Sometimes, all you can do is clutch your rosary and pray, tears dripping down your face, hoping that He will grant your wish, to lift the cross that is crushing you, or to take you to your final rest.
My migraines have been excruciating these past few weeks, lasting several days at a time. I don't like to complain too much because there is the fear that if speak often of it, I will be defined by my disease.
Also, I had received partial healing a couple of years ago, so it makes me feel like an ingrate to say, why not all the way? I have argued and wrestled with God, and have no answers. And sometimes I cannot even feel His comforting presence. Where is the God of all comfort when He knows how much my children need me? He is my heavenly Father, and I need Him too. Where are YOU? I have asked several friends to pray for me, to lift me up to Him. And I ask you to keep my family and me in your prayers. I'll be much obliged. It is very hard on them with me being chronically ill, my patience nil, my crankiness at an all-time high. And my prideful nature hates to appear so horribly weak and weepy to them.
Today, my husband took the children out, did the shopping, made killer barbecued ribs. All he wanted to do was to stay home, but I begged him to take us to confession and Mass. The poor man took us all. I asked the priest for the Sacrament of Healing. By the way, confession is the other Sacrament of Healing because it mends our soul, and the rift that is created by our sins. What's amazing is that through frequent confession, I have received the grace to stop some sins altogether. I couldn't have done this by myself. I used to think how silly that I have to confess the same stupid sins over and over, but the sacrament works! It's a balm. I fall many, many times, but He is there to offer His Hand. We only need reach up and He plucks us out of the depths of depravity to give us new life.
I wept through the Mass. But take a look at the readings! They were written for me ... I'm the withered tree He makes bloom; I will bear fruit in old age; I need to be courageous even though I long to leave this body and go home to the Lord; He makes my faith grow like that of a mustard seed. Thanks be to God!
After Mass, I went to receive the Sacrament of Healing. The priest anointed me and laid his holy hands upon my head and prayed over me. It always strikes me to hear the words of Jesus to the paralytic: rise up and walk, your sins are forgiven. I prayed for healing, but also to do His will. I do love Jesus and want to do eveything for His glory. I don't want to be a wimp. I want to be able to unite my suffering to His, to offer it for a greater good, and to trust His inscrutable ways.
Amazingly, I was able to help fix supper, and I enjoyed eating with my family. I have not experienced this joy since this migraine re-started. I am again thinking about doing projects with the children, writing, and teaching.
Tomorrow is the Lord's Day, and Father's Day, and I want to pamper my husband ... even if I can only manage a bowl of cereal with strawberries. He is such a good husband and father, I want to be the best wife to him. Here he is, my love.