Life is such a funny thing.
It’s 9:37 at night and I’m feeling somewhat awake for once, definitely more awake than I have all day. I’m sitting here listening to Claire de Lune, thinking that I actually miss piano, wishing Goodlettsville had won the Little League World Series national championship game today, and ruminating on the meaning of the word chronic and the feeling of new hope. (Don’t get me wrong about piano; I don’t miss the constant Hanon and the pressure and the frustrating lessons. But that’s another blog post. While I may have fallen out of love with piano a year or two ago, I certainly will never fall out of love with Debussy and Chopin and Beethoven–it’s just that these days, I’m content to merely listen to them 80% of the time.) Also, I’m hungry. At least some things never change.
Chronic. Of an illness—persisting for a long time or constantly recurring. Of a person—having an illness persisting for a long time or constantly recurring. Of a problem—long-lasting and difficult to eradicate. I’ve been thinking about this word a lot the past few weeks. I was beginning to believe it was true for me. Funny how one little word can upend your life’s plans so easily. I can’t really explain what it’s like to be so exhausted all the time. I don’t know how to put it into words that others can relate to—such as, “the feeling when you’ve had a bad night’s sleep and have to get up early is what I feel all the time”—because I don’t know what most people feel like on a daily basis. It’s only been six months, but I’ve forgotten it all.
I don’t want to say we’ve found the problem, because there have been many times this year when we thought we had found the problem—thought I had fibromyalgia, or chronic fatigue syndrome, or asthma—and it turned out we hadn’t. I’m not even going to give all the details of our newest lead because I just don’t want to put the cart before the horse and be disappointed yet again. But—chronic might not apply to me. I’m certainly voting that it doesn’t.
Today Maine-Endwell, NY Little League won the national championship at the Little League World Series, so of course I have to draw an illustration from them somewhere. After the game, an ESPN analyst asked Michael Mancini—NY’s starting pitcher—what pitch was working best for him today. Michael answered, his curveball. I feel like if someone were to ask God what’s been working for Him in teaching Hailey the last six months, He would say, “My curveball.” All of this has certainly come out of the blue, spiraling in towards me like a knuckle curve that slipped.
This blog post is pretty out of the blue, I know. A couple of weeks ago, I meant to do a post summing up my summer and starting off senior year. I even have a post saved in drafts with things God taught me this summer and a few final cute pictures from the pool. I hope it will be forthcoming before too long. But when senior year started, it basically came in like a wrecking ball. Between college algebra, a new career in the voiceover business, and my constant fatigue—I had, and have, more than enough on my plate.
So, I don’t really have a great ending to this blog post. I didn’t even know I was going to write it until fifteen minutes ago; I’ll probably regret posting it in the morning. If I even post it, that is. Late-night thoughts (yes, 9:30 is late for me): you think they’re brilliant at the time, but later you realize they’re not. I just know that sometimes, you’re completely weary and utterly exhausted and think you absolutely cannot put one foot in front of the other one more time. And then Someone steps in and picks you up, like a breath of fresh air—through Bible study with friends, even if you come home and crash afterwards. Through lunch and shopping with your little “sister” after a discouraging morning of homework, even if you fall asleep at work later. Through a week full of the Willis Clan’s music and speaking Spanish at youth group and looking up pictures of Italy, Jerusalem, Austria, all the places you want to go. A week that ends with a quiet evening after what was an exhausting day even though you did absolutely nothing, listening to Claire de Lune and feeling the slightest stirrings of hope that soon this might be over. And I felt like someone else needed to hear that tonight—that you can find rest in Him, even if you don’t think you will—so I hope it was you. This is what I’m learning: life is funny and full of curveballs, but God is calling the pitches and I can rest in Him.