This is me, two years ago (July 3rd, 2014). I was in the hospital between the first and second bag of my blood transfusion. If you think this photo is bad, you should have seen me in person. The old woman wobble, memory fog, bald spots, and steroid rash really topped off the look. But do you see that smile? That was real. I was outside, and I wasn’t crying.
In the weeks leading up to my hospital stay I would beg my boyfriend to take me outside. I needed his help to make it across the fifteen feet of flooring and two stairs that separated my living room from my driveway. I usually pleaded and promised to be good for over an hour before he would cave and drag/carry me outside. You see, he had a very good reason for protesting.
As soon as my face felt the sun, I would break down. Being outside opened a floodgate of emotions. I would cry about my stupid disease, my lack of independence, and my desire to just be normal. I would cry about the constant pain…. And every time I cried, he sat down beside me, stroked my hair, and told me I was going to be ok. Every time, after I finished crying, he picked me back up and carried me inside to begin another round of the couch to bathroom shuffle. This was the first time in weeks I saw a light at the end of the tunnel. I felt the sun and instead of thinking of days past I thought of the days ahead.
When I see this picture, I see hope, joy, and unconditional love.
I see my mother going without sleep for weeks to make sure I didn’t hurt myself stumbling to the bathroom 30 plus times in the middle of the night. I see my father paying my astronomical medical bills without expecting anything in return and my brother driving 14 hours to clean out the dorm room I abandoned when I got really sick.
I see my boss and coworkers stepping in to help me, and I see my roommates watching over me when I came back to school. I see the doctors and nurses who cared for me and the friends and family who came to “babysit” me when I could not be left alone.
I see my grandfather reaching for my hand “for him, not me” when I was too weak to walk by myself but too stubborn to ask for help.
I see my boyfriend telling me he was going to marry me, because he wanted to be the one taking care of me for the rest of my life. And… moments after that he had to rush me inside to get sick.
This picture represents more love than anyone could imagine. In this picture, I felt Christ-like love when I had nothing to give in return. I would yell and scream. I would break down and cry. I would say hurtful, mean things to people who were giving up huge chunks of their lives to take care of me. (Sorry mom…).
I did not deserve their love, but they gave it anyway. I did not deserve their patience, but they gave it anyway. I did not deserve their grace, but they gave it anyway.
They showed me a glimpse of heaven.
In this picture I see the love, the compassion, and the hope for a better tomorrow. I see the huge strides I have made in the past two years. I see the blessings the Lord placed in my life, and the assurance that there is always a peace that passes understanding. In short, I see the unconditional love of Christ. The wobble, the bald spots, and the memory fog are gone, but the smile remains. I know my support system will love me through anything. Some days are still really tough, but I know no matter what happens I have unconditional love on my side.