Sitting in construction traffic, squinting into the June sunlight, I glanced at the time and sighed in relief. Maybe I would be home early. My mind drifted to supper plans and housework as I waited for the car in front of me to move. I had just been dismissed at the end of a long day, waiting to be summoned for jury duty in a small room crammed with uncomfortable chairs and silent people, while a television droned. I’d gotten lost during the lunch break trying to find a local bookstore and had broken the heels of my shoes on a cobbled street. I couldn’t wait to recount my day to my husband, perhaps over a bowl of ice cream.

My cell phone rang, and I answered it, noting that the number was unfamiliar but local­­—probably the library calling to tell me my newest books were in. Instead I heard my doctor’s voice. She told me that the results of a recent blood test showed that I had a Lyme infection. She said she’d put me on antibiotics right away and see me again in a few weeks.

After our brief exchange, I hung up. What exactly was Lyme? Hadn’t I studied that in one of my biology courses? Wasn’t it like mono­—just a passing infection? It didn’t sound like much of a concern. The doctor seemed to think a few weeks of antibiotics would do the trick. Still bumping through the construction, I phoned my mother and told her what I’d just heard. She seemed concerned, but I told her I hadn’t felt sick, just a bit stiff. I attributed it to my new job, which was in a building with very heavy doors.

After supper, I looked up Lyme information online. All the pages I read mentioned finding ticks embedded in one’s skin, then developing a bull’s-eye rash and flu-like symptoms. I hadn’t experienced any of those. However, the next week, I did begin to feel sick—lig­ht-headed and feverish. And tired, so tired. I’d always had high energy (some might say I was hyperactive), and now I couldn’t make it to lunchtime without dozing. I’d come home from work and fall asleep right away. Mercifully, training filled the first few months of my job, so that I had small assignments and not full-sized reports.

After several weeks of antibiotics, I returned to my doctor. Blood tests showed Lyme still present, so she gave me more antibiotics. My joints ached constantly, and the lymph nodes in my neck, arms, and chest were painfully swollen. The drugs made me nauseous, and I had to take over-the-counter pain pills every four hours. I wondered what God was trying to teach me as I dragged myself through each day, grieving the loss of my health, praying for relief from the pain that didn’t always respond to pills.

One Sabbath I noticed with surprise that, for the first time in three months, my body didn’t ache. True, I was still enormously tired, but I didn’t take any Advil that day. The next day was just as pain-free. And the next, and the next. After a week of good days, I wondered if I was healed. I’d seen a doctor more familiar with Lyme, and he told me to enjoy my current state of health and come back if anything went wrong.

After a month, I rejoiced, believing that my course of Lyme was done. I slowly gained some measure of my energy back while enjoying the cooler autumn weather. Except for continued fatigue, I felt like myself again.

I remained healthy until the following spring (2009). Allergies triggered a Lyme flare, and I went back to the “Lyme-literate” doctor for more antibiotics. This was much worse than the previous summer’s sickness. I was taking more drugs, which made me more nauseous, while the pain returned to fill my body. The fatigue that had never left me completely returned in force, coupled with insomnia and nightmares. I noticed great weakness in my arms and legs, which sometimes tingled or went numb.

Months of antibiotics did not improve my symptoms. As I learned more about Lyme, I lost hope that I would ever shake it. I discovered that for some people it remains a cycle of flares and recoveries for years, even decades. I became depressed and emotionally exhausted. My work suffered; some days I could not even leave the house because of pain and stiffness. I had to turn down events and invitations and limit my social time because I was simply unable to summon the strength necessary. This made me feel more sad and lonely. My sweet husband took over many of my household chores and took excellent care of me, yet I was cross and snappish one moment, and crying the next. I wanted all this sickness to end.

One day, in anger, I wrote a list of 10 things I most hated about my disease, posting it on my online journal. During the week that followed, God used a coworker, a friend with Lyme, and several close friends to lovingly and firmly convict me of my pride. My coworker, a person with mixed religious faiths, told me to my face that, though I was one of the most religious people she knew, my faith was evidently lacking, because I would not humble myself to accept my weakness and accept help. I was, by my actions, insisting that I could handle my life myself, which was an obvious falsehood, and I was making myself more miserable in the process. This angered me at first, but the Spirit opened my eyes to the truth of these words when I returned to my desk and caught sight of a framed text I kept there:

And He has said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for power is perfected in weakness.” Most gladly, therefore, I will rather boast about my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may dwell in me. Therefore I am well content with weaknesses, with insults, with distresses, with persecutions, with difficulties, for Christ’s sake; for when I am weak, then I am strong (2 Cor. 12:9-10).

I was overwhelmed by my lack of trust in God. What right had I to complain and cry, when Christ bore such suffering for me? What on earth made me think that I had any strength of my own, especially when I had none? How I had failed to imitate my Savior! Shaken, I repented in sorrow. That day I also returned to my list of 10 hateful things and rewrote it as an exercise in thankfulness.

Soon afterward, my manager met with me to discuss my health issues. That meeting resulted in intermittent medical leave and the chance to work from home at regular intervals during the week. I also found a new doctor who had Lyme himself and had more experience with tick-borne infections. He changed my medications, ordered new blood tests, and taught me some habits that would reduce the inflammation so I could take fewer pain pills. God continued to take care of His wayward child.

I am learning so much now that my eyes have been opened. Observing God’s hand in my life and recognizing His myriad blessings fills me with praises and thankfulness.

The LORD is my strength and my song; he has become my salvation. He is my God, and I will praise him, my father’s God, and I will exalt him” (Ex. 15:2).

My flesh and my heart may fail, But God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever (Ps. 73:26).

His pleasure is not in the strength of the horse, nor his delight in the legs of a man; the Lord delights in those who fear him, who put their hope in his unfailing love (Ps. 147:10-11).

As of writing this, I have had four weeks pain-free, with new test results on the way. I cannot say what has made the difference, physically speaking, nor do I know if it will last. But I certainly know who has the power and grace to give me life each day. I know that whether the day is good or bad, God is with me. I am not alone, or without hope. He has always supplied all my needs. I take great comfort in His promises. Like a child who has worn herself out with kicking and screaming, I surrender to His lovingkindness and rest in His peace.

–Laura Rizzo

Laura V. Rizzo is a member of Broomall, Pa., RPC. She lives in Broomall with her husband, Joe, and works as a clinical writer for a non-profit organization.