CFS’ers Don’t Run…or Dance

Blah…bleh…well here I am. I don’t wanna be typin’ but I’m making myself as I know that it will help. Something in me says, don’t do that. Wallow! You like to wallow! Some days, yes, wallowing is better than hiking up those boot straps (*that’s what my dad always said—I don’t know what straps he’s talkin’ about—none of mine have straps) and moving on. My pain is back. Every pain x 10 at times is back. I don’t know if the devil can read, but if he can, well so be it. I’m down, not out, but down. Everything on me hurts. It began in my left leg with swelling and now the spasms, pins, needles, stabs have moved on to other parts of my unsuspecting body. Out of nowhere I’m liable to jump, as if shocked by an electrical current. This has stomped on (and bounced) on my plans to run in a 5K in October. I haven’t given up on that—I WILL be in it. The pain now only makes the finish line even better. It will be that much more of an accomplishment. God will be dancing with me after that race. What a great image—God Himself not only happy for lil’ ol’ me, but happy enough to bop around. That image alone is enough to bring me to tears. And to keep me going. I wonder if that’s why I’m typing right now. I’ve asked God for signs, signs of His favor, signs I’m goin’ in the right direction, and signs He hasn’t forgotten about His promise to heal me. There are some days when I think, “Weeeeellllll, I wasn’t actually there, in the church, when my mother in law said she heard from God Himself….” But on those days I scold myself because that’s a dreadful way to live. That’s a horrible life to lead if you go around thinking like that. Where would we be if everyone had to have so much proof? I’m gonna hang on, with tear-filled eyes, tired muscles, and an exhausted mind, waiting on my dance with my Creator.