Last year, on a Maundy Thursday like today, I was rushed in the emergency. I had not been feeling very well for days – I couldn’t walk on my own to go to the bathroom, my meals were composed of egg broth and soft bread because I couldn’t swallow and everything I looked at were double. It wasn’t the worst time of my life, having a myasthenic flare, though it was an ordeal I would never want to go back again if I had it my way. Anyway, the doctors said I had an acute urinary tract infection and I had to stay in the hospital for eleven days for observation and for my body to adjust to the immunosuppressant. The good part of my summer was spent at home getting my strength and weight back when I could be chilling by the beach with my friends.
I would be a liar if I say I didn’t complain, or even asked God why I had to undergo the horrid things I experienced. I lost a lot of things and I couldn’t understand what and why life has to be so unfair. I am not campaigning for sainthood – no I am not that nice, but heaven knows how I try to be good. So why do I feel like I was being punished?
When I was finally ready to listen, I realized I was not being punished. The Lord is simply preparing me for something more wonderful than everything else I have lost. It may have been a rough – a very rough preparation, but now I sit here and write, that it was all worth it.
I get to tell people how God’s love works in ways unfathomable to us humans.
I get to redeem myself and find opportunities to follow and put my dreams in my hands and make them real.
I get to meet new people who make me think that life is not just all about being lied to, betrayal, suffering and moving on, but also about acceptance that everything happens for reason we don’t understand at first. And when these reasons are finally revealed to us, we’d just tell ourselves, “This is why plan A didn’t work out.”
A year later, here I am feeling as normal as ever. In fact, that Maundy Thursday emergency was the last time I was rushed in the emergency, as opposed to the years prior to that, when I almost became a regular in the ER. These days, I only go to the hospital for check-ups and visits to my fellow myasthenics who are confined. And pray for them. Hard.
The fulfilling nights of asking God what are His plans for me are slowly being revealed before my eyes, and heart. I still am not sure where to go from here, but I know He’s going to lead me where He wants me to be.
Have a blessed Holy Week!