Kevin was diagnosed with Systemic Rheumatoid Arthritis at age six and was told he would be in a wheelchair by age 20. Aside from affecting the joints, this rare form of RA also attacks the lungs, heart, liver, spleen and other internal organs. In “middle age” (his words, not ours [smile]) he still does not require a wheelchair and has survived 3 events that should have taken his life, including a near-death experience. In addition his arms were once covered in burning gas, yet not even the hair on his arms was singed. Through all the miracles, he credits God with the success in his life. You can read more about Kevin including many blog posts he has added to his page in the Sunroom.

Kevin began this group, in part, because writing has helped him to cope with issues in his own life. Sometimes it is just the process of taking time to sort through one’s feelings. At others, it redirects one’s own thought processes in a way that allows God to reveal something important.

Writing also provides a medium to teach others about chronic and rare diseases. The story, titled “The Conscientious Doctor,” in the Writing for Therapy group depicts how even medical professionals are underinformed about Systemic Juvenille Rheumatiod Arthritis. It also shows how family members sometimes underestimate what patients with chronic illness tell them. The poem by RSD Girl, titled “Sometimes Mommies Cry,” not only shares insight about RSD it also reveals a part of life many parents that have chronic illness must deal with.

We couldn’t be more happy about this because it also goes along with our National Invisible Chronic Illness Awareness Week theme of “Each One Can Reach One.” We love the scripture 2 Corthinthians 1:3,4:

“Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves have received from God.”

And if by chance, writing is not your thing but art is, be sure to check out Amber’s new group “Art Therapy.”

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Two Special Horses

Just up the road from my home is a field, with two horses in it.
From a distance, each horse looks like any other horse.
But if you stop your car, or are walking by, you will notice something quite amazing…
Looking into the eyes of one horse will disclose that he is blind.
His owner has chosen not to have him put down, but has made a good home for him.

This alone is amazing.

If you stand nearby and listen, you will hear the sound of a bell.
Looking around for the source of the sound, you will see that it comes from the smaller horse in the field.
Attached to the horse’s halter is a small bell.
It lets the blind friend know where the other horse is, so he can follow.

As you stand and watch these two friends,
You’ll see that the horse with the bell is always checking on the blind horse,
And that the blind horse will listen for the bell and then slowly walk
To where the other horse is,
Trusting that he will not be led astray.

When the horse with the bell returns
To the shelter of the barn each evening,
It stops occasionally and looks back,
Making sure that the blind friend isn’t too far behind to hear the bell.

Like the owners of these two horses,
God does not throw us away just because we are not perfect
Or because we have problems or challenges.

He watches over us and even brings others into our lives
To help us when we are in need.

Sometimes we are the blind horse
Being guided by the little ringing bell of those who God places in our lives.
Other times we are the guide horse, helping others to find their way….

Good friends are like that.
You may not always see them, but you know they are always there.
Please listen for my bell and I’ll listen for yours.

And remember…
Be kinder than necessary-
Everyone you meet is fighting
Some kind of battle.
Live simply,
Love generously,
Care deeply,
Speak kindly…….

And leave the rest to God!

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If you own just one Bible, you are abundantly blessed; 1/3 of the world does not have access to even one.

If you woke up this morning with more health than illness, you are more blessed than the million who will not survive the week.

If you have never experienced the danger of battle, the loneliness of imprisonment, the agony of torture or the pangs of starvation, you are ahead of 500 million people around the world.

If you attend a church meeting without fear of harassment, arrest, or torture of death, you are more blessed than almost three billion people in the world.

If you have food in your refrigerator, clothes on your back, a roof over your head and a place to sleep, you are richer than 75% of this world.

If you have money in the bank, in your wallet, and spare change in a dish some place, you are among the top 8% of the world’s wealthy.

If your parents are still married and alive, you are very rare, even in the United States.

If you hold up your head with a smile on your face and are truly thankful, you are blessed because the majority can, but most do not.

If you can hold someone’s hand, hug them, or even touch them on the shoulder, you are blessed because you can offer God’s caring touch.

If you prayed yesterday and today, you are in the minority because you believe in God’s willingness to hear and answer prayer.

If you believe in Jesus as the Son of God, you are part of a very small minority in the world.

If you can read this message, you are more blessed than over two billion people in the world that cannot read anything at all.

I have learned to be content despite my circumstances. I've also learned it is easier to be content beside a palm tree than many places.

Duncan Cross of the Patients For a Moment Blog Carnival recently asked us to answer this question “What have you learned about yourself, your illness, and other sick people?”

Well… this could be not only an entire book, but a volume of books. So where does one start?

Rather than going deeper with this question I’m going to simply answer it off the top of my head and will see what I come up with.

• I have learned that people often ask “Is it hereditary?” not out of ignorance but because there is some part of them that wishes to rule out the possibility that they could get the illness themselves.
• I have learned that people who are ill are just like everyone else. We still have dreams, we still have moments when we are grumpy, and we still desire not necessarily the “Disneylands” in life –but the ability to enjoy the simple moments that “normal people” seem to have.
• I have learned that people will disappoint us, but that doesn’t necessarily mean they don’t care. We need to offer grace and forgiveness and turn to God for our deepest emotional needs.
• I have learned that it is not fair to the people around me that I will probably always be “worse off” than them. For example, if my husband has the flu, I likely have it too and I also have a chronic illness. If he is not sleeping, I am also not sleeping and my rheumatoid arthritis is likely flaring as well. It really is not fair, but it is what it is. I must make sure I don’t use this to always “one up” everyone.
• I have learned that prednisone is an evil friend.
• I have learned that the quickest way to draw attention to yourself is to park in handicapped parking place legally, but then to get out a stroller and your baby instead of a wheelchair.
• I have learned that there are seasons in both our physical ailments and our emotional experiences in a chronic illness. Sometimes they match and sometimes they do not. Our health can have a great deal of impact on our emotional well-being, and other times we can feel God’s peace despite the absolute worst of circumstances.
• I have learned that one of the greatest gifts one can give one’s self while living with chronic illness is the ability to laugh and smile when her friends laugh with her.
• I have learned that one goes through the grief cycle over and over when living with a chronic illness. Just when one learns how to cope with losses or disabilities, new griefs occur and the cycle must be gone through again.
  I have learned that to ask for help is one of the hardest things to do; but to ask for help and then not receive it, is one of the most challenging times when we must learn to offer unconditional grace and not hold resentments.

• I have learned that it is always wise to drop a few pills “accidentally” in your pill drawer so that when you run out on Friday night you can always dig up a couple if your prescription does not have refills.
• I have learned that to live with chronic illness must certainly be easier at times then to have a spouse who lives with a chronic illness. I have great admiration and love for my husband who must see me suffer and be unable to control it.
• I have learned that children can be kind and curious when you are using a wheelchair; it’s their parents you have to worry about. I almost caused a riot trying to get on a Disneyland shuttle because the driver told me to get on first.
• I have learned that only I know exactly how many “spoons” (energy) I have at any given moment and when people say I am doing too much and should cut back it is often because I am not fulfilling the needs that they have.
• I have learned to accept my limitations and allow myself the tools, such as Kindle and Touchscreen computer, in order to continue to follow my dreams.
  I have learned that regardless of the plans I may make, God is always in control and that it is up to me to accept the fact that I will do and accomplish only that which He desires– and everything else can fall by the wayside and I need to emotionally let go of it.

• I have learned the most powerful was to be refreshed is to refresh or encourage someone else.
• I have learned that a $5 powder bronzer on your face can go a long way toward helping you look sun-kissed and not sick.
• I have learned that you can live in a state of feeling that God is good and God is in control and also being frustrated with how this life is turning out and longing for heaven.
• I have learned that allowing your child to watch television or play video games for a little while while you rest on the couch will not cause lightening to strike or children services to show up at your doorstep.
• I have learned that by having a visible disability (such as when I had my outrigger split during joint replacement recovery on my hand) can be an amazing opportunity to hear the stories of other people who are suffering, because they come up to you, a total stranger, and talk to you about their pain, because they believe you understand.
• I have learned to walk out of public restrooms without washing my hands and not worry about what people think, because I am going to use hand sanitizer outside.
• I have learned that computer voice programs have a mind of their own and that when I say something like “I will keep you in prayer” my computer sometimes types “Let’s go have a beer.” I’ve tried to learn to edit and proof, but I still miss too much!
• I have learned that life is hard, but God is good. I re-learn this every day.

What have you learned?

If you buy the CD use this link to go to Amazon and Rest Ministries will get a percentage!

I love the hymns from years past. As a child growing up in a church that sang hymns from a hymnal and not the “cool” upbeat songs, I thought our little church was behind the times. Now I have an appreciation for the beauty in the simple words. One of my favorite CDs is Alan Jackson’s Precious Memories, an album he made for his mom and then eventually released to the public.

Here is one of my favorites to share with you on this Sunday morning. Take a moment to walk outside today and hum “In the Garden” to yourself.

www.youtube.com/watch?v=yzzqhaLl_8w

If for some reason you cannot see the video you can watch it directly here.

Her days are filled with poking and prodding. Doctors and nurses keep a watchful eye over our little darling as they adjust and administer medications. Every moment her tiny heart beats is one more moment we have with her.

My days are filled with learning hospital jargon as I sit in the brightly painted rocking chair near my daughter’s NICU bed. Today, I get to hold her but only for a brief time. She’s so tiny, frail, and weak. Her six-week-old body has survived one surgery, and only God knows how many more will be required to mend her malformed heart.

The God-given talents of special surgeons will make her heart right. The second surgery will happen as soon as the doctors believe she can handle it. We call her Faith because we have Faith in God that he will restore her frail and ailing body.

The nurse lifts Faith from the crib and places her gently into my arms. A tangle of monitor wires and IV tubes extends from her little body and cascade to the floor. I’m careful how I rock, so as not to disrupt the flow of necessary fluids or the recording of any information.

I look into my baby’s sweet face and I think of how everyone looks to me as a hero. They see me as a tireless woman who has sacrificed selflessly to spend every moment possible at my baby’s beside or in the NICU waiting room. When I greet visitors, I most often do so with a smile. I do this not only to hide my tears, but because I’m glad someone has taken the time to minister to meas well as Faith. Also, it’s great to see a friendly face so far from home.

Living here is difficult. We traded our nice, comfortable home for a cramped travel trailer in the back lot of the hospital, and we are the lucky ones. Many families with babies here have no choice but to live in the waiting room because they can’t afford a motel.

When friends do visit, it’s sometimes hard to swallow the constant lump that sits in my throat, especially when I get those pitiful looks from them. And if I hear another, ‘God is in this,’ or ‘He’ll bring you through,’ I’m liable to scream. I know He’s in this and He’ll sustain us. I just wish He would have found another way to make His point than giving my baby a malformed heart.

No, I’m not a hero. I’m just a mother trying to survive, knowing there is nothing I can do for my sick baby. The real hero here is Faith. She’s the one who doesn’t give up. She’s the one who takes the breaths necessary to stay with us another minute, another hour, another day. I kiss her tiny head and stroke her precious cheek.

Two of the smallest, darkest eyes I’ve ever seen open and stare at me. A distorted smile forms around the tubes taped to her face. From under her blanket, a fist appears and flexes open. I place my finger inside and she clamps her fingers shut around it.

Yes, Faith is the real hero.
Rhonda Clark is a stay at home mom of two and a freelance writer. She and her family makes their home in Bartlett, TN. For more information about her writing visit: http://www.freewebs.com/rhondaclark or contact her through http://www.faithwriters.com

(c) 2007, Rhonda Clark, Article Source: http://www.faithwriters.com

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