I'm my own worst enemy!

When I have no spoons or motivation to do housework, I often watch Youtube videos of people cleaning their home. Sometimes it works and I feel that I can get something done.

This can sometimes go against me because often the videos are of women half my age, with no disabilities and therefore no need to worry about spoons or flares or having to take a nana nap.

They seem to be cleaning houses that are already immaculate and they make it look so easy. Their homes outshine mine in every way, and so does their appearance. It can make me more depressed if I am in a flare of fibromyalgia, trying to get motivated to clean and teetering at the edge of the Pit of Despair. 

So I have to take Chris's advice and remember that I am an older woman with chronic health issues and try not to compare myself with them. But the desire to kindle a spark of motivation is strong and I find myself gravitating to those videos like a moth to a flame. And often it only makes me feel worse!

Sometimes, I think I'm my own worst enemy! 

You meant it for my harm

We have had a lot of chaos in our lives with Covid and world events. Being home has meant a lot of time to think. Sometimes this can be good but other times it can lead to depression.

Lately I have had too much time to think and it had given rise to depression at times. Often it lead to having the evil one throw darts at me, often in reminding me of sins and mistakes of the past.

Things have been better lately. Once I realised that the darts were coming from the evil one, I was able to take action.

We know that the Holy Spirit convicts us of sin with a way out: repentance and forgiveness. But the evil one condemns and accuses with no way to move forward out of the path of guilt and anxiety.

What the evil one was doing was trying to make me feel guilty and sad over past sins that have been forgiven and covered by the Blood of Jesus. 

Remembering that Jesus has thrown those sins and mistakes into the Sea of Forgetfulness and remembers them no more, gave me the tool and the power to overcome these attacks.

An example of this would be me remembering some sin in my past that I would prefer to forget. The old anxiety pattern would start, making me miserable. So my conversation (vocal if I was alone) was to acknowledge with Satan that I was indeed guilty... but reminding him that Jesus has paid the price for that sin and has forgiven me! 

Immediately, I would thank Jesus for His sacrifice and forgiveness and I would feel happy again. Satan cannot stand us to pray, praise and love Jesus! 

What Satan meant for my harm became a reason to rejoice in my salvation! 

Next time you are reminded of your past sin, remind him that you are redeemed and belong to Christ and start to praise Him. The devil will flee and what was meant for evil will be for your good.

 
© Glenys Robyn Hicks

 

But as for you, you meant evil against me; but God meant it for good, in order to bring it about as it is this day, to save many people alive. Genesis 50:20

Maranatha!

Scripture tells us that we will not know the day or hour that Jesus comes to take His Bride- the Church home with Him. We who are looking for His glorious appearing and being with Christ for eternity are longing for the Day. And so we should be.

“However, no one knows the day or hour when these things will happen, not even the angels in heaven or the Son himself. Only the Father knows"  Matthew 24:36

Many of us are experiencing our own tribulations as the world is cast into the shadow of the great Tribulation, and we are tired of living in this sin-filled, ungodly world. We need to keep not only our eyes looking up, but our hearts. 

As in the days of Noah, so shall it be in the final days before the Rapture also known in the Bible as the Harpazo and  Rapturo. (Yes it is mentioned in the scriptures). We need to keep the faith, keep fighting the good fight and keep our spirits and heart in longing for our Beloved to come for us. And He is coming! 

What can we be doing as we wait for Jesus to take us Home?

• I believe we should be in prayer for those people suffering under authorities such as the Taliban and for all those Christians who are in danger. 
• We need to intercede for the Ukrainians who are being invaded as we speak.

• We should be praying for those who are still unsaved. 

• Keeping the faith can be difficult for some, especially as the world gets darker. We need to pray for ourselves too.

How can we overcome the anxiety and depression these end days bring?

• We should bring our thoughts and minds under the control of the Holy Spirit by focussing on good things that are still here

• We must remember that Christ is in control, no matter how bad a situation becomes.

• We must bring everything we see, hear and read in to the light of the Word and we must remember that all these things, though disturbing, are temporary.

• We must maintain an attitude of gratitude for all things in our life and dwell on God's goodness.

• We simply must be a person of worship and praise.

• We must be in the Word.
• We must remember that Jesus has promised to take us Home before the Great Tribulation. Revelation 3:10 see below

The end is in sight and we are tired. We long for Jesus to take us to be with Him. We are continuing to fight the good fight. We are running the race and our Saviour cheers us on. 

We are being His faithful servants even in the end days.. whilst watching and waiting. Even so, come Lord Jesus! Maranatha! If you are not saved, get saved now. There's not much time left so get on the Ark! 

© Glenys Robyn Hicks

Because you have kept My command to persevere, I also will keep you from the hour of trial which shall come upon the whole world, to test those who dwell on the earth. Revelation 3:10

Having patience with yourself

  

Lately, I have realised that one of the reasons for my high blood pressure is probably in the way I stress about not being able to do what I want due to fibromyalgia.

Although I know that I am not to blame for being ill, I sometimes find myself berating myself and feeling cross that I am a lame duck. It really gets to me at times.

Often I succumb to false guilt, the guilt that comes from matters that are not in my control, and it is easy to go to the Pit of Despair. You do not want to go there.

On rare occasions, I burst into tears and it is then that Chris usually comes to my rescue, pointing out that it's not my fault, that whatever needs to be done can wait or he promises that he will do it...

It made me think that sometimes I am my own worst enemy. By self-condemnation, I am making a sad situation worse for myself.

When I realised that it was my thinking that makes me get so down sometimes, I smiled at the irony: usually I am trying to validate my tiredness and pain to "normals"- those who do not live with chronic pain and no spoons. Now the "normals" are validating me.

So today, after cleaning my kitchen and making lunch, I am going to "the beach" again. I am going to relax and only get up again when it is time to cook tea.

I am going to start to speak to myself as I would speak to someone else who was ill and blaming themselves: lovingly and kindly. Which just doesn't come naturally to me. I have patience with everyone except myself.

Hanging on by a thread revisited

We chronically ill women always have times when we feel that we are barely holding it all together. We are literally becoming unravelled and we feel like we are hanging on by a thread.

Flares, unrelenting pain, immeasurable fatigue, depression and lack of restorative sleep can all add to the feeling that we can't go on. Even breathing seems like an effort.

It is in those times that we must reach out to God and ask Him to give us the strength to get through each day- or especially the night which seems the longest when we long to sleep but can't.

We need to try to listen to the Word or put on some Christian worship music, and give ourselves over to relaxing as much as is possible for someone in the grip of pain or depression. But we have to focus on something positive, or else we will be getting a one way to the Pit of Despair. We don't want to go there.

By focusing on something positive, we can actually release endorphins, those chemicals that reduce pain and increase a feeling of well-being. 

Reaching out to God during these times is critical to our staying in control emotionally. But we must do it, in faith.

If the woman with the issue of blood hadn't reached out to Jesus by touching the hem of His garment, she would not have been healed.

I am not necessarily saying that you will get healed, even though it is possible of course. But you will be lifted up to a higher level of coping with it all.

Worship and praising God whilst suffering is the most exquisitely beautiful act of trust and reverence. It will lift us up and set the enemy of our souls to flight.

So, next time you are feeling you are hanging by a thread, make sure it's the hem of Christ's garment.

© Glenys Robyn Hicks

And suddenly, a woman who had a flow of blood for twelve years came from behind and touched the hem of His garment. Matthew 9.20

Bother to lift us up and not tear us down

It amazes me how many people are uninformed about something yet feel compelled to give an opinion or advice about it.

When I got fibromyalgia everyone told me it was in my head. I pushed myself physically to get through it but the emotional toll was so bad. Guilt. Failure. Self loathing. Exacerbation of it all. In the end it was all for nothing: fibromyalgia is real.

How one talks to a chronically ill person is important as often they can take those words and apply it to themself, even if that person really doesn't understand about their illness.

Quite often speaking erroneously and negatively can damage a person so much that they actually feel worse. Those words have the propensity to cause so much emotionally destructive thoughts that cripple a person worse than the disease or ailment they suffer does.

Unsolicited advice such as starting exercising, dieting, positive thinking, all sound great for most maladies, but alas, not so great for chronic illness such as heart failure, osteoporosis, spinal stenosis, lupus and fibromyalgia.

Taking this on board for the person already grieving for their lost health can lead a person straight to the Pit of Despair. And it achieves nothing.

A little kindness would go a long way to helping the chronically ill retain self respect and accept their illness quicker. But most times those who give advice are anything but kind, sounding judgmental and arrogant. Which just expounds on how truly unhelpful they really are- or try to be.

Being kind and gentle to those suffering is Christ's way- so if you think you have enough knowledge and love to impart some wisdom and instruction to a chronically ill person- do so gently and kindly.

God Himself knows we have enough to contend with already as we walk the sad and lonely path of illness. We need less words and more acts that impart sympathy and compassion.

Pray for us and comfort us and be one of the few who bother to lift us up and not tear us down.

© Glenys Robyn Hicks 

And Jesus went forth, and saw a great multitude, and was moved with compassion toward them, and he healed their sick. Matthew 14:14

Pain is a disability

Anyone who suffers from chronic pain knows that it precludes us from a lot of enjoyment of life. Pain makes the vicissitudes of life that much harder to bear. 

Everything is exaggerated both physically and mentally, and the only thing I can do is accept that this is not my usual self, for pain changes people.

Pain disables us in many ways. from physical activity. from family life. from sex. from sleep. from patience. from social life. from functioning normally. from life generally.

The effects of pain cause us to withdraw from people and become reclusive. It makes us feel isolated and unable to really feel understood or validated. We learn to be distrustful of others.

Because chronic pain, in my case fibromyalgia, causes us so much mental as well as physical angst, we decide to retreat to our home often preferring it even if we had enough spoons to leave.

Seeing as pain is such a disabling affliction, it makes no sense to me that we are often regarded by doctors with suspicion when we request heavy duty pain relief such as opiates.

Most of us cannot get enough medication to adequately help us with our pain. We often then succumb to depression and live as recluses  due to agoraphobia. 

We who suffer from chronic pain know that it is a disability. Invisible and destructive. We live in the knowledge that pain is disabling. 

We just wish doctors were as aware of the ongoing relentless disability called Pain.

Taken for granted

And so another week of being at home is upon us. The future is uncertain and looks a bit grim. However, there are some things surfacing out of this that are good.

There is a growing awareness of the value of living life intentionally.  Because the Corona Virus is no respecter of age or gender and can be so easily acquired, there is a deeper awareness that tomorrow is not guaranteed. Life is not taken for granted any more.

Our families that live with us may get on our nerves during the isolation, but with it comes a bond or connection to each other as we brave this outbreak.

Social media and mobile phones have been great in bringing us closer in communication, but this isolation has created in most of us a longing for physical contact with those who do not live with us. There is nothing like a hug, and kiss or a hold of the hand.

There has been a greater appreciation of the first responders who truly risk their lives to keep us or our loved ones alive if they contract the virus. They are to be honoured above all others. No longer taken for granted: they are the epitomy of servanthood and sacrifice.

The chance to revive family ties or marriages is here with no work to keep us apart, and intimacy both in marriage and with the parenting relationship have the opportunity to thrive. The family is no longer taken for granted.  Nor is love. 

So much is changing, but as at Easter, traditional worship was replaced by streamed online services, and social distancing when at the chemist or supermarket are enforced: helping life retain some normalcy and stability.

Rona has forced the whole world to stop and reassess and has found us guilty. Guilty of believing life would just continue as it was and largely taken for granted. 

There is so much negativity brought on by this virus, but one thing is positive from all of this: we will never again take our freedom, our worship, our family or our friends for granted.

© Glenys Robyn Hicks

"So teach [us] to number our days, that we may apply [our] hearts unto wisdom" Psalm 90:12

It's not a contest

Sometimes I feel guilty for letting off steam at times but I really believe I could have a bit more support than what I am getting. 

We sometimes have words during my fibromyalgia flares and when I have polymyalgia rheumatica at the same time, it can make me scream in desperation. I just want a hand. It helps me emotionally as well as physically and I feel nurtured.

I know my husband is unwell and he has my understanding and utmost sympathy. But sometimes, the pain gets so bad and I have so little spoons that I will yell at him to come and make his own cup of tea or whatever.

After words,  I often cry because I aren't usually like that.  Pain changes people.  Especially unrelenting pain. And unrestorative sleep. Especially that.

Yet, to those who don't know the desperation that pain drives you to, they would just think I was being unreasonable and using my fibro to elicit a response from Chris. 

It's not that at all. Our health issues mean that there are times when we have to help one another. And lately when Chris is not well, I find I am left to push myself beyond my own comfort level while he sleeps on the couch.

His pain is not at the same high level mine is. His health issues relate to other issues regarding heart problems. But his issues are difficult for him to bear. I know that. 

Chronic illness in both people in a marriage presents its own problems. Each one having pain that makes the eyeballs bulge, causes arguments of who'se pain or condition is worse than the other's. A form of validation if you will.

But here's the scoop about chronic illness. It's not a contest. Just another thing about chronic illness that most don't understand. 

No longer taken for granted

And so another week of being at home is upon us. The future is uncertain and looks a bit grim. However, there are some things surfacing out of this that are good.

There is a growing awareness of the value of living life intentionally.  Because the Corona Virus is no respecter of age or gender and can be so easily acquired, there is a deeper awareness that tomorrow is not guaranteed. Life is not taken for granted any more.

Our families that live with us may get on our nerves during the isolation, but with it comes a bond or connection to each other as we brave this outbreak.

Social media and mobile phones have been great in bringing us closer in communication, but this isolation has created in most of us a longing for physical contact with those who do not live with us. There is nothing like a hug, and kiss or a hold of the hand.

There has been a greater appreciation of the first responders who truly risk their lives to keep us or our loved ones alive if they contract the virus. They are to be honoured above all others. No longer taken for granted: they are the epitomy of servanthood and sacrifice.

The chance to revive family ties or marriages is here with no work to keep us apart, and intimacy both in marriage and with the parenting relationship have the opportunity to thrive. The family is no longer taken for granted.  Nor is love. 

So much is changing, but as at Easter, traditional worship was replaced by streamed online services, and social distancing when at the chemist or supermarket are enforced: helping life retain some normalcy and stability.

Rona has forced the whole world to stop and reassess and has found us guilty. Guilty of believing life would just continue as it was and largely taken for granted. 

There is so much negativity brought on by this virus, but one thing is positive from all of this: we will never again take our freedom, our worship, our family or our friends for granted.

© Glenys Robyn Hicks

"So teach [us] to number our days, that we may apply [our] hearts unto wisdom" Psalm 90:12

Only precious to us

Have you wondered why old ladies are always talking about the past, boring you with endless stories of  their family? Every birthday, Nana or Grandma recounts the birth of your father or uncle or mother? or even you. 

Are you bored with hearing about how hard life was in the Depression of the 30's and how they never had many labour saving devices and appliances like we do now? How about when they had cash in their purse or wallet, and plastic cards were unheard of..

As an older woman nearly 70, I do exactly that, I know I do. Every birthday I find myself telling my adult children about their birth, weight, length, good looks and how much I love them.

I often reminisce about their childhood and our homes and life back in the day. Sometimes they don't even try to hide the fact that I am boring them. Yet to me, talking of these things comes as naturally as breathing air.

It's never a productive day if I find myself culling double ups of my online photos. I spend so much time reliving bygone days and sometimes it actually depresses me. Nostalgia can do that.

Why does it depress you? you ask. It depresses me because a lot of the people in the photos have passed. Some family in pictures- mainly cousins- no longer keep in touch in spite of me reaching out via FaceBook. They simply aren't interested in being a family anymore.

I relive certain times and wish I had or hadn't done something or other, knowing that such thinking is futile  because we did the best we could with what we had at the time. It has to be enough to know that.

It hurts me to see pictures of happier days when I babysat grandchildren and those same grandchildren now grown, don't bother to ring me or call in. Yes, yes, I know they have busy lives, but I did too back then and I still found time for them.

It is sad when I am not even invited to theirs or my grandchildren's birthday parties, having been the organiser and host of so many of them for them and their friends at their birthdays. But like an old shoe, I have been cast off to be forgotten.

It doesn't help when one gives their children their baby albums and Infant Welfare Record Books, with locks of hair and tiny wrist band from the hospital- only to find they have been thrown out and not cherished like you did for many many years. 

Precious memories are all we really have, us old ladies. The saddest thing of all is discovering that they are only precious to us.

© Glenys Robyn Hicks

Do not cast me away when I am old; do not forsake me when my strength is gone. Psalm 71.9

Chipping away at the stone

So my fibromyalgia is back with a passion, making every muscle ache. I tried to take a bath a couple of days ago and I had great difficulty getting out. I had to use a pillow under my knee and I had no other option than to lean on it to get up. It was so painful and the consequences are enormous.

I know I shouldn't have tried with both knees with torn menisci and other ligament damage.  I was in so much pain that I longed for a bath to hopefully relax my muscles. It didn't. Nor did it help my sore neck with another episode of polymyalgia rheumatica.

This constant pain is wearing me down. My doctor is too afraid to give me pain relief and I am considering changing doctors. This creates anxiety in me. And to top it all off, I have been cranky and not really a nice person to be near at the moment.

With Chris ill himself, I seem to be carrying everything myself with no help in sight. Take this morning for example. I put on a load of washing, cleaned Xena's litter tray and unloaded and loaded the dishwasher.

Testing our blood sugar level before breakfast,  I asked Chris what he wanted for breakfast. He told me what he wanted, just sitting there waiting for me to get it for him. I am sorry to report that I arced up and told him to get it himself.

I added some other truths about him acting like he's the only one with pain and that I am tired of being his servant when all he does is watch TV and sleep all day. You gotta understand, that usually this isn't an issue, but the pain has truly worn me down.

Chris asked me what I had done so far this morning. I told him and he replied that it isn't necessary to push myself like I am doing. Push myself? Doing minimum household chores?

I told him I was just trying to live a normal life and he replied, "But you aren't normal! You have got to realise that and accept it!" But in fact, what I do is pared down to the bone housekeeping compared to what it was even 10 years ago. How much less can I do and still manage to live a relatively clean and organised life? Single handedly.

Over the 23 years of having fibromyalgia I have had a determination like stone. I would not let fibromyalgia or indeed any of my other painful conditions control my life. And for the most part it hasn't. Until today. It's chipping away at the stone.

We both are spoilt girls

With heart failure and certain blood pressure tablets, my feet and legs puff up with fluid. I have pitting oedema which means that the indent when a finger is pressed on the limb, stays for a long time. My heart is not working as it should.

At the end of the day, when we watch TV together, Chris will automatically reach for my feet and gently massage them, rubbing the fluid upward towards the heart. He also rubs my toes which burn and sting with neuropathy from diabetes.

The other night as Chris rubbed my foot, Xena jumped up onto the couch and lay beside me. Not wanting to miss out on cuddles, she put her paw up on Chris's arm, purring loudly. It was a lovely relaxing time and helped lift our depression. 

Neither Chris or I are doing too well physically at the moment. Chris's sugars are uncontrolled and he has fluid on his lungs from heart failure.

Such is the loving nature of this man that he rubs my feet continually, even when he needs his own done. I do rub his feet and legs at least once a day and when I cut his toe nails for him. But it must be said that his ministrations to me are more frequent than mine to him. I simply have no spoons at the end of the day. 

I manage the house with all that entails and Chris knows that my spoons are in short supply, especially with a fibromyalgia flare, and so he seeks to bring me some comfort and pleasure at the end of the day.

Xena seems to pick up on the loving atmosphere and always makes sure she's between us in order to be included in the cuddles. 

She loves her Daddy too and we consider her as our feline child-and because she loves her Mummy as well, she purrs contentedly as she wonders which one of us is a spoilt girl. We both are spoilt girls.

You just don't know when it will break.

 

Over the last week I have been enjoying a respite from fibromyalgia pain and fatigue. I don't know why it happened, but of course I am glad it did.

During that time I have been busy cooking meals in advance for the next time I have the inevitable flare. It has been working out really well.

I have been carefully pacing myself, allowing 15 minutes of decluttering then resting. Emotionally, it's very satisfying.

Well, I woke up this Sunday morning and have had an unwelcome guest: you guessed it: another fibromyalgia flare. So I guess that I overdid it..So today I will be reaping the benefits of preparing some meals in advance. 

Conversely, though suffering physically, I am not depressed by this: I knew my respite wouldn't last forever. But oh how wonderful it was to have some spoons and to be able to go a whole day without a nana nap!

We Fibromites in regards to spoons and flares, are definitely babies in cradles swinging from the tree tops. We know that at any time the bough can break and we will come tumbling down. 

But it's best if we just learn to go with the flow and try to enjoy the respite: the bough might not break for ages, but you never do know.

It has been humbling.

With the days so uncertain and now a new war, I have an underlying anxiety bordering on depression, I have spent a lot of time in prayer and personal Bible study. 

I have been watching lots of You tube sermons on eschatology or end times and the Rapture. But I have no peace. To be honest, it's doing my head in and destroying my peace.

Before Covid19, I was so peaceful and assured of God's providence and protection of His people, but with many believers also getting the virus, it has shaken my faith. 

Honestly, I felt better before I delved into all the end times predictions and when the Rapture would come.

So in having much time to sit and pray, I have come to realise that the reason for my disquiet is that I want to control my life and destiny. I want to know what will happen tomorrow. I want to know why.

And I want to feel in control. So in realising this, I have had to repent. I have had to study the promises of God and acknowledge that He alone is sovereign. 

I am His to call home or to allow to live. And in so doing, I have had to relinquish my need to control and to know, and I have had to revert to childlike faith.

So now each night I commit my life into God's Hands. And I can sleep. Each morning, I thank God for another day and I am grateful.

Faith is the key to peace. Lack of faith produces fear and is of the evil one. It will do your head in...

Placing my hand in God's Hand as a trusting child has calmed me. The depression  has lifted. And a new depth of my relationship with God as Father has deepened.  I am glad that I have had this crisis to shake my faith and then to strengthen it.

It hasn't been fun and it hasn't been easy.  But like so many times we are put in the crucible, we are better for it. 

To think I was so unsure of my trust in God's protection has worried me, but now that the test is over, I rejoice. It is freeing.

Like in all pruning and growth, I have blossomed in trust.... but it has been humbling. 

© Glenys Robyn Hicks

Now no chastening seems to be joyful for the present, but painful; nevertheless, afterward it yields the peaceable fruit of righteousness to those who have been trained by it.

Normally abnormal

We chronically ill women try so hard to do "normal" things. Like look well. Be cheerful. Be patient. Kind. Hospitable. Our family and marriage are our first priority after God. We try so hard to spin our wheel not fast- but at a "normal" pace. 

By "normal", we compare ourselves to those who do not suffer from chronic illness and pain. Or are disabled. We are very careful to keep serving our family but sometimes with the illness that afflicts us: we fail. This often gets to us and causes us to sink into depression. 

Being unable to process that we simply can't act as "normals", we often berate ourselves and sink into the Pit of Despair. We are often judged by "normal" standards, as we simply cannot attend certain social functions like before. If we do, the pain and effort can make us tense and we can make us appear moody unsociable grumps aka the death head at the feast. 

If only "normals" would realise that we are pushing ourselves every day to live a life that not even closely is "normal" like in the days before our health failed. We get so adept at doing this, that we have become quite good at wearing masks to cover the Mask Of Pain. Hence the appearance of being in a mood. 

My fibromyalgia and other health issues have now made it impossible for me to disguise, and I have learned to acknowledge this to people and tell them in advance that my attendance or action or whatever is totally subject to how I am on any given day. 

Basically, I have had to pander to angina, spinal and knee problems, fibromyalgia, polymyalgia rheumatica, and submit to tyrannical spoons by being totally flexible about my appointments and so on. 

People may still misjudge me but that is not my problem. I just pray that the LORD will allow them to see that I am not lazy or unsociable, but am just a chronically ill woman who finds just breathing some days enough effort. 

The LORD knows I am not well, but people take a lot more convincing. I am normally abnormal.   

Put on therefore, as the elect of God, holy and beloved, bowels of mercies, kindness, humbleness of mind, meekness, longsuffering; Colossians 3:12

Seeking Him in a meltdown

So today I was watching all the news and viewing You Tube videos of current events and I grew fearful.The adrenaline started flowing and I knew that I had to get some control back to my body if possible.

I quickly turned on my worship music. I started to cry as flashbacks of God's faithfulness and goodness over my whole life time flashed before my eyes. Oh how faithful and good He's been to me! 

With a life of  many trials and much pain due to fibromyalgia, I can confidently testify that my God has been there beside me, comforting, correcting, forgiving and being so so compassionate and kind! Sometimes walking beside me and often carrying me.

Trauma, illness and abuse have given me PTSD but even so, I never once have failed to sense God's Presence, so real that I could almost feel His breath and touch of His Hand. 

But being a sufferer of many illnesses including mental illness, I have learned that it is essential to run to Jesus the minute fear or pain or flashbacks assault my peace. And I have learned that it is true that one has to bring those fearful thoughts or emotions in to the captivity of Christ. So I sprang into action.

I sat in my study, closed my eyes and listened to the words of the song that explains exactly how I feel about my God. And slowly the adrenaline abated as the peace that passes all understanding overtook my stressed body.

As I focussed on worship, I didn't hear Chris come in and it wasn't until he took my hand and started to sing along with me that I knew he was near. Not a word was needed to explain why I sat crying with upheld arms and mouthing those words of gratitude and praise. 

Holding Chris' hand, I realised once again how blessed I was by the LORD in giving me a Christian husband who knows to bring his hurts and fears to God and bring his thoughts into the captivity of Christ. And who encourages his damaged soul mate to do the same, by his example.

It's important to keep our focus on God's goodness and faithfulness in times of fear and trouble. It's the only way we are going to regain our peace and equilibrium.  So are you seeking Him in a meltdown?

 © Glenys Robyn Hicks

And the peace of God, which passeth all understanding, shall keep your hearts and minds through Christ Jesus.  Philippians 4:7

Faithful in the end days

There's no doubt that we are living in the end times and that the Blessed Hope or Rapture is imminent. Although we live in hope and expectation, there is still work for us to do as the Bride of Christ.

What can we be doing as we wait for Jesus to take us Home?

• I believe we should be in prayer for those people suffering under authorities such as the Taliban and for all those Christians who are in danger.

• We should be praying for those who are still unsaved. 

• Keeping the faith can be difficult for some, especially as the world gets darker. We need to pray for ourselves too.

How can we overcome the anxiety and depression these end days bring?

• We should bring our thoughts and minds under the control of the Holy Spirit by focussing on good things that are still here

• We must remember that Christ is in control, no matter how bad a situation becomes.

• We must bring everything we see, hear and read in to the light of the Word and we must remember that all these things, though disturbing, are temporary.

• We must maintain an attitude of gratitude for all things in our life and dwell on God's goodness.

• We simply must be a person of worship and praise.

• We must be in the Word.

The end is in sight and we are tired. We long for Jesus to take us to be with Him. We are continuing to fight the good fight. We are running the race and our Saviour cheers us on. 

We are being His faithful servants even in the end days..

© Glenys Robyn Hicks

 "Well done Thou good and faithful servant" Matthew 25:21

They're silently waiting for me

Anyone who follows this blog knows that I struggle with washing the dishes. It is a battle that is fought and lost on two fronts: emotional and physical.

The emotional part is owing to the fact that I don't have a dishwasher and the dishes multiply like rabbits and are a continual eye sore on the side of the sink. 

In spite of cleaning them up and being rewarded by not only an empty sink and benches and of course, clean dishes- I find the complete futility of feeling done with them is disheartening.

A terrible procrastinator, I promise myself that I will keep up with them, but illness laughs as it assails me with yet another flare, and they remain on the bench mocking me for being  defeated yet again.

So here comes the other side of this domestic dilemma: being completely out of spoons and suffering from broken knees and collapsing spine. I simply cannot stand.

And of course that horridly wicked ruler, Fibromyalgia ensures that I am in an almost constant flare, and it is the cherry on the top of my cocktail of pain. So not only is my physical health attacked, but also my mental health. It's depressing.

I know I could ask Chris for help, but he has heart failure and battles his own health issues. It has always been me who washes the dishes, and then he will usually come and dry them and put them away. I am grateful.

Until I can gather some spoons I will sit and wait for my Tramadol to work. I plan to clear the dishes up, cook some steak and vegetables for dinner tonight and rest. That's the plan. Meanwhile, they're silently waiting for me.

I know how she feels

So, many moons ago, my ex-husband and I used to go every Saturday to see our eldest son play football. On inclement weather days, I  would sit in the car with a friend I had made. She came to watch her son play as well.

We would chat during quarters and half time and I had noticed that she had no wedding rings or jewellery of any kind. I knew she was married because her husband and mine would watch our boys together.

She was a bit of a sour puss to be totally honest. Perpetually moody and very negative. I couldn't understand why because she looked well and dressed nicely. There was something about her: she was a bit odd.

Anyway, during our talks she said she was perpetually tired. Bone tired. She didn't work outside of her house and only had one child and he was almost a teenager like our son. What could be making her tired?

Years before the mobile or cell phones came in, I asked her what she thought the time was. She pulled her watch out of her pocket and I couldn't help but ask why didn't she wear it?

She replied that she cannot wear jewellery of any kind. It drove her nuts. Her muscles ached constantly and she was in pain and was being treated for depression. The doctors couldn't find anything wrong with her in spite of oodles of tests. 

For her treatment, she was under the care of a psychiatrist who said she had some form of mental illness that bordered on OCD as well as depression and fatigue. Then she was labelled as a hypochondriac.

She was on strong pain killers and also Valium and anti-depressants. Nothing seemed to help and she told me she had to force herself to come and see her only child play each week.

I thought she was rather weird to be honest. I mean why can't anyone bear to wear even a necklace or wedding ring or watch? Mentally, I lumped her in the acquaintances category, rather than a girl friend.

One day she told me she was having trouble sleeping and she needed to sleep off her medications but often felt groggy and muddled during the day. So, I offered to pray for her. Well, she blew up at me and screamed, "There is no God! If there was, he wouldn't have let my brother die in a fire on an oil rig!"

I was told not to pray for her again and as she was very vitriolic, I decided to sit in our car from then on. I didn't need her anger and aggressiveness.

This was in the 1980's and fast forwarding to 1999, with the identical symptoms as her, I was diagnosed with fibromyalgia after many tests for Lupus. I had never heard of it. 

Psychiatric assessment wasn't even muted and I confess I felt a sense of relief at that. It was a medical condition for a nasty painful syndrome that I now know that poor woman had.

It all fell into place: a trauma that ended her peace, the body aches, fatigue, irritability, skin that could not bear being touched-and it excluding wearing jewellery, no restorative sleep, and brain fog with cognitive difficulties.

In those days, when fibromyalgia was not even heard of by the general population and doctors weren't trained about it, fibromites were treated with disdain and were labelled with munchausens and other neurotic labels and as a result were often overmedicated with anti psychotics and Valium.

After being diagnosed myself, I remembered this poor woman and I confess I too labelled her as a hypochondriac and malinger and possibly suffering from munchausens as well.

I am so glad that fibromyalgia is much more known and is treated as a real malady and not a psychiatric disease. Yes, we occasionally are still misunderstood, but not as much.

Since I found out about fibromyalgia, I still pray for that poor woman and I thank God that at last she would be heard. It's the least I can do for her, now that I know how she feels.

© Glenys Robyn Hicks

Beloved, I pray that you may prosper in all things and be in health, just as your soul prospers. 3 John 1:2