Seven Things That Transform Suffering

I can’t carry my plate to the table.

Last month I could do it easily. But with post-polio, things deteriorate rapidly. Every week, I face new challenges, discover things I can no longer do, give up more things I love.

The doctors told me this would happen. But as a young mother, there were other things to worry about. I assumed the real struggle would be decades away. Back then I could easily talk about it, write about it, and even philosophize about it. But now, as it’s happening, I’m angry.

I sit at the counter, tears streaming down my face, flooded with emotion. I scream into my empty house, “God, how could you do this to me? Don’t you love me? I’ve been faithful. Doesn’t that count for something? Why don’t you fix this?” Then I finish my tantrum with God, and sink into self-pity. I decide that God answers other people’s prayers but not mine. That he is unconcerned about my pain. And that my suffering is meaningless.   Continue at Vaneetha Rendall Demski