Who Am I

My days are spent just trying to survive. I basically only get out for church, and on occasion get driven to the store to pick up supplements/food that I need. I lay on the couch watching my baby all day, most of the time unable to play with her unless she comes to me. In the evenings I crash, trying to find something to distract me from pain (either with a book or tv). The day is ended with a long bedtime routine and prayer with my husband. People visit, but I am too sick to socialize and usually take the opportunity to lay down in my bedroom while they watch Karalise. I'm attending a new church, and I'm always wondering what people think of me as I barely hobble over to my seat (this week that seat was on the floor since I could did not have the strength to hold myself up in a chair). I sit there uncomfortably, desperately using every last ounce of energy, just trying to listen to and comprehend the sermon. This week I was too weak to hear much. I look out on the congregation and long to get to know them, but don't have the energy to pursue friendships, let alone new friendships.

Honestly, I don't know who I am anymore. A couple years ago, I was a young woman seeking the face of God, yearning to bear fruit in His service for His glory. I loved to listen to people and encourage people. I thrived on fellowshipping with the saints, as we extolled God's goodness with one another. I had weaknesses like any other, but appreciated exposing my weaknesses to root out the darkness. I loved learning about God. I was most excited when I saw others growing in the Lord. I wanted to serve alongside my husband as his helpmate, encouraging him in the ministries given to him. I wanted to train up my daughter in the fear of the Lord, giving most of my strength to her education. I had hoped to homeschool. I wanted to disciple young women. I wanted to provide mercy to those who suffer.

Those desires are still somewhere in my heart. However, my body has taken over. Debilitating weakness cripples my body and my mind. I will confess that I struggle with envy...envy of old men who walk twice as fast as me with their walkers. My husband laughingly tells me God has given me the gift of encouragement...it must really make their day when those feeble old men realise they could do laps around me. I am rarely able to make my own meals. Cleaning is even more scarce. I yearn to get out in the sun for walks, but am so weak I would make it one block and not be able to get home again. I'd just be stuck there collapsed on the sidewalk. As for my mind, it is difficult to remember things, to think clearly, to hear my thoughts above the screaming of pain. I pray very simple prayers now. Sometimes I am only able to get through half my prayer, just because I am too exhausted to continue. Yes, even using my mind is exhausting.

Who am I? It feels like my debilitation now defines me. My husband sees pain and suffering. Many of my friends are lost to me...I am too weak to pursue them, and it is rare for them to keep in touch with me. The friends who do visit are there to help, which I desperately need, but I feel like I've lost the ability to really communicate with them. It seems like they too are only able to see the weakness, the brokenness. I feel like strangers must think I'm drunk or crazy or both. I feel eyes on me, I feel questions, but am unable to be anything other than a bruised reed.

Lynette is now a woman of exhaustion, weakness, and pain. She struggles in her faith as much as she struggles just to maintain a grasp of her mind. Is there any trace of the person, the soul, or have the bodily ailments consumed her?