “Can we keep it until Monday?” “Yes,” he texts back. “But have him do it 2 nights.” Two nights? Well, we’ll see.

Friday night. My husband gets the gadget all ready. He says, “I’m sorry.” He sleeps. He snores.

I read . . . and read.

Finally I move to the couch and prop myself up. 1 AM. . . 2 AM . . . I can hear him gasping for breath from the other room–which is good. The machine is recording it.

I can’t lay down on the couch to sleep. I try. It’s going to destroy my shoulders. So I do a puzzle on my ipad.
3 AM. 3:15. . . 3:30. I finally go to the bed. I lay there as he snores. I want to slug him. I love him, but I still want to slug him.

3:40 “Honey, I am sorry but I have to sleep. Can you go to the couch?” He gets up and leaves with a pillow. He is immediately asleep, snoring. I lay there. 4 AM, 4:15. I ache everywhere. Finally I drift off. . . I hear my son. My husband had gotten up to get him something and come back to the bed. “What time is it?” I ask. “7:45.”

7:45. And I can’t even lift my arm to scratch an itch on my head. Can I do it? Can I go? I think to myself. Oh, Lord, I really want to go. It will be so. . . fun! I just want to have fun! If I sleep till 8, shower, leave by 9ish to be there at 10? Can I drive? The shower alone will exhaust me. What can I wear that would look nice? Everything I have is for the 15-pound less me. I can’t deal. . . I go back to a half-sleep–grieving that I have to make a decision. And yet, if I face reality, the decision has already been made.

8:10. Last week I got up. By 10 AM I was at my son’s karate graduation. I just wanted to do something for me! I cry out internally. God, why do the things I want to do for me never seem to work?

I had no choice about last night. The rep said two nights. I have to sleep Sunday night. I have to be at the infusion center Monday morning at 8:30 AM. I have to sleep Sunday night.

I have to prioritize the things I do. But why does my illness always have to be the first priority? I have to get the infusion. It has to be 2 weeks after the previous one. My husband has taken the day off work because I have to have someone else drive me. The insurance has paid out $12,000 for it. Other options didn’t exist. I have to be there.

My life is a series of “have to.” I have to sleep, or at least commit to trying to sleep. I have to get my medication. I have to. What about me? What about my joy? Don’t I have to embrace joy? Should not I only be compelled to have joy, but insist on it?

I am sad. So sad. I email my friend at 8:30 to tell her I can’t come. Last night I was nearly throwing up from a medicine reaction again and yet I was at a store trying to find a little gift. All pointless. Why does God allow my illness to eclipse the joy I grasp for?

I hardly have any friends. Truly. People would think I am kidding, but I somehow missed out on connecting with other women in my thirties. I was busy with ministry. . .and survival. And now, at 43, I am trying to start over. Turn women I know and admire into actual friends. They get together frequently. I keep missing them. Book release parties, girl’s night out, birthday parties. . . How does one deepen the relationships when she is too sick to participate in lunches and get togethers?

My son is demanding this morning. I explain to him mommy is moody because I didn’t get to go to my friend’s party. My husband gets up. He says he will take Joshua to karate. He even says he will take him to Legoland later for the “Brick-or-treat” event. He doesn’t remember I had plans. He doesn’t know I am grieving. I am too sore to go back to bed. Too sad to do anything else.

And I am lonely, because no one knows I am grieving. No one realizes mommy had something today that she was really looking forward to. That she sacrificed. That she was forced to surrender. That she is sick of being sick. That the tears are right under the surface waiting to break through.

The guys get ready to leave. My husband says goodbye at the door. “I really . . . I’m really disappointed I didn’t get to go this morning,” I blurt out. For some reason I need him to know I am sad.

“Oh, that’s right!” he says coming back in. “Did you just not feel you slept enough?”

“I didn’t sleep, my body is flaring, I couldn’t drive,” I say, the tears form on my lashes. What I want to say is, “I gave up my joy so you could do your sleep test. Every time I have plans something gets in the way!”

But he gives up plenty for me. . . all the time. And I don’t always even know. And I was the one who insisted he do the sleep test. Long term, it could help us both sleep better. And even if he hadn’t been doing it my body still could have easily turned against me like it has done thousands of mornings in these 18 years of disease.

“What time did it start?” he asks, likely wondering if there was any way he could take me.

“A half hour ago.”

I see his expression of Oh. “You aren’t mad at me are you?” he asks.

“No, you had to do that last night. I have to sleep Sunday night, there weren’t enough nights.”

“I’m sorry,” he says and kisses me goodbye.

The tears come, my son is waiting and watching. My husband knows I need a hug. He hesitates.

“Go,” I say, “Just go, I’m fine, go. . .”

“I love you,” he says. My son has to get to class. He goes.

And I write.

I can write. Or I can cry. . .

Actually, I can write while I cry. Feel it, release it, surrender it. Sometimes I deplore the emotions the illness brings to light. Pity, dependency, neediness, validation. I don’t want to need these things.

I have to choose whether this sadness will suffocate me or simply be a pale blemish on life.

Joy must come through the passageway of grief, but I will not be engulfed by it, even if my disease tries to botch my plans. I will find joy. Somehow. Somewhere.

I will choose defiant joy.

Lisa Copen is the founder of Rest Ministries and she lives in San Diego with her husband and son. She is gradually learning how to balance motherhood, family, illness, and ministry, but she still knows it will be a lifetime lesson. You can see the books she has written, including, Why Can’t I Make People Understand? at the Rest Ministries shop.

“The words of the reckless pierce like swords, but the tongue of the wise brings healing.” -Proverbs 12:18

Yesterday I had a great conversation with a health and fitness coach with whom I recently started working. Not only did she give me some great ideas to work toward my personal goals, but I also found myself leaving the conversation with a lot more hope than I’ve felt in a long time. It’s interesting I should be so hopeful because I’m really having a tough time physically right now. And we also spent a fair amount of time discussing my past history of chronic illness, a topic that usually drains me and makes me sad.

Instead, she was able to focus on the accomplishments I’ve made in the past two years toward a healthier me.

I later realized my coach did a simple yet powerful thing: she used her words to bring healing–healing to my spirit and even to my body. After we spoke I was more inspired to remain on the path of a healthy lifestyle, and I was so energized by hope that I went ahead and started my new exercise program that I’ve been putting off for months because I didn’t feel well enough to try. Which, in turn, inspired me to eat healthy and work out again today. And maybe I’m imagining things, but my current flaring health symptoms seem to be better too.

Recently I’ve had a lot of reckless words spoken into my life and my health situation. Well-meaning family members, friends, and doctors have said things that to some degree, robbed me of hope, faith, and joy. It’s been a fierce battle in my heart to fight off the constant barrage of negativity their words created. What a contrast with my experience yesterday!

This is a great lesson for all of us. Before we share that “helpful” idea or something “the Lord laid on our heart” that our loved one “needs” to hear, let’s ask ourselves if we are planting seeds of hope and healing or if we are truly piercing them with the sword of our reckless words.

“Set a guard over my mouth, O Lord; keep watch over the door of my lips.” (Psalm 141:3)

About the Author: Deanna Nichols is a woman of faith searching for purpose in the midst of a lifetime of physical illness and pain. She has been diagnosed with narcolepsy with cataplexy, polycystic ovarian disease, Hashimoto’s thyroid disease, and many others. Her chronic illnesses make it impossible for her to work or even drive, so she is mostly home-bound. She is on the Board of Directors for her family’s commercial lawn maintenance business, is an avid reader and book reviewer, and uses social networking to encourage people with chronic illness, educate those without illness, as well as to share what she’s learned regarding natural health. She lives in Northeast Florida with her husband of 12 years and their 5 furry children. Read Deanna’s blog A Fragile Faith.

“There is a time for everything. . . a time to weep and a time to laugh, a time to mourn and a time to dance.” (Ecclesiastes 3:1a, 4)

My sweet mama was one of the funniest people I’ve ever known. Her battle with rheumatoid arthritis began suddenly at the young age of thirty, when I was just four years old. I don’t remember a time in my life when she was without pain.

Within just a few years of diagnosis, she began to have surgeries. First, to replace her right hip, then her left knee, then her toes. She knew what it meant to suffer physically. Yet, one of the things I most admired about my mom was her determination to thrive, to be happy in spite of her circumstances, her determination to truly live.

Tim Hansel wrote one of her favorite books, published in 1985.  “You Gotta Keep Dancin’” became her motto, and she began purchasing the book of the same name for anyone she knew who might be struggling physically. She loved the subtitle: “In the midst of life’s hurts, you can choose joy!”

Now, mom didn’t actually know how to dance, but she certainly chose to love the Lord with all her heart, to love life, and she certainly chose to live it joyfully. She got a pretty big kick out of herself. I guess that was how she coped.

Long after my excruciating decision to leave home and start a life of my own, I’d receive daily phone calls. “You are not going to believe what your brilliant mother has done this time,” she’d declare in her most serious, sarcastic voice. Then she’d go on to elaborate upon whatever silliness she’d gotten herself into that day.

How in the world could someone so racked with pain learn to live life with such joy. . . with such laughter?

Let’s be honest, life is tough. Few people know it better than those of us who suffer with chronic illness. Without even realizing it, the seriousness of life can so take hold of our hearts and minds that we forget what it feels like to experience gut-wrenching laughter–whether at ourselves, or something else that would have previously left us in stitches.

When was the last time you allowed yourself to experience that kind of laughter?

Did you know that it’s even physically beneficial to laugh? Studies show that laughter boosts the immune system, gives the body increased energy, releases endorphins in the brain (those natural “feel-good” chemicals which actually help to relieve pain), and improves blood flow through the veins. This, in turn, protects the heart. The best thing about it is laughter is absolutely 100% free of charge–ours for the taking. So, what’s stopping us?

God gives us lots of reasons to laugh with joy

Our Great Physician allowed much to be said in scripture about the subject of a happy heart:

• Proverbs 15:13 “A happy heart makes the face cheerful, but heartache crushes the spirit.”
• Proverbs 15:15 “All the days of the oppressed are wretched, but the cheerful heart has a continual feast.”
• Proverbs 17:22 “A cheerful heart is good medicine, but a crushed spirit dries up the bones.”
• Galatians 5:22-23 “But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, forbearance, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control. Against such things there is no law.”
• Philippians 4:8 “Finally, brothers and sisters, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable-if anything is excellent or praiseworthy-think about such things.”

Jesus wants us to have a joyful heart, my friend, and nothing quite boosts the spirit like laughter. Regardless of our circumstances in life, it’s possible to find something worthy of praise.

You have a song to sing, whatever your circumstances

Author and storyteller Joan Walsh Anglund (A Cup of Sun, 1967) put it so beautifully:

“A bird doesn’t sing because he has an answer. He sings because he has a song.”

Sweet one, if you have accepted Jesus Christ as your personal Savior, you possess within you the most precious treasure the world has ever known. You have a song to sing!

That song will manifest itself in our lives in all sorts of ways-and for the Christian, a joyful heart ought to be at the top of the list. Let us not get so wrapped up in our circumstances that we forget what it’s like to laugh and enjoy life. It’s contagious, after all.

Like my mom, we often need to look no further than our own lives for a little inspiration. “Blessed is he who has learned to laugh at himself, for he shall never cease to be entertained.” -John Powell

Tami Nantz lives with celiac disease. You can find her at Life Outside The Breadbox, a site she recently started to help others who are struggling with this disease learn to live the gluten-free lifestyle in a gluten-filled world.

“LemonAid Crutches”(TM) is the first company to create lovely designer crutches in rich, vivid colors and gorgeous, expressive fabrics. Being on crutches can be a sad, depressing experience, but this store makes it a bit more enjoyable and a whole lot more cheerful.

On the LemonAid Crutches (TM) web site it shares, “No one wants to be on crutches. They hurt your hands, they hurt your arms and they certainly hurt your sense of style.

Many have tried to tackle the challenge of adding comfort to an uncomfortable item, but duct tape and washcloths look…well…tacky. That’s why we created designer crutch-wear that’s not only comfortable, but fun and fabulous looking.”

Founder Laurie Johnson’s personal testimony to this fact makes one realize that a little bit of encouragement can go a long way in the face of a major crisis. In August of 2002, Laurie was in a small plain crash that took the lives of her husband and small son. Laurie survived, but she found herself with broken legs and was confined to using crutches.

After the first year on crutches, Laurie and her sister decided that a little cheering-up was in order, and they began by painting Laurie’s crutches a bright color! By her second year on crutches, Laurie had mastered her technique of covering the crutches’ pads with vivid colored materials and thus the beginning of “LemonAid Crutches (TM)” was born.

One cannot imagine the devastation another one goes through when losing family members in tragic circumstances. Laurie says that she had much support to help her pick up the pieces of her life even when her life was absolutely shattered beyond repair!

Though living in devastation, Laurie started a “non-profit” foundation called “Step with Hope.” This foundation offers assistance to others who are coping with profound loss in their lives.

What a wonderful place to go to discover that something as “sad” as being on crutches for a prolong period of time can actually be turned into a fashion-statement. Why not check this place out if you know someone on crutches?

A little encouragement and cheering up can go a long way in helping someone recover from pain. And . . . if you personally are one of those who have to endure crutches for awhile, perhaps this is the web-site for you. You might find your ideal look and sense of style, making your crutches fashionable and not nearly as depressing while supporting a fantastic cause in the process.

Have you ever decorated, embellished, or painted an assistive device? Tell us about it in the comments section! How does it make you feel? What is the response of others who see it?

Debbi Farmer is a part-time writer and small business owner who loves to find wonderful sites that encourage the broken-heart. She shares, “My heart goes out to those who are suffering from profound loss such as Laurie went through. I cannot even imagine that kind of pain, but I realize even through the familiar pain of illness, the Lord is so good and I have so much to Thank Him for!”

I recently had the blessed experience of chatting briefly with book author Cindy Tuttle, who has written “Joining in the Dance of Life” and recently released “Finding the Light of Jesus” both available at Amazon.com and Barnes and Noble.

I feel privileged to share this interview with you about her new book.

Cindy, please tell us a little about yourself and what inspired you to write “Finding the Light of Jesus.”

Thank you, Debbi, for letting me share “The Light of Jesus” with you. I have been honored to have worked with people with severe mental illness for over twenty-five years. I’ve also worked with adults and children who were profoundly retarded and people who are elderly living in long term care hospitals. They taught me so much about how to live our faith.

As a child I was sexually abused and almost killed by two teenagers. Because of that and other abuse I went through some very rough times. Getting counseling and my faith brought me through and I am SO grateful!!

I have been involved in many ministries in my church including lecturer, choir, home visits, prayer leader, religious education, Eucharistic minister, etc. I completed four years of lay ministry classes.

I have been fortunate to have been published in thirteen periodicals and have a book recently published called Finding the Light of Jesus by Crosslink Publishing.

As I mentioned I am so grateful for what Jesus has done for me.

I would be constantly yearning for love from others. That is why I wrote Finding the Light of Jesus. To share what I have been given with people who might be hurting and/or want to grow in Christian faith.

What is the key message in your book that you would like your readers to grasp?

The key message is – no matter how we feel or what situation we are in, Jesus calls us to be His beloved child. Once we experience this love we then have a strong desire to live the love we have been given.

Has your background in human services, as well as your lay-work in Spiritual retreats influenced your thoughts in your writing? If so can you share a little with us “How you feel this to be the case and why”?

They have had a strong influence in my writing. The spiritual wisdom I have learned from people with severe disabilities is incredible. They have taught me what is really important. What we need is not necessarily what we want. What culture says is important at times is not the truth. When people have severe pain as the people have in your ministry, they find the true gifts that give life and love.

In facilitating my spiritual retreats one person was at the beginning stages of dementia yet the care and respect given her by the other people at the retreat and the spiritual wisdom she shared I will never forget. She seemed so grateful that she was being heard and the love given her. Her smile during the retreat still warms my heart every time I think of it. She wasn’t seen as a patient but as our brother and sister in Christ. What a wonderful day that was! Experiences like this helps shape my writing.

What made you chose the title: “Finding the Light of Jesus”?

I chose the title because the light of Jesus is everywhere and sometimes we may forget how close His light is. To me His light is compassion, strength, faith, and the eternal light of our soul. Experiencing or finding that light is joy beyond words. I never tire of hearing people tell of these experiences. In fact that might be my next book.

Finally to round up, Can you let our readers know “why” you feel they should purchase your book and what they might expect to gain as a result?

We all feel lonely at times and have challenges in our faith and trying to live out our faith. Finding the Light of Jesus offers a variety of ways to help us in our faith. The prayers settle our hearts and souls so we are open to read the reflections in a prayerful mindset. I give suggestions on how we can live our faith and also provide pages for journalism. I have prayers towards the middle of the book for times when we are lonely.

I also have a part called “Conversations With Jesus.” I provide a dialog of some of the feelings we have and how Jesus might respond. If you want a book that includes spiritual reflections, prayers that touch the soul, clear suggestions for living our faith, and a book that is ideal for prayer groups, support groups, churches, religious education, and Christian social service programs, this is the book for you!You can find the link on www.cindytuttletheauthor.com. If you are a group leader this is a very helpful book for a lesson plan and reflection questions and prayers that will generate a prayerful environment and spiritual insight.

To discover more about this Cindy and her new book please visit her web-site and click here to view the promo from her book: “Joining in the Dance of Life”

Debbi Farmer is a retired homeschool teaching mom, who presently has opened her fun-dream “small business” even while facing many health challenges in her life. Debbi has worked many years with Rest Ministries in both the “Beyond Surviving Homeschool” forums as well as writing devotionals for the “Chronic Illness” forum. She has had many short stories, devotionals, as well as poems and gospel songs published over the years, and is now presently enjoying life with her husband of almost 30 years, walking where the Lord leads us.

By Carol Gray

I have hated nursing homes ever since I toured one as a girl scout in 1978. It was difficult being an eight-year-old girl walking the hallways, passing rooms of the dying. I wondered, did I actually sign up for this? Did I really bring home a permission slip for this field trip? What was the sales-pitch by the scout master, oh yeah, I would get a patch…those darn patches!

The “Service and Citizenship” patch would be the reward for entertaining the elderly for the day. I remember thinking that most of them did not look at us with sentiment, only desperation; as if they wanted us to help them escape the inevitable.

How depressing.

I took that patch and hid it away in my drawer hoping to forget about the entire experience.

In 2008, some 30 years later, I had to step back into a nursing home for the first time since that terrifying event. My grandmother-in-law was dying. Realizing I may never get to say one last goodbye, I had to enter this place.

I sat in the parking lot breathing deeply with flashes of those Girl Scout memories. It is funny what memories do to the brain because I swear the smell came back to me before I even opened the door to the building.

When my hand reached onto the corroded brass door handle, a miraculous feeling came over me. I had a sense of power. It was as if the anxiety seeped out of me and onto the welcome mat.

I knew this was God, but why?

As I strolled down the hallways, those same hallways showing the dying in just about each room, I felt love. As I saw a man with one leg in a wheel chair in the hallway scooting down the hall with that leg, I felt love.

As I heard a woman screaming because she was in too much pain to move just a centimeter on her side in order to get her shot, I felt love. Not fear, not anxiety and definitely not thinking about getting a patch. I knew this was God. . . again I thought, why?

I found grandma. She looked emaciated and tired. Cancer was devouring her, yet she was aware of who I was. I sat down by her side, held her hand, massaging her paper thin skin. With the power that came over me at the front door of the nursing home, I blurted out to her “Have you accepted Jesus Christ as your personal Lord and Savior?”

Now I know why. God’s power is such a beautiful thing.

To my surprise she replied, “I can’t, I can’t. . . I have done too many bad things in my life.”

I told her God knows everything you have done, yet He loves you anyway.

I asked again, “Will you accept Jesus Christ as your personal Lord and Savior?”

She said YES, vigorously!

We then prayed together.

I left there with an enormous amount of peace, never wanting to forget this experience. I plan to volunteer my time at nursing homes now.

Only God can take away fears and anxieties turning them into triumph. Wow, what a patch my Scout Master has given me. Except it is not hidden away in some drawer, it is embroidered on my heart.

Grandma died the next day, no doubt hanging out with her personal Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. Amen!

Carol Gray resides in Fishers Indiana, a suburb of Indianapolis. She is a recent graduate of Indiana Wesleyan University where she went back to get her degree, 20 years after entering the work force.  Carol loves to write, is an avid blogger, and is currently working on a Christian children’s book with her 12-year old son.