You gotta have hope

Hope. That was the topic of the sermon at church today. The pastor read several passages of scripture referencing hope. I was glad he was speaking on something other than the government. He has been on that kick for a while and though I agree with most of what he has to say, he seemed stuck in a rut. So hope had my attention. Still I am looking around a bit. Thinking about what I may do after church, letting my mind wander slightly but not completely zoning off. Then he said something about 38 years. "38 years is a long time to be sick" If you have read this post you know that I am 37 years old and my mother died when she was 38 years old. 38 years is significant to me. He was talking about the parable where Jesus healed a man who had been sick for 38 years. The story can be found in John 5: 1-15. Anyway the pastor said the man had to want to be healed. It was his hope and his belief that he would be healed that brought about his healing. The pastor said 38 years is a long time to be sick. He went on to talk about how we have to have hope. We have to take the hope that Jesus offers us. If we believe we are going to stay sick then we probably are. I think this is true regardless of your religious beliefs. I am a firm believer in faith, in theory, but do I actually live with that faith. The kind of faith that also allows you to have hope? I don't think so. I think I have spent most of my life, at least my adult life believing that I was born with this lung disease that took my mother's life at 38 years and my fate would be likewise. I don't talk about it. I don't say it aloud, but it is there. Always there. It is there when I go to sleep. It is there when I wake up. It is there when I get out of breath taking a shower. It is always there. The pastor also spoke of the parable where the man gave 3 of his servants talents (a precious metal such as silver or gold) and expected that they would manage their talents wisely and increase them. He went away and when he returned to ask what they had done with them the first two had doubled their talents. The third man told him he buried his talent for fear of what the man would do to him if he did not have it when he returned. This made the master angry and he took the one talent away. I feel sort of like the man with one talent.  And my talent in this case is hope. I don't fell a sence of hoplessness, but do I fell hopeful or simply resigned. I want to live a long life but what am I doing to make the most of everyday now? I have been living quietly and keeping my hope buried. Just being quiet so as not to test fate. Things are going along smoothly so why rock the boat. Thinking if I ask God for more I may actually come away with less. I don't know if this will make sense to anyone. I am really just writing this to get it out of my head and to try to make sense of it myself. I have never spoken very much of my illness ( that seems odd even typing it) I have never said that "my illness" and I don't like saying it now, so I won't say it again. Anyway it is just something that is. I mean I talk about going to the Dr. or about not feeling good you know. Small talk stuff. But I don't even like to tell my family ( my sister and my aunt) when I am sick. They worry too much and hover and I don't like the attention. Everyone who really knows me knows I have this disease. By the way, the reason I don't call it by a name is because it doesn't have one. How do you like that? What is known is that it is genetic. My mother, myself, my son, my sister and 3 of her 4 children all have this whatevertheheckitis disease. We have all been tested poked prodded x rayed scoped and scraped. They certainly know what we don't have. It is likely some mutated form of cystic fibrosis. My pulmonologists have told me that since the symptoms are very much like CF all they know to do is to treat me they way they treat  a CF patient. Oh I feel ridiculous going into all of this but I am getting to the point or at least trying. Hope. That is what I have been lacking. I have been going on the assumption that my fate was already written. I had no control. What I took away from that sermon is that it is up to me to have hope. To have the faith to ask God to make me better. Am I afraid of being let down? Yes. I know that is a big part of it. I am afraid of letting myself ask for somethig that deep inside I feel I won't receive. I believe in God but do I believe he wants to make me better? I don't know. I do know that what ever my fate it is all part of His plan and all things happen for a reason. I don't ask folks to pray for me. Why should they. I have this lung disease and there is nothing going to change that. Don't waste your time or Gods. Well I have to change that thinking if I am going to live. I am not saying I think I can go to the alter and have someone place their hands on me and suddenly I'll have new lungs. By living I mean really living each day. Appreciating all that I do have each and every day and living a quality life and having real hope for what the future may hold. I can't say I walked out of there a different person but I can say a spark was lit that I hope to fan into a fire of hope and faith and belief. I am not ready to ask God for a miracle yet but I know I will never get one if I don't ask. I am ready to ask for your prayers. I know that God works miracles. I am sure of it but do I feel worthy? Why am I writing about such a personal matter in such a public way. I don't know. I know I could never say these words aloud. I wish I could be a more open person. Maybe it is my way of saying 38 years is long enough to be sick and it is time to ask God to make me better. Admit that the unknown is really scary and this control freak is not in control . And maybe making me better doesn't mean healing my lungs. I know it is just time for me to have hope. Hope for whatever it is that God has in store for me. Hope for the future. I just know that for some crazy reason I feel compelled to write this so here it is.