Puzzles

“I see that real wisdom is not being able to put together all the puzzle pieces when God allows suffering to shatter our lives. No, that’s not wisdom. Real wisdom is the ability to trust God even when the puzzle pieces don’t fit, and especially when lots of those pieces get lost.”

--Joni Eareckson Tada

“I do not know why oft around me,

my hopes all shattered seem to be;

God's perfect plan I cannot see,

but someday I'll understand,

someday He’ll make it plain to me;

someday when I His face shall see;

someday from tears I shall be free,

for someday I will understand.”

—From The Hymn, “Someday He’ll Make It Plain”

In the last few months, I’ve picked up the hobby of puzzles.  Anyone who knows me knows that I absolutely love puzzles.  This is also the reason I’ve been called the “puzzle queen” in recent days.  While I enjoyed puzzles even as I was a young child, recently they’ve become a place of a rest and reprieve for me. 

Why I love puzzles so much I cannot completely identify.  I think part of it is after years of sickness and medication, my mind doesn’t always work as well as it use to; however, I excel at putting puzzles together.

I think what I love most about puzzles is that I love to see broken things redeemed.  When you start a puzzle, you just have a mess of little pieces that make no sense on their own; by the end you have a beautiful picture. 

Our lives are a lot like puzzles.  There are areas of dark pieces.  There are areas of light pieces.  Apart, they often don’t make sense—but when you see the picture, the whole picture, you see why the light and dark are necessary to complete the picture.

In life, we don’t like the dark pieces.  We would prefer our lives stay sunny and bright in the light pieces.  What we can’t see is that sometimes God takes the dark pieces to make the most beautiful part of the picture. 

Unlike literal puzzles, on earth our “life puzzles” may always stay broken.  Sometimes bodies don’t heal.  Sometimes relationships fall apart and can never be put back together.  Yet, I take comfort in the fact that each piece—even the most broken, tattered, dark pieces—are being used by God to ultimately shape the picture of His perfect plan for my life.  While I may not see the way the pieces come together now, I must trust God with the pieces, knowing that one day when all is revealed in my heavenly home I will see all the broken pieces come together and no longer be broken—but redeemed and restored. 

And I heard a great voice out of heaven saying, Behold, the tabernacle of God is with men, and he will dwell with them, and they shall be his people, and God himself shall be with them, and be their God. And God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes; and there shall be no more death, neither sorrow, nor crying, neither shall there be any more pain: for the former things are passed away. And he that sat upon the throne said, Behold, I make all things new. And he said unto me, Write: for these words are true and faithful. And he said unto me, It is done. I am Alpha and Omega, the beginning and the end. I will give unto him that is athirst of the fountain of the water of life freely. He that overcometh shall inherit all things; and I will be his God, and he shall be my son.

Revelation 21:3-7

Myositis May

For the first time, Myositis Awareness is being recognized through the full month of May.  In the past, Myositis was only recognized for one day in September.  For all of us who have been fighting a form of Myositis—Dermatomyositis, Polymyositis, or Inclusion Body Myositis—this is a very important month. 

For over two decades now, the word “myositis” has been all too familiar to my life.  In December 1993, my life changed forever when I was given the diagnosis of Juvenile Dermatomyosits, the childhood form of the disease, at nine years of age.  I had been sick for at least two years at the time, going to doctor to doctor trying to find someone who would listen to and take my symptoms seriously.  I was always a frail child, and perhaps this disease was wearing on my body long before we knew, but at seven years old it started causing me to struggle in my everyday activities.  Since then, Dermatomyositis has been my constant and uninvited companion, following me around, at times with a vengeance, throughout my life.

Juvenile Dermatomyosits is a rare disease, thought to only affect around three to five children per million per year.  It’s unlikely that you will meet more than one person with my diagnosis; and some people do not know anyone with my diagnosis.  Even many doctors I’ve met through my life have not had a patient with the illness.  Having a rare disease is hard; you are often met with skepticism—even from medical professionals—of the validity of your illness and limitations. Being young and sick is especially hard, because as a child you don’t realize that the way you feel is unusual or abnormal.  I grew up thinking that pain was a normal part of the child experience, and even now I struggle to find a way to explain to my peers how my life differs from theirs.  Sickness has always been a part of my life, and I cannot remember what it feels like to be healthy. 

To many people, the word Dermatomyositis means nothing, but to me it means many things.  It means a life altered and broken by an illness no one should have to endure.  It means over two decades of suffering greatly.  It means painful muscles, a weakened body, and a skin rash that, at it’s worst, can feel like someone threw acid on my face.  I’ve had so much inflammation that my body has responded by creating calcinosis, meaning that parts of my body are filled with rock like deposits, which can cause pain, discomfort, and, in some areas, decreased mobility.  The weakness of my body has caused certain muscles to contract, and the contracture of my left arm cannot extend, and will most likely never extend again.  I’ve had so many people in my life doubt the severity of my illness simply because they’ve never heard of it—but make no mistake, this a severe, tough, difficult, and debilitating illness.

Along with the hard to endure symptoms, the only treatments available are harsh and strong.  I’ve been through a dozen different medications—not even counting medications like pain medications in attempt to manage symptoms—trying to combat this illness and get it under control.  Among them are steroids, chemotherapy drugs, and transplant drugs, all to attempt to kill the immune system that is actually attacking my healthy cells.  There is a deep lacking in medical solutions for this illness, and we greatly need more research on easier to tolerate medications for this illness.  The drug I am currently on—the drug I believe has saved my life while allowing me to have some quality of life—isn’t even considered a real therapy for dermatomyositis, which leads me to believe there are solutions out there that are not even being considered.

The prognosis of the disease varies so greatly between person to person, that it’s hard to know what to expect at diagnosis.  Some cases are easily controlled with medication and an individual may end up in remission, leading a life that is barely any different than someone who is healthy; the more severe cases are never overcome and prove fatal.  I fall somewhere between these two extremes, having some years that are better and some years that are worse, but I am considered chronically ill and permanently disabled.  Even at my best, the fatigue from the illness proved too much for me to be fully independent or able to work.  My body would give out after one day of activity, and even something as simple as a minor cold could weaken me to be bedridden for days.  At my worst, I lost nearly all normal function and ability to care for myself.  At twenty six, I had to rely on my mom as my caregiver to help me with even the most basic of tasks. 

Despite my many physical challenges, I am thankful for my life.  The disease has given me rare gifts—gifts such as perseverance, compassion, and strength of faith—that I would not have without it.  I also feel that one reason God put me on this earth is to be a voice for the JDM sufferers who follow me—to lessen the isolation they feel by educating others about this illness.  My hope is that Myositis May will create increased emotional support by peers; more funds and research on new and innovative treatments; and more doctors who are properly educated in treating dermatomyositis patients.