If I could use one word to describe how I feel after this round of Chemo it would be WEAK. I feel weak and depleted. My muscles feel like they have lost all their ability to hold up my frame and I feel unsteady and jittery. I want to get out of bed and participate in the holiday festivities but my body won’t let me. Even as I am typing this, my hands are loose and shaky, barely able to get the words onto the page. My skin is dry and my nails are brittle and breaking and they hurt. And this weakness is challenging for me as I consider myself strong and capable and full of energy. Especially today, this Christmas Eve, when I just want to celebrate and enjoy and partake, but the weakness is winning and I find myself feeling alone, on the outside looking in, just wanting to fully live again.
And what keeps coming to mind is a passage I read in a book this week titled Present Over Perfect. And in this passage, the author, Shauna Niequist, quotes Job 37:5 – 6.
God’s voice thunders in marvelous ways.
He does great things beyond our understanding.
He says to the snow, “Fall on the earth,”
and to the rain shower, “Be a mighty downpour.”
Niequist then gives a beautiful illustration of God’s simplicity and grace. Yes, the snow, in all its magical splendor has only one thing to accomplish, to fall to the earth. And the rain commanded to downpour. And in the simple task of falling, the rain and the snow provide us water to drink and food to eat and air to breath. And their task is not a burden or struggle because they are simply living out what they were created to do.
In my moments of weakness and fatigue, I am comforted by the promise that I too am created for a purpose, just like the snow. That I have gifts to give that are as effortless as a downpour of rain. And in my weakness I want more than ever to feel that ease of just being, to feel that sense of unique purpose, to let go of the burdens that come with trying to rise when I should be falling, or falling when meant to rise.
While difficult, I am grateful for this season of weakness and reflection. It’s giving me the gift of time and clarity. Time to sift through who I am and who I am to others, roles I have taken on and roles I should leave behind, characteristics and qualities I want to build upon and those I want to rid myself of. And I’m digging deep to find that effortless place of living where it’s not about strength or production or doing more and more. But it’s about purpose and intention and being exactly who I am uniquely created to be. Because even at my weakest, I am capable of simply falling like snow.
May this silent night be filled with hope, love and miraculous discovery.