Fiat Voluntas Dei

If you have been following my journey up until now, you are fully aware that there have been more valleys than peeks as of late. I’m almost apprehensive to write anymore due to the dismal tones of the words I share. I’ll apologize in advance for this not being the turn in the story one would expect. This morning I woke up excited; a feeling I haven’t felt in some months now. I was scheduled to meet with the Transplant Committee at a new facility that took on high risk renal failure patients that other facilities would turn away. I had already been made “inactive” on one list and right when I thought there was no hope, a friend informed me of a new institution that would be open to seeing my case. We were told by doctors and various clinics that this new facility even offered dual transplants, which was ideal as I would need a kidney and pancreas transplant. If this were the case, I would not only be healed of my renal failure, but my Type 1 (juvenile) diabetes of 24 years. The purpose behind the meeting with the committee was to determine whether or not I was a viable candidate for their program. The 45 min ride to the meeting was filled with pep talks from my dad, whom I could tell by the inflection in his voice, was eager and excited. We arrived at 10:30 am and I met with a social worker who gave me a general assessment as well as a psychological evaluation. During the assessment, something told me to ask her specifically about the transplant procedure, and to our surprise, we were told that they only offered single transplant surgeries. She asked if I was ok…I lied. Any dream of being healed from a disease after 24 years just seemed to vanish by the click of her pen. But I hid my anger, and told her I would like to move forward with the kidney transplant. The next hour, I met with 2 dietitians; the hour after that, 3 pharmacists; the hour after that, a transplant coordinator, and right when we were racing to the home stretch, the financial planner came in. “I’m sorry to inform you Ms. Robinson, but due to insurance technicalities, we can no longer see your case.” The only response I could give was laughter. I thought to myself…you mean to tell me I’ve spent days undergoing rigorous cardiovascular tests, blood tests, scans, EKGs, and every other test starting with letters from the alphabet, only to get to the last and final steps to be turned away? You have to understand that this particular hospital not only took high risk cases, but their waiting list has never exceeded 7 months since its inception. Every expletive I have learned since the 2nd grade started to rise up in my throat, as I clenched my mouth shut. My body physically reacted to the news, as my fist began to ball up, and the temperature in the room suddenly rose. She apologized for not seeing us first that day, which was originally scheduled. My father and I packed our things and darted for the car. He told me we would be ok, the devil picked the wrong one, and he would fight for me when I didn’t have strength to fight for myself. I completely zoned out in a fit of rage, put my headsets on, and drowned in music until I got home. After getting home and letting the tunes of Adam Ness consume the space in between my ears, I received a phone call from a family friend that is in ministry. His sole purpose every single day when he calls is to pray for my healing. At first, when he started this daily practice, I was opposed to even allowing his words to touch my heart in fear of being disappointed in the long run. I would tune him out as if he were white noise and say all the necessary words of affirmation in order for him to conclude his prayers sooner than later. But over time as my faith began to evolve, and through the help of my family in reading the Word, I slowly but surely began to feel that apprehension change into confirmation. Today was different, however, as he asked me to pray for others and their healing. I physically resisted and cringed. I don’t believe he noticed but I began to cry because why would God ask me to pray for someone else when I had yet to receive an inkling of healing for myself? But I prayed out of obedience… I simply at this point do not have the strength to keep pouring out…at least that’s how I feel. It feels as though I have fallen into an ocean with my hands and feet cemented as I’m gasping for air. The surface light seems to be getting dimmer; and not that I am giving up, but there is a peace in just being still. Mentally, physically, emotionally, and spiritually…I’m exhausted. This is not a plea for words of encouragement or attention, but more so an opportunity for someone to see authentic faith being developed in real time. I had been in and out of the hospital this past weekend, and while sitting in the ER, I made a promise to God that I wouldn’t go back to my old life; although the human side of me could have picked up the phone, and entertained some temporary “pain killers”. This hurts. I’m confused. …But I’m still obedient… If all you need is faith the size of a mustard seed, then bury me.

The majority of my efforts on a day to day basis are dedicated to me trying to escape the present. It’s an ongoing battle thinking about past mistakes, dreaming of my future, and disregarding my current state. Everyone will face a paradox in their life typically between who they were and who they want to be. Often I have cyclical repetitive thoughts on what I could have done differently pertaining to my health, and personal and professional endeavors. I know you are not suppose to live in the past but I often frequent there. I often search there in hopes to finding out how I can be a better person in the future. Going blind has caused me to visit these thoughts in a more vivid and detail manner. I believe everyone experiences this form of time travel. We will sometimes look at a lover, recall the first encounter, and get lost in the memories between those two points. While checking emails at work, reflect on all the years of service to our profession, and wonder if our efforts truly mean anything. I have so much time to think about who I was and the things I’ve done… I just want so desperately to be better. I think about my future often; what that may look like, where I might go, and who I might meet. Quite frankly, I always wanted to influence millions through my servitude in whatever capacity God saw fit. The future IS my happy place. When I was put on dialysis, I went to my happy place. When I got taken off the transplant list, I went to my happy place. When I went completely blind, I went to my happy place. Got denied from another transplant list, I…went…to…my…happy…place. I went to my happy place but was never happy. When you have nothing to lose and everything to gain, you began to obsess over what could be. I have this insatiable desire to live an extraordinary life. A life that would not be silenced by infirmities. This past Wednesday I had the privilege of sharing my story. It was the first time I had verbally spoken about my pain and faith in any public setting. Hours before I was at the doctor’s office not thinking I would be able to speak but as I began to talk to Dr. James, I felt better. Surprisingly, the best I felt in a long while. The feeling was so unfamiliar but so natural at the same time. Maybe this is what purpose feels like. My family thought I was sweating from nerves but not once was I nervous; I was battling my body while adhering to my spirit. I decided to go public with my storm as opposed to waiting for a full recovery because I accurately wanted to represent faith. Often if feels as though life is a marathon in which every time we seem to be getting closer to the finish line, God moves it further away. I hoped in being transparent I could illustrate the different facets in what faith is. To not know what the outcome may be when believing in Something you cannot see. That is what honest faith is. Faith is losing your job and still tithing. Faith is going through a divorce and still maintaining your spirit because you know love will find you again one day. Faith is going blind but being determine to see the world. My faith is steadfast today because of the reflection on my past and the hope for a better tomorrow. One day I’ll have my healing. One day my family will be rewarded for all the sacrifices they have made for me in choosing a life of servitude. One day God will give me the opportunity to connect with millions because I chose to fight. One day I’ll see again. The Time Traveler’s Dream.