"Well, Ollie, what should we do now?" "I don't know, Stan..."

For those of you who have been reading the blog for awhile, I trust that by now you know it's not in my nature to gloss over tough situations. Who would it help? Not me. Certainly not you. I feel like it's easier to do this in my writing because being cryptic takes too many words. Not so easy in the real world.

I am having an incredibly difficult time, health-wise. If you know anything about Mama GP's health issues (see: lupus, fibromyalgia, and scleroderma), you can get an idea of the symptoms I'm dealing with. We're talking daily migraines that last for hours, extreme fatigue, dizziness, constant low-grade fevers. Typing about it alone makes me feel gross.

Last week I got blood work done, so we can move forward in properly diagnosing and deciding how to deal with all this jazz. No update yet from the doctor, but I'll keep Mama posted so she can update the rest of you.

At this point, "frustrated" isn't really the word. "Exhausted" is. I had a great one-on-one with my mission president yesterday. If doctors listened the way this man listens, oh my grace, the medical world would progress like mad. But I digress.

I expected that he would share a scripture of comfort with me and let me know that he cared, both of which he did. What I did not expect is the warmth that I felt when he told me, "Sister Goodpaster, do you think God thinks you're messing things up?"
"Um, yes. I'm running at about 42% efficiency right now. Work's not getting done that should be because I physically cannot do it."
Pause.
"Sister Goodpaster, do you think God understands you?"
"Of course He does."
"Then don't you think He's already well-aware of the fact that you're not well. Do you think that God would allow you to be sick and then be upset at you for it?"
"No, I just feel like this is the job that He told me to do, and I feel like I'm failing Him because I can't be 100% at the one job He wanted me to do right now."
Pause.
"I can see that there is patience to be learned. It baffles me as to why you try so hard to be patient with God and with others and yet you have such a hard time doing so with yourself."

Is he right? Of course he is. Which leads me to something that's given me loads of comfort in this awkward I-don't-what-the-heck-I-have stage.

Watch the video in this link, and then come back. I'll wait...
http://bcove.me/d8agyqna

"Before I got sick I remember defining myself by the different things I did. And I remember realizing that God saw me as someone who was worthwhile as a soul, not worthwhile because I had accomplished this, or done this, or not done this. And then I remember that I realized that I was still me, and I was still of value, even though I couldn't really accomplish much at all..."

As exhausted as I am with this entire situation, (it's been getting increasingly worse over the last couple of months or so), I adore the thought above that she expressed in the video. It's what President Wilson was trying to tell me. It's essentially what God's message is for His children. You are not the things you do. You are you and you're trying your best. At one time very early in my mission, my "best" was waking up at 6:30 with absolutely no pain, working a full/productive day with no headaches, and going to bed a little before 10. Good, sound sleep. At that point I remember being pretty pleased with myself and thinking, "I'm efficient! Life isn't 'easy' but it's pretty brilliant." And then, slowly, my health started deteriorating. I expected this. A mission will make your body straight-up feel things it's never felt before, ailments included.

What continues to be a daily lesson is this: understanding that just because I can't currently be a "100% effective missionary" doesn't mean that I'm not of worth at my job, that I'm slacking off, or that God's disappointed in me for biffing this transfer/my companionship/our area. Not a chance. I'm worthwhile as a soul. I don't have to prove anything; I just have to move forward with patience and earnest effort.

You can, too.

Friends, though the "not knowing" has been a challenge, I remember something wise a dear friend once told me: "Sometimes you have to deal with the concept of indefinite pain. God is not Santa Claus. You have to love Him the most when you feel the farthest from Him."

Final thought: I will find joy in this journey and accept the fact that I cannot control everything. I will find joy in days where all I want to do is spork my eyes out of my face. I know, I know...what the heck is joyful about that? That Heavenly Father is giving me the chance to learn and grow in ways that I probably wouldn't have figured out had I never experienced these trials.

I believe it's called humility. Be patient with yourself. Accept that sometimes efficiency should take a back seat to acceptance and an open mind and heart.

I love you guys. Now go have a laugh and enjoy a summertime frozen treat, would you?!

We hug in this family,
Sister G