When my rheumatologist first diagnosed me with fibromyalgia, and I learned I’d likely endure chronic pain for the rest of my life, I felt discouraged, depressed, and struggled to maintain hope. Initially, I was angry with God. Then I became frustrated at myself for letting my tangled emotions hijack my day and productivity.
That was over twelve years ago. While I haven’t yet received the healing I so fervently prayed for, I’ve learned to give space to my feelings and share the depth of my soul with Christ. I’m also learning to hold tight to my hope for relief while
...
This post was originally published on this site.
