I don't know what my health would be like today if I hadn't started the AIP diet last July. I can't really think about that.
I just finished another 30 days of strict AIP and when I tried one introduction, I had a terrifying reaction. Way worse of a reaction than I had ever had-- I lost control of my hands. One of the scariest symptoms I've ever had. It sent me into a fear-gripped spiral. The following soundtrack has been on nonstop play in my head this week: AIP can help some people, but not you. You are going to end up completely debilitated and handicapped in a few years. You would be better off dead than straining your friends, family, and husband with the stress you are causing. You are going to be the person who is not helped by food and naturopathy and end up on expensive drugs that will send you into an early grave. As my symptoms progressed this week, I felt completely out of control and hysterical. I had worked so hard and even so, very scary stuff was happening to me. I told myself that I just needed to hold it together until I could get to my functional medicine doctor and until she could confirm the significance of my symptoms. Once I knew what was happening to my body, I could deal with it. And in the midst of my hysteria, I felt a nudge. I knew my fear wasn't helping me. And furthermore, I knew that I could not choose to have hope based on my circumstances. Maybe some people only have hope when the odds are stacked in their favor. Maybe some people only have hope when they hear a doctor tell them "cancer-free." Maybe some people only have hope when the path to victory is clear and inevitable. But I know that my hope is not found in any answer this world can give or any set of circumstances I find myself in, good or bad. Two weeks ago I did something I hadn't done since I was a teenager. As a teenager, I used to love to have my quiet times in my backyard on a swing. Here I was 16 years later, sitting on a swing in the middle of White Rock trail praying. I was engulfed in fear thinking about all I could lose. Tom was out of town and I had the whole day alone with my thoughts and anxieties. I began to swing as I was listening to hymns and enjoying the beauty of creation. And then I realized-- whatever I stand to lose is only in this life. I cannot wait to have hope until I know the worst-case scenario won't happen to me. I cannot wait to have hope until I know the doctor's diagnosis. I cannot wait to have hope until my symptoms subside. Because that would mean my hope is in temporary and fleeting events in a broken and desperate world. And the Bible says all the things of this earth are light and momentary troubles. My circumstances could in any way keep me from the peace, joy, love, acceptance, and contentment I felt in that moment on the swing. And that means that my hope must be in the only thing I can count on--- in Christ. In Him my hope is found. Regardless of my circumstances. Regardless of the scariest symptoms. Regardless of what I lose in this life.
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