It started with a bit of a raw throat. I actually smiled when I felt it. I had just come from a visit with family, and they had been sick with colds. The dull sore throat was nothing more than a reminder of the fun I had. Plus, I now had an excuse to nestle in and rest for a while.
The next day brought pain in every joint. Even my fingers and toes ached. My smile dulled a bit as I snuggled under a blanket in my nightgown.
By the third day my ears felt swollen shut. My chest was congested and my face hurt. My smile was gone, replaced by a glassy stare and a few moans.
On the fourth day my stomach decided to join the party. The first half of the day I lay perfectly still with a sour stomach. The last half of the day (and night) was spent making countless trips to the bathroom. This wasn’t funny anymore.
I was miserable.
I’ve learned after years of walking (or crawling) through valleys that the one benefit from dark times is the closeness I feel to God and the empathy I gain from suffering. I believe that no one can have true empathy unless they’ve gone through the swamps and dark places themselves.
“I consider that our present sufferings are not comparable to the glory that will be revealed in us.” Romans 8:18
So, in between bathroom trips, I searched for empathy. I thought of cancer patients and the awful treatments and side effects they go through. I thought of hospice patients who have no hope of an end to their suffering in this life.
This new empathy did not make me feel better; in fact, it made me feel worse. Sorrow for others only added to the misery I felt for myself. Empathy is like that. Its purpose is not to make us feel better, but to make us capable of understanding the pain of others.
“Let each of you look not only to his own interests, but also to the interests of others.“ Philippians 2:4
In my misery, did I also jump to the conclusion that God had forgotten about me and that He was ignoring my prayers for an end to my sickness? Yes. Yes, I did. I came to all sorts of weird conclusions. There were promises made, foods I was never going to eat again, and deals offered, but I still felt awful.
As I lay in bed feeling very sorry for myself, it dawned on me that sin works the same way this flu had.
At the beginning, we naively let a little bit of sin in. It is hardly noticeable, and we can easily make excuses for it. As time goes on, the sin takes over a bit more, but we are used to its presence and accept it as part of life. And as the sin takes over more and more, we become completely miserable and are unable to battle it alone any longer.
In our weakness, we finally turn to God.
I had lots of time to ponder this while I lay in bed. I thought back to how innocently the flu started and how fast it grew inside of me until it completely took over my body and my life. And I thought about how vast it became until I had no strength left to battle against it. Sin is like that too, isn’t it?
As God healed me, tiny bit by tiny bit, I began to appreciate the lessons I had learned and the empathy I had gained. I allowed myself to feel the beauty of God’s presence during the dark times. And I rejoiced in the knowledge that no illness (or sin) is too big for Him.
I have found that the learning I do in the dark places tends to stick with me the longest.
I would not willingly choose to go through the flu I had again, but looking back I can appreciate the lessons it taught me:
God is with me ALL the time, even when things aren’t going my way.
Empathy is a beautiful thing and worth suffering for.
The valleys in life provide communion with God like nothing else.
I can pray anywhere, even on the bathroom floor.
Sometimes illness provides a pause button and allows me to grow in faith.
Rejoicing is so much purer after a dark time.
I have to admit that there were a few moments in my misery that I wondered, “Why me?” But I have learned to find the wisdom, and yes even the beauty, in the learning that comes from the valleys.
“Call to me and I will answer you and tell you great and unsearchable things you do not know.” Jeremiah 33:3
PIN THIS!
Read more of Ann’s contributions to AllMomDoes here.
