My Year Without Worship: The First Six Months: Part I

Therefore we do not lose heart, but though our outer man is decaying, yet our inner man is being renewed day by day. For momentary, light affliction is producing for us an eternal weight of glory far beyond all comparison, while we look not at the things which are seen, but at the things which are not seen; for the things which are seen are temporal, but the things which are not seen are eternal. 2 Corinthians 4:16-18

 

The first 6 months:

I remember crying the first time that I was able to stand and worship. It had been six months since I was last able to do so. The UC had crept upon me so slowly I didn't even notice I was sick. Everything came to feel normal. It was normal to sleep in and miss class 4 out of the five days in a week. It was normal to have to mentally note where every restroom was when I walked into a building. It was normal that in a day I was using the bathroom 10 or more times. It was normal that every night I woke up at least twice to use the restroom. It was normal to be completely exhausted after walking up ten steps. It was normal to miss most of church because I was too busy taking care of business. It was normal not to be able to worship because I wasn't able to stand up for more than 3 minutes at a time, especially if I was singing or speaking. It was normal to be abnormal. I don't know how I let it happen, but after a semester and a summer term of healing, I let myself get sick again. My weight had evened out and my energy was back. I was playing Frisbee and softball and enjoying life. I don't even remember things changing. All that I can remember is the beginning, and the end. In the beginning I was healthy and hopeful for the future. In the end I was back in the hospital, pale as a ghost and being filled up with a bag of iron and wishing that my life wasn't my own. I had listened to the doctors, I gave myself my shots, I took my pills, when I could eat I ate healthy, but it wasn't enough. That is one thing I learned about UC, nothing will ever be enough, UC can always win. That thought still haunts me today. Every ping of pain, every time I eat something just a little too greasy or anytime I toot I wonder if that is the beginning.

In the months leading up to that hospital visit I was in school, doing the best that I could. I'm still not sure how I passed my classes with all B's. I missed more class than attended. I couldn't help but think every time I sent one of my professors an e-mail explaining why I missed class that they were thinking I was lying. I wasn't lying, but I still couldn't look them in the eyes. I felt like a failure. My friends and family couldn't even fully comprehend what I was going through, how could I expect a teacher to? That was one of the hardest things to deal with though, the lack of understanding by friends and family. How do you explain that breathing exhausts you? Or that you spend more time sitting on the toilet than in a desk. How can you explain that you have no hope; that you can't even open your bible, because all you can do is sleep? You can't. It doesn't make any sense that someone could be that far down, but they can be. If you were to compile the position the illness put me in, and the fact that I found myself too tired even to read the bible, you would just find a deep dark hole. And that is where I was. You feel alone, and worthless. You come up with nonsensical ideas, like, "If I don't eat, I can't go to the bathroom". You speak to no one. You're disgusting, and no one wants to listen. These are the lies you tell yourself and that no one can break you from. You think you are never going to be well, because, like I said, this is normal. The hardest part about dealing with an incurable disease is finding hope. When you are told that you are the sickest patient your specialist has seen, or that there is no cure, or when your doctor constantly throws out the word "Surgery" it is easy to give up on hope. You pray for hope. You become jealous. You look around, and see the way the people around you live, what they drink, and in such excess, what they eat and how unhealthy, but it doesn't matter. They are not sick. You can't understand why you can follow Christ, why you can abstain from all the youthful lusts, and why you are the one stricken with this disease. Jealousy.

More to come.

a new beginning.

It's been a good while since I last blogged. Actually, a year and a half has passed. I felt it was time to start it back up in order to express once again how Chile is Awesome. It won't be in the way I had hoped and expected it to be; for instance I would have loved to have seen the picturesque Chilean scenery somewhere other than solely through my hospital window. However, that, among many other things, is not at all what God's plan had in store for me. That is to say, God's perfect plan for me; a plan that has taken me over a year to even partially understand. Since this entry is merely to explain my plan of action with this blog, my thesis if you will, I won't go into too much detail with this just yet, but this plan caused me to run, to be angry, and sometimes even to doubt the presence of god in my life. It caused me to doubt if God existed, could I really believe in such a thing?. I have slowly begun to see that these questions and these doubts were all part of that plan, were all in God's will for my life. Over the next few weeks, maybe even months, I will try to impress upon you what I have experienced over the past 20 months, and what all of this has taught me mentally, emotionally and spiritually. Keep in mind that what sparked all of this to happen was a flare-up of Ulcerative Colitis. With that said, let it be known that this blog won't always be cheerful, couth, clean, uplifting, or even PG 13. It's going to get dirty. It's going to hurt. It's going to be gut-wrenching. I couldn't do it justice any other way. It's been hard times, gross times, seemingly impossible times, but by this, I have been blessed in ways unimaginable unless you feel, trust, and believe in one hundred percent the power and faithfulness of our God. My desire is to do two things: to show how God's plan is unfolding for my life and secondly, to show God's glory revealed in my life. It won't always seem that this destination is where I am headed, but if you stick with me I promise we will get there. I have faced dark times, times when I wasn't sure if I would make it through. But I did. There is a hope in Christ. And this is why I write.

The First

My first blog entry, and well delayed it is! I suppose for now, I will start from day one and summarize everything that has happened up to this point, and begin a more steady blog afterward, so as not to overwhelm the reader! First, I want to apologize for my grammar, I spell well, and I speak well, but I also overly enjoy punctuation marks, especially the comma. So, you will have to endure.
February 3rd, 2009. This is the day everything became real to me. In just a few hours, I was going to be leaving my country, my home, my friends, my family, my comfort, MY ZAXBY’S for six months. This is a strange revelation, but I know that I have a great purpose in Chile. So I packed my things and headed for Atlanta. We left Huntsville a few hours behind schedule, so my arrival to the Atlanta International Airport was less than punctual. This turned out not to be as much of a problem as I had feared it would be. I entered the airport, searched for and found my ticket line. I say line, luckily for me I was the only person running through the maze of rope to the counter. I purchased my ticket, sent off my baggage, and it was real. My family came in from parking the car, and we chatted for a few minutes. After which, we had a short good-bye, and I walked through the security gates to begin my journey to Santiago, Chile. I walked past fifteen terminals until I reached my destination, terminal 1. I waited alone for a few minutes, and then the two others on my flight, Jaclyn and Danny, strolled in. It was good to get to see some semi-familiar faces. After we caught up with each other, we each retreated to our cellular phones to make our “last good-bye” calls. It was bittersweet. Beneath the blaring intercom we all tried our best to part with our dearest friends, and then our names were called. It was time to board the plane. Time to say” Hasta Julio” to US soil. What a crazy feeling that was.
We had been expecting to all have seats in first class, however because of weight distribution on the plane we were all bumped into coach. I was sad to say the least, it wasn’t necessarily that I knew what I was missing, but I was told you had unlimited ice cream in first class. To try to please us the best they could the airline gave us seats with few people surrounding us, I had an inner aisle seat with no one on either side of me. I decided rather than use three seats for myself, I would find Jaclyn and Danny and we would all be able to sit together. It worked out great. We were able to get to know each other some more through talking, laughing, and then trying to find ways to sleep. We landed in Santiago, Chile on February 4th, 2009, a short nine and a half hours after take-off. I purchased my visa, and we headed to baggage claim. On our way we saw Andrew and Katy Mosby waving from a window above, our ride was here and waiting. We grabbed our luggage and met them on the other side of customs. It was great to meet the people we would be working with down here. They are more or less my bosses. We then had time to experience some of Chile as we waited for the last girl, Ashley’s, plane to arrive. We exchanged some of our money into Chilean pesos. The transfer was 640 to 1 dollar, I was an instant millionaire. Then, we stepped for the first time into the Chilean air. It felt amazing, a fresh 70 degrees. Then, we stepped out of the shadow of the airport and hit the real Chilean summer: 95 Degrees. A sweater was not a good choice. After Ashley’s plane arrived we headed toward our new houses where we found Patrick, the other boy on this trip, waiting on us. Danny and I were dropped off and the girls were driven to their home.
Patrick walked us to what would be our home for the next six months. It is more or less a quaint boarding house on the 4th level of the building at the intersection of Vicuna Makeena, and Irravazavel. The duena of the house is named Carmen. She is an elderly woman who was very excited at our arrival. The other two people that live in our house are Nancy who is the live in mom, housemaid, chef, amazing woman, and then there is her daughter Karla, who later I will find out has one of the biggest hearts I have ever come across, she is going to make a great sister. Danny’s and my room holds an amazing view of one of the busiest intersections in Santiago. We are told that after a futbol game the biggest riots in the city take place here. Danny and I had about an hour of rest, and Patrick was ready to give us his tour of the city. We met up with the girls, via our first trip on Trans-Santiago. The Micro (Bus) took us well beyond the girls’ house, because Patrick was a little confused on where they lived. After asking several old natives we finally found our way to the girls’ house. When we arrived the girls were eating a small dinner with Andrew, Katy, and their new family. They were all very nice, and that was when it really hit Danny and me that we were starving. We had not eaten since the plane served us a dismal breakfast. We tried some of the different food that their mother, Gabbie, had to offer, but it was mostly appetizers to us, bread with pica de gallo, and some juice. We had to get out of there and find some food. The girls finished up and we left, Patrick was still in overdrive mode to get his tour underway so we had to beg him to let us stop and eat. We stopped at a small shop near our bus stop and ate our first Chilean food. I had a Viennesa italiana, and a viennesa completa. I can’t much tell you the difference between the two, all I now for sure is they were both hotdogs. One was covered in avocado (palta), mayonnaise, and tomatoes. I suppose that was the Italiana, and was representing the colors of their flag. The other was all of that plus some onions and other various unexpected food items, I guess making it more- Complete. After eating we took the Metro (Subway), and met up with one of Patrick’s friends, Felipe. We walked around for what seemed like forever. We passed a wall of posters informing us that Radiohead and Backstreet Boys were coming to Santiago in March. We were in a part of town known as Peonono. Apparently, this is where a pretty hopping nightlife exists. After walking past several closed bars, small shops, and vendors we reached our destination, San Cristobal…. And this is where I will pick up next entry.