I'm Not Used to This

The week that the doctor called to tell me I have lupus, I went back to work. Even though I could hardly move and barely had enough strength to stand, I refused to stop teaching. If I could get my hands over my head in the morning, I was going to work. (Looking back, the fact that this was my yard stick for whether or not I should go to work should have been reason enough to stay home.) I remember the day that I announced to my classes that I had lupus. Since the start of the semester, they had watched my hair fall out, my weight drop by over 20 pounds, and my body become more and more frail. They were so attentive in all the classes I had taught that year. I thought it was because I was a great teacher. But now I think it's because they were watching to make sure I didn't collapse in front of them. So when I finally had a diagnosis, I knew it would be better to tell them than to try to hide it. 

At the start of every class that day, I made the announcement. "I have lupus." The school where I was teaching at the time was a Bible college, a place where all the students were training to go into ministry. So I decided that I wanted to be an example for them. I remember telling them about how ministry is hard. Every single one of them will face challenges and obstacles. I spoke of character and endurance. I spoke of showing up in the hard times because people will need them to be there. I spoke of not giving up. And then I prayed for them, that God would strengthen their characters so they would be able to endure whatever their future may hold. And then I jumped right into my lecture.

I remember one class in particular that refused to let me leave it at that. A hand went up. "Um, can we pray for YOU?"  I remember them surrounding me to pray for me. It felt strange. I was so used to giving and pouring into them. I wasn't prepared for them to pour into me so beautifully. As much as I tried to hold it together and stay dignified, I cried as they prayed. When you pour yourself out for people, there are some that don't care. But there are also those who pour right back. I was loved. And those students were determined to make sure that I knew it.

Fast forward to today...

My life looks very different from how it looked over three and a half years ago when the doctor called me. But who I am hasn't changed. In the few years that I've had lupus, I have refused to stop investing in people. Whether it be at work, in ministry, in relationships, or even on my blog, I give what I can to help others. This month, my friend, Liz, decided that it was time that I was on the receiving end. During the month of May (Lupus Awareness Month), she's doing a fundraiser to help me with my medical expenses (an ongoing burden for me and my husband). She works for Keep Collective, a company that makes customizable jewelry. So she decided that she wanted to design a lupus awareness bracelet, sell as much of them as she can, and give me the commissions. When she told me she wanted to do this for me, I was shocked / surprised / humbled / slightly embarrassed / grateful / overwhelmed.  Like how I felt surrounded by students praying for me three and a half years ago, it feels strange. Even though I have found myself on the receiving end more now than before I had lupus, I'm still not used to it. And I've never been on the receiving end of something like this! 

I feel so loved.

It's really hard for me to ask for help. This is one of those advice-for-people-with-lupus things that I really struggle with. I abhor the thought of being a burden or inconveniencing anyone. What's more, I hate the thought of not being strong. Maybe you're like me. I get it. But you know what? Receiving help does not mean you are not strong. We are meant to help each other. And when someone who cares about you offers to do something for you, that is not a time to feel pitiful. That is a time to remember that you are not alone and you are loved. What a wonderful thing!