Morning Has Broken
Just in time for Easter
This Lent was for Healing
If you’ve been following my story, you may know that I’ve had two surgeries since November 4th to treat endometriosis and adenomyosis. I wrote about my oh-so-very long journey to diagnosis and my first surgery here:
The second part of my story involved coming to terms with the finality of the second surgery I needed in order to live without constant pain:
I am now on the other side of both procedures. Because of the timing of my second surgery, I knew that I would spend pretty much all of Lent in healing mode. One of my Lenten commitments was to give myself the time and the space and the grace to heal, and to be patient with myself through the process.
Despite my best mental preparations, as a person who has historically tied my perception of my worth to my productivity, these things all proved a challenge, as I knew they would. Of course, I know I have been doing important work supporting my healing, but that healing were largely internal. It couldn’t be seen. It required me to stretch and build strength in some new invisible muscles, ones that trust that I have immense value no matter what.
One thing that kept me going before the surgery and in the weeks that followed was the hope that I would feel well by Easter. I envisioned Easter morning, getting the family all dressed up, and going to Mass with a smile on my face because I was no longer hurting.
The Coming Alleluia
As we arrive at the start of the Triduum, I can gratefully say that I am doing so very well. Recovery hasn’t been linear, and I had to navigate the uncertainty of the “I no longer have disease inside me” and the “but I’m recovering from major abdominal surgery” coexisting at the same time. I didn’t always do a good job trusting the process. Any new ache or soreness set my anxiety off, and I would worry that that new discomfort would stay with me forever like my endo and adeno pain did before treatment.
I’ve tried to be gracious with myself because the pain I felt before surgery was constant and traumatic, so of course it’s going to take my heart and my mind some time to trust this new normal.
Things like being consistently comfortable in my body, having energy to stand in the evening, not doubling over multple times a day because pain was surging through me, are all exciting. I have more room for things in my mind because my brain no longer needs to use up so much energy to cope. My energy is coming back. I had pretty agressive endo, so there is a risk of recurrence, though it is very small. My plan is to live in this new wonderful normal and trust God that things will be okay.
No doubt about it, this has been a long, challenging season. The past several years of chronic pain have felt like a never ending Lent for me. I’ve thought and said as much many times.
So the fact that my return to health is lining right up with Easter feels a bit like God giving me an extra boost of light after a very long stretch of night. A nod and a wink that He has been there the whole time, and that He is as joyful as I am about better days ahead.
The Alleluia is coming.
Changed for Good
Many, including me, might say that having these diseases was unequivocally bad. And in a lot of very real ways, it was. The physical and mental load of that much pain for that long was, at times, almost too much to bear. But to speak for a moment from the part of me that will always be a musical theatre nerd, having these diseases and going through what it took to heal has also changed me, in the words of Elphaba and Glinda, for good. It’s a sliver of that lovely both/and that we Catholics love so much. Yes it was bad that I was sick. And yes it was also good because I am different now. I needed to heal from things and change habits. It was all part of the necessary sanctification process that I’m going to go through either now or later.
I won’t ever know exactly what caused the endo and adeno inside me, but I now understand that there are several things known to contribute to them, like unhealed trauma, poor nutrition, exercise choices, and chemical load can all impact these diseases. I am making permanent changes in my life to address these things to give myself not only my best chance at long-term health, but to take care of myself in a way I never have before. For such a long time I thought I had to earn rest and changing that mindset alone has been so helpful.
A Reminder of Conversion
This litany of permanent, impactful changes call to mind another moment in my life when everything changed for good, and that moment was my conversion to the Catholic faith. Most people probably get a handful of those forks in the road of life that we can’t or won’t come back from. Moments that become big parts of our life’s story, for good or for bad. My conversion was one of those enormous For Good forks.
During Holy Week each year, my mind goes back to my preparations for Confirmation. I was blessed to be Confirmed at the stunning St. Paul Cathedral in Minnesota, with many family members in attendance. My conversion experience had felt, for a long time, like I was swimming against a strong current. Leaving the Evangelical church cost us. We lost our social circle, our community, in the blink of an eye. My arms and my heart were tired. But Holy Week 2016 felt like I had been caught up in a different kind of current. A current strong enough to keep me afloat and carry me to the place I had always been meant to land.
I was going home.
Holy Week 2016 felt like I had been caught up in a current strong enough to keep me afloat and carry me to the place I had always been meant to land.
So many seasons start out hard or sad, but end up being the source of unexpected beauty in our lives. To quote Eponine in Les Miserables: “Rain will make the flowers grow.” It’s so easy to say but so difficult to remember in the moment. My hope is that as I continue on in life, that I increase in the grace to endure the rainy times, and in the trust that the sun will shine again. My conversion was painful, but it has been the source of so much beauty for me and my family. My diseases were painful, but they were the catalyst for so much deep, much-needed healing.
We just finished reading The Lion, The Witch, and the Wardrobe out loud to the kids. Aslan slain on the stone table is tragic, but it is only a matter of time before he once again roars and shakes his great mane and defeats the White Witch.
The crucifixion and the tomb feel so much like defeat. But they are the doorway to victory for us all brought on by One who loves us more than we can comprehend.
May your Triduum and Easter be blessed with the peace and joy that only Christ can bring.
And amidst the sadness of the next few days, let us remember to hold to hope and sit tight for a little bit longer- Morning will break, and Alleluia is on the way!
-L
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Playlist!
In the weeks leading up to my surgery, I curated a playlist filled with songs that made me feel hopeful. I usually have it play on shuffle. It lasted the exact amount of time it took us to drive from Chicago to Fort Wayne. Hope you enjoy it!
What I’m Reading
Devotions by Mary Oliver. I am *trying* to read a poem each day. I’ve stumbled across some over the years, and they have always stuck with me in the best of ways. I thought it would be a lovely practice to immerse myself a bit more intentionally in poetry on the whole, and I’m starting with Mary Oliver. It’s a great compilation with selected works written throughout her prolific years.
Brideshead Revisited. I love reading classics, and this was one I hadn’t yet gotten to. I come more from the Austin/Bronte side of British literature, and so for some reason I didn’t expect Bridesyead Revisited to be what it is. I’m only halfway through, and while I’m not yet personally in love with the story, I can see why Catholics are drawn to it.
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In Case You Want to Learn More About My Conversion:
My episode of The Journey Home is free to watch on YouTube.
Beautiful ❤