I was a little bookworm growing up. I don't have any vivid memories of learning how to read. I only remember knowing how to as if reading were some autonomic ability; one that never comes or goes...just simply is.

I sped through The Little House on the Prairie and onto The Series of Unfortunate Events. The Boxcar Children, American Girl, and a pile of non-fiction books about horses cluttered my desk and filled my backpack. I read on the way to school. I read on the way home from school. I spent weekends sitting on the edge of my bed reading aloud to my very own imaginary classroom of students.

Sometime unbeknownst to me reading just sort of slipped away. It wasn't something I prioritized anymore or had to do in order to feel content. I was more interested in learning how to apply makeup, planning sleepovers, and babysitting for various families in our neighborhood. Before I knew it, I was 16 and licensed to drive with a new job at an assisted living home. Not much time had passed until I was throwing my graduation cap up in the air among my classmates, saying goodbye to the tiny town I grew up in, and moving to the Twin Cities.

When I got here, I didn't know who I was anymore. I questioned if I had ever really known. I distinctly remember staring at myself in the mirror on the back of my dorm room door just after my mom, younger sister, and little brother had helped me unpack and said goodbye...leaving me in a new, uncomfortable life that felt two sizes too big.

In this unfitted and newfound life of mine, I used reading as a getaway. When I couldn't sleep at night because my mind was whirring with questions, worries, and homesick thoughts, I pulled out my iPad and opened the trusty Kindle app. I would read a few pages or chapters at a time and in that short time be reminded that there were indeed worlds outside of my reality and words outside of the constant conversation going on in my head. When things felt turbulent and unpredictable, reading allowed a way to focus on something outside of my monotonous worries. It gave me a distraction and someplace else to go.

As I settled into my new home, routine, and circle of friends, my love for reading waned again. Distracted by homework, chronic pain, family matters, and plans for surgery just up ahead, I forgot about the books in my desk drawer and the potent discovery of my escape.

In March of 2015, I woke up one morning groggy and sore. I was still slowly and begrudgingly recovering from two major joint surgeries, but for some reason I felt excited to wake up. I grabbed my iPad from my desk and downloaded a few books I'd wanted to read for a long time. As they nestled their way into my Kindle app, I felt the need to start another one immediately.

I quickly walked to brunch, ate, and returned straight to my dorm room. I opened the blinds, cracked the window, and crawled back into bed. I started to read. I continued to read. Then, I read some more. I laid in bed all day swiping pages on my iPad screen and remembering what it felt like to escape.

Shortly thereafter, I found out about the Goodreads app and the Barnes and Noble in my area that had a huge selection of used books. (!!!) My short little "to read" list grew from one or two unfamiliar titles to a good hundred and counting. I knew there was a long way to go and it was utterly ridiculous to think that I could read hundreds of books in the little free time I had...but something told me to try. And try I did.

Soon the semester ended and I moved in with a couple and their two sons for the summer. We spent our days having water fights, raising ducks, licking melting popsicles, and biking to the park. On my days off, I read. One book. Two books. I distinctly remember the day I finished my sixth. Before I knew it, another season had passed and my total for the year had reached 18.

Being back to school and maintaining life as a student gave me a run for my money yet again, though. I could hardly complete my reading for class, much less choose a title off of my list for leisure. Even still, I tried. I prioritized the fleeting time as best I could and made sure my weekends consisted of blocks of time devoted to self care. And somewhere amongst all that, I read 25 in 2015.

As I completed my 25th and final book of this year, I paused for a moment and genuinely became teary eyed. Before I could even wonder "why the heck am I crying right now?!" my mind flashed back to each of the books that had passed through my hands in the last 365 days and how each of those books had refined bits and pieces of me I'd forgotten existed. Books filled with underlines, circles, stars, and notes in the margins. Books filled with words that resonated with me in a way that made me feel found. Books that sparked conversations. Books that had taught me and undoubtedly changed me.

I'm a long way from finishing my "to read" list, but I've found that even in that gaping space between now and not yet, it feels like I've found a little piece of myself again...and that feels good. So good.

"It was all unknown to me then, as I sat on that white bench on the day I finished my hike. Everything except the fact that I didn't have to know." -Cheryl Strayed, Wild

#WhatKenzRead: 

1.) As My Body Attacks Itself
2.) Brain on Fire
3.) A Long Walk to Water
4.) The Idea That is America
5.) An Unquiet Mind
6.) A Love Worth Giving 
7.) Gone Girl
8.) The Best Yes
9.) Eight Twenty Eight
10.) Scared
11.) Go Set a Watchman
12.) Grace Eventually
13.) The Sister Season
14.) Until I Say Goodbye
15.) Jesus Feminist 
16.) A Stolen Life
17.) Blindspot 
18.) Who Needs Theology
19.) Reflections from the North Country
20.) The Problem of Pain
21.) Prozac Nation
22.) Every Bitter Thing is Sweet
23.) Room
24.) The Bell Jar
25.) Wild

As of 2pm today, another semester is in the books. Projects presented. Papers turned in. Final exams complete. Donezo.

As I look back on the past 4 months, I find myself wishing I had taken a bit more time to document these memories here on the blog or at least journaled more about them. There is just something about written words that relaxes my anxious heart. It makes me feel like maybe time isn't fleeting after all.

Deep down, I know that it is. I know that living in the dorms with 5 of my best friends won't last forever. I know that the stress of finals week always feels like it's going to kill me...and then it's over and I realize I made it. I know that nannying won't always be considered my job and one day I'll probably have to give it up for good. I also know that it won't always be acceptable to shower once every three days. Pause. What do you mean that's not even acceptable right now?!

I've learned those things. I've learned those things and a whole lot more. A year ago today I was being wheeled into the operating room for my first of two joint surgeries. Through those surgeries and recovery alone, I primarily learned about endurance and how crucial patience is as part of the process.

This semester began with awful abdominal pain and unrelenting nausea/vomiting. I ended up taking a trip to the hospital and spending the first week of classes at home. A colonoscopy was ordered and came back unremarkable aside from inflammation at the very end of my small intestine. I continued to be thrown around between providers who did not understand the extent of my pain and symptoms. Night after night I cried myself to sleep and morning after morning I woke up in tears. It was as if the crying refused to cease -- just as the pain would not cease, either.

Finally, two weeks ago, some answers found their way to me and my team of doctors. After a second opinion, an endoscopy was ordered which revealed a rather large (and bleeding) stomach ulcer. The days following the procedure were mayhem. I was sick from anesthesia, my pain was out of control, and we had to reevaluate my med list to eliminate any and all NSAIDs. I began taking two new medications to treat the ulcer and stuck to a strict diet of bland foods. So much had changed, but the vomiting still persisted and the pain still remained. I spent hours in bed when I should have been writing papers or completing projects. I felt defeated and so badly wanted to throw in the towel and give up on this semester. It was all looking so bleak and dreary.


As I was cleaning out my backpack that day, a crinkled piece of paper fell to the floor. I unfolded it and a smile came across my face as I read the lightly written words...

Lord, may I learn to love You with my mind and through my studies. May I not only seek You when time most perfectly allows or when it is most convenient -- but may I do so in the wake of adversity and in the face of challenge. May I not fear things that push me past my comfort zone. May I not be tempted to take the easy way out. May You calm my anxious spirit as these thoughts run rampant.

Heavenly Father, use my time in higher education -- especially my time here at Bethel -- to honor You and grow in more expansive ways. Reveal Yourself in new and unexpected situations and continue to keep me in the grasp of Your perfect and Heavenly peace.

Amen.

The paper was dated October 22, 2015. I distinctly remember writing out the above prayer one day in class after becoming so frustrated at still being behind on homework after being gone for so much of September. I remember wanting to throw in the towel that day.

I remember wanting to throw in the towel when I was a freshman in high school -- undiagnosed and struggling with my mental health. I remember wanting to throw in the towel as my home nurse taught me how to give myself a weekly injection of Enbrel (a drug to treat autoimmune arthritis and psoriasis). I remember wanting to throw in the towel when I had a kidney infection and spent a week rotating between the hospital and my bed. I remember wanting to throw in the towel after a nurse called me with MRI results and mentioned the words "mass" and "cancerous" last November. I remember wanting to throw in the towel as I began chemotherapy and immunotherapy this past year.

I remember so many times that I desperately, desperately, desperately wanted to throw in the towel...and I also remember that every single time something gave me just enough strength to refrain from doing so.

So instead of chucking the towel as far as I could for once and for all, I readjusted my expectations for this semester, had a long conversation with one of my best friends, and opened up to my professors. I started going to bed earlier and taking a break from homework/studying occasionally to read for fun. I spent some time alone. I took a break from social media. I wrote a bunch of awesome people some good old fashioned snail mail. I prioritized my commitments for next semester. I kept going.

And you know where that led me? Right here. To today. Today when I can say shout "I DID IT!" at the top of my lungs and rest in the truth that this semester panned out just as God had planned it would turn out all along.

To me, it just felt like more pain. More stress, more anxiety, more fear. But with Him, it became an opportunity for more growth. More endurance, more strength, more dependence on Him...and I am oh so grateful for and comforted by the fact that He has allowed me a tiny glimpse of that Heavenly perspective. 

Thursday night was the opening ePatient dinner. I got to meet Leslie in person after following her online for many years. Kirsten and I got to bond more and I also got to meet fellow Minnesotan  as well as some other new friends! Ally, too, was a pleasure to meet in person and I couldn't wait to have my dear  introduce me to  whom I've had a huge friend crush on since like...ever.

Truth be told: I was too chicken to introduce myself that night, but had Britt introduce us Friday morning. ;) It was at this point that I began to kick myself repeatedly because we could've had approximately 12 more hours together in person had I just gotten the courage to, you know, TALK TO HIM. Marvin is a fellow cervical dystonia warrior and he is a complete gem. We spent majority of the remaining conference together and had some incredible conversations. It's friendships like these that remind me how absolutely wonderful it is to have found a community that truly "gets it."

I also got to meet  for the first time. Oh. My. Goodness. This girl is my HERO. She had brain surgery just days before flying out to SFO for MedX and she had nothing but positivity to offer everyone there. Incredible. Absolutely incredible.

Back in May, after spending 2 days in Milwaukee for the 8th annual , I returned home in an immense amount of pain/swelling. After getting just 2 hours of sleep due to pain that night, I got up the next morning and immediately called the on-call rheumatologist at the clinic I had been seen at since November of last year.

From the beginning of our conversation, the physician I was speaking to was belittling, condescending, and rude to me. As I described my symptoms and pain level, he said things such as: "oh, well that's interesting," "I don't know what to tell you," and "there's nothing I can do for you." My personal favorite was: "I'm looking at your chart and there appears to be some confusion about your diagnosis. You're just going to have to wait until you can be seen at Mayo Clinic in July."

After a short diagnosis debate, I shared that I had taken 4 Tramadol in the past 24 hours to no avail. To that, he said,  "I guess I can get you some high dose, short term Prednisone." As he was finally writing the prescription, I asked him to send it to the pharmacy nearest to the place I'm living for the summer versus the one I had entered in the system approximately 30 minutes away (in the town where the clinic is located). His response? "You live in St. Paul, why can't you drive 30 minutes to pick this prescription up?" 

A million questions raced through my mind.

• Did this physician listen to me when I told him I had been bedridden the past 3 days due to pain?
• Does this physician realize how much LIFE has been taken away from me because of said pain?
• Does this physician understand that driving 30 minutes is absolutely out of the question because of the extreme symptoms I am experiencing? 
• Does this physician recognize that July is TWO months away?

I told him I would take care of transferring the prescription myself and ended the phone call by asking him one simple question: "Doctor, do you suffer from any kind of chronic pain?" He responded, "No, I don't." And with that, I left him with one word: "Exactly." 

About two weeks later, I made another call to the clinic to speak with my (now ex-) rheumatologist. I had been bedridden for another 3 days due to a low grade fever, severe pain/swelling, and awful fatigue. I called to get her suggestions and something get me through until I could see a new rheumatologist in the area + make it to Mayo after months of waiting. After a few hours of waiting for a return phone call, I got her nurse on the line. The nurse said these exact words before proceeding to tell me to have a nice day: "Dr. ******* says she can't do anything to help you."

Now, perhaps this little stunt wouldn't have upset me so much had I not been experiencing level 8 pain or had I not already endured countless rude interactions and useless phone calls with other doctors in that clinic...but this really set me off and aided in reaching a whole new level of hopelessness. Things were looking bleak. These are issues within our healthcare system that need to be addressed.



The most aggravating part of this entire situation is clicking onto the clinic's website and reading their mission statement which states that their number one goal is: "...to provide the highest quality consultative and comprehensive rheumatologic care to patients..."

I'm not Merriam Webster, but I can tell you that those words and the care I've received are not synonymous. Let's break them down a bit:

Consultative (adj.): giving advice; having suggestion(s); possessing the power to give advice, but not to make decisions. 

Comprehensive (adj.): including many factors; covering completely or broadly.

None of the phone calls I received in response to multiple cries for help could be described at consultative or comprehensive. This is NOT patient-centered care and it is certainly not care that I will be subjecting myself to any longer. 

My decision to leave this particular clinic (though it was process in itself to find someone new) was my best decision yet. In mid-July, I saw a new rheumatologist in my area who took my entire chart into consideration and further searched for answers even when they were not black and white. In fact, she searched for them ESPECIALLY because they were not black and white. She also caught new signs of joint inflammation and degeneration and started me on a rigorous treatment plan. I went to Mayo Clinic a week later and received similar care and concern.

It's now been about a month since I saw my new rheumatologist. I am slowly adjusting to new medications, therapy sessions, and a more elaborate daily schedule. I am doing well because someone decided to listen. I am preparing to move back on campus in two weeks and because of this new treatment plan, I will likely be able to thrive. At the very least, long days spent bedridden and writhing in pain will not be the "norm." Should I experience a flare like that again (odds are I will at some point -- that's just autoimmune disease), I know that I have a physician who will make it her mission to help me get it under control as soon as possible.

All that to say, I did not write this post to slam the clinic I was formerly seen at (though I would not recommend them to anyone). I wrote this post as a reminder to advocate even if it involves tears, your voice shaking, and having to lay down the law with doctors who think they are superior and all knowing. You are ALWAYS the expert of your own experience(s)...especially when it comes to suffering from chronic pain/illness. You are the one who has to keep holding on when the pain is unrelenting and excruciating. Don't forget that...and please don't forget to use your voice.

 

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I used to be quite the runner. 3 miles one day, 6 miles the next. Even after diagnosis, running helped me clear my mind and maintain a strong body. Then I came off of my biologic due to infection(s). After doing so, I adjusted to new life as a college student, underwent hip/ankle surgery, and entered the recovery period. Between schoolwork, nannying, and maintaining a social life...running got put on the back burner.

That being said, I had big plans for this summer regarding running. I mean HUGE. Without schoolwork to worry about and my best friends scattered all across the country, I wanted to start training for the half marathon I've always wanted to run. I wanted to feel good in my skin again. Then the summer actually arrived. So far, it has been filled with mysterious new symptoms and unrelenting pain. In other words...not running. Sigh. 

I did start Methotrexate injections last Friday and am looking forward to seeing how/if they help me! The injection itself did not burn whatsoever which was pleasantly surprising! Following that injection, my rheumatologist's PA decided to go ahead and give me cortisone injections in both shoulders. I was stiff and sore for most of the weekend but things are feeling pretty good now...again, pleasantly surprising!

Anyway, while I may not be in any place to get my running goals underway + accomplished, I can certainly do other things...like walk on the treadmill in my room and binge watch Friends. ;) Not all is lost!

Today, in honor of nearly wrapping up the 10th and final season (thanks, Netflix), I present to you "11 Times Friends Nailed What It's Like to Live With Chronic Illness."

1.) When someone asks how you're doing and you don't have time/it's not the place to go into actual detail...

2.) When someone says (for the 6 billionth time) "get well soon!" or asks, "so, when are you going to be...erm...like...better?"

3.) When brain fog messes with your memory and you realize you've forgotten to do something (it's usually of great importance)...

4.) When you go in for a routine check up and walk out with a new diagnosis...

5.) When you FINALLY give into those Prednisone cravings...

6.) How Prednisone makes you feel after giving into said cravings... #wired #fat

7.) When you first wake up and think it's going to be a good day, but the second your feet hit the floor your body says otherwise...

8.) When you're trying to function normally in society but it's not working because NOT. ENOUGH. SPOONS...

9.) When you accidentally spend more spoons than you had in the first place and your body begins reacting adversely...

10.) When the Methotrexate, Enbrel, Humira, Orencia, etc. hangover gives you the ability to fall asleep absolutely ANYWHERE the day following...

11.) How you feel after a high pain day + full day of work, school, etc. surrounded by people who don't "get it..."

Because otherwise...

Maybe all we need to navigate this crazy chronic life is a good sense of humor and Friends (the show + real ones, of course)! Or maybe that's the pain meds talking...either way, I hope this post brings a smile to your face and reminds you that someone gets it! Happy Wednesday. :)

Perhaps seeing us there...perhaps that stopped our parents for a minute or two. It clearly stopped one of them long enough to wind up the old camera and capture such a simple memory. Perhaps amidst all the things they were working on and rushing to finish up they caught a glimpse of where the most mundane simplicity and the deepest sense of joy meets.

A year ago today I was in the midst of embarking on an adventure to Swaziland, Africa. I was a bit nervous and hurting, but I also found myself feeling confident and hopeful. I knew that God would use the trip to grow my faith and grant me some answers about my purpose in this big 'ole world. I knew that He would stretch me and change me and use me. In fact, He did those things and He did even MORE. 

Today is July 14th. Though I have never recognized the significance of this date before, today I will acknowledge it greatly. I will reflect, I will thank God plentifully, and I will celebrate.

19 years ago today, my freshman roommate and beautiful friend Maddie was born.

There are 9 months and 25 days between Maddie's date of birth and mine. Let's lay out the facts and figures here: at 9 months and 25 days old, there is not a chance I had a clue that Maddie was being born thousands of miles away. Even further, there is not a chance I had a clue that I would meet her, experience the joy (+ insanity) of living with her, and watch her play such a crucial role in my faith journey and life as a whole. I had not a clue that I would grow up, surrender my life to Jesus, and choose to attend a Christian University. I had not a clue what my freshman year of college would consist of. Let's be real, I was clueLESS, unaware, and likely unconcerned with anything that did not involve eating, sleeping, or pooping. #babylife

Nonetheless and even still, here we are 19 years later...and I cannot stop praising God for all the "in-betweens" that led me to the here and now. I am filled with a heightened awareness and immeasurable gratitude for this one...this Maddie...my Maddie.

If you've logged onto Facebook or scrolled through your Twitter feed the past few days, I would be willing to bet that you, too, have been bombarded with and overwhelmed by statuses, article links, and comments by/from everyone and their mother. 

"It's Adam and Eve not Adam and Steve!"
"Love knows no boundaries!"
"You can change a definition in the dictionary, but you can't change things in the eyes of the ultimate Judge!" 
"Gay marriage doesn't exist...it's just marriage!"

Leviticus 18:22 is quoted. 1 Peter 4:8 counters. Sides are taken. Comment threads grow. Another status is updated. Another article is shared. People around you start whispering about how so-and-so is sporting a rainbow colored profile picture. Your newsfeed now appears to be the makings of World War III -- and on the front lines are the people who have invited you to church, begged you to come to Bible study, and commented on the status update chronicling your rough week with the words, "I'm praying for you."

Suddenly, you begin to wonder...what is this faith thing all about, anyway? If Christianity is about love...why do these people have such a strange way of showing it? If we are all God's children, how can a "God fearing" individual be against gay marriage?

I want to first say that I am not writing this post to condemn or dismantle opinions, lifestyles, reputations, or teachings. I am not publishing this post to say, "look at me, I have it all together!" or to turn my back and pretend that cultural decay does not exist in our fallen world. I am, however, writing this post to discuss an issue of the heart and share what God has revealed to me through my seeking for answers on a topic much larger than (and not specific to) marriage equality. Today, I want to talk about genuine love -- the kind that sent an innocent man to the cross for the salvation of many and the kind that should revolutionize the way we think about and interact with the world that we live in. The kind that has the power to encourage growth, bring hope, and change lives.



I find that the more I try to write about this subject, the less I have to say. I could quote Scripture, link to an article I read, hashtag "love wins," and be done with it...but I feel as if there is an even shorter and more effective way. And so, instead of doing those things, I'd like to suggest we stray from the road most traveled by these days and try something new: 

Let us be so concerned with the desire to show genuine love that we forget to even form opinions on hot political topics, take sides in heated religious debates, and assume that we understand circumstances that we have never endured ourselves. 

Let us realize that no matter what the court system, hardship, victory, or other finalized outcome states/reveals, our call as Christians still remains the same. Let us avoid litigation, condemnation, and vilification. Let us fight for the equality of others and advocate for humanity. 

Let us care so much for LIFE that we quite literally feed the hungry, clothe the naked, invite the stranger in, and visit the prisoner. Let us remember that the actual lives of individuals is far more important than the nitpicking of lifestyles.

Let us love profoundly, deeply, and genuinely. Period.

Last night, I had a lengthy Facebook chat with my friend Alan. Alan is not a Christian and describes himself as a "confused Buddhist" -- someone who was put on this earth to become stronger spiritually. He questions many of the things listed above and says, "I think it's time we start challenging the "strange" ways. It's time more people start self-reflecting versus shouting whatever they see on pop tv {or hear within a religion}." After about 2 hours of messaging back and forth, he said, "the cool thing about our conversation tonight is that I think we are more similar in our spiritual beliefs than we realize. It's our starting point that differs, but luckily it's where we end up that matters most."

Though Alan is not a Christian, I cannot help but apply that last tidbit to my faith life and the way I view the subject of marriage equality. We really do serve a God who is in the midst, and the second we forget that is the second that we need to stop what we are doing and reevaluate what the word "surrender" means. He was with us last week, He is here with us now, and He is in the future where we will eventually be. He is moving us onward to fullness. To redemption. To the renewal of all things. In the meantime, let us move onward, too...and let us do so with genuine love.

This world did not begin with us/our opinions and it's not going to end with those things, either. May each and every one of us simply find rest in our place/call in this world and the part we play in God's story...and may we do that PEACEFULLY while appreciating the unique journey of every other person in this world no matter what the difference is between the lives that we live.

The love I follow and desire to live by was shown on the Cross. Genuine love wins; in every form, despite every circumstance, and through the test of time. Jesus wins.

Thanks to CARE.org for sponsoring today’s post and raising awareness about Child Grooms in Nepal!