My face is frozen.
My doctor wanted to see me on a “bad day” so here I sit. We go through the standard neuromuscular tests. He asks me to raise my leg while he pushes against my leg, testing my strength. Lacking skeletal muscle strength, my leg slams into the examination table. He asks me t
o smile. I cannot. Raise my eyebrows. I cannot. Tears leak down my face. I lack the strength to wipe them away.
I mutter something about wanting to be normal again.
“What is normal for you Mrs. White?” the doctor asks.
I wasn’t prepared for the wave of emotions associated with that question. It was a logical question, since he never knew me before, when I was normal.
“Normal for me is…” The tears puddle in open hands resting on my lap. Apologizing for my lack of composure I continue.
“Normal for me is:
October 2015, the last weekend I felt “normal.” My beloved and I of 22 years on a ferry to Ocracoke Island, NC.
Feeling like a productive member of society
Working
Being active
Running at least three days a week
Volunteering at my kid’s school
Playing the violin
Cooking meals for my family and for others
Throwing the ball with my kids
Attempting to keep my house straight
Serving and reaching out to others
Talking with the other moms at carpool, instead of staying in my car alone, afraid that if I stand I will fall flat on my face.
Not feeling isolated
“What is normal for you Mrs. White?” Those words echo in my mind for days following the appointment. Curious, I opened the Bible app and performed a keyword search for the word ‘normal.’
Normal: No results found.
Shaking my head in disbelief, I decided this requires coffee. While the liquid mercy brewed I leaned against the counter trying to wrap my mind around this catastrophic implication.
Like a lawyer appealing a case before a jury, I pound my fist on the counter, pleading to myself “If the word ‘normal’ is not in the Bible, then why am I so desperate to be normal?”
Christmas violin performance at the Hotel Roanoke.
Filling my mug with liquid mercy I realize my desire to be normal is unbiblical.
We are not called to be normal. God calls us:
Unique (Song of Solomon 6:9)
Chosen (1 Peter 2:9, Ephesians: 1:4,11, 2:10, John 15:16, 2 Thessalonians 2:13)
The apple of His eye (Psalm 17:8, Zechariah 2:8)
His delight (Zephaniah 3:17, Isaiah 62:4)
His treasured possession (Deuteronomy 7:6, 14:2, 26:18, Malachi 3:17)
Beautiful and lovely (Song of Solomon 2:10-15)
Flawless (Song of Solomon 4:7)
Sparkles like jewels in a crown (Zechariah 9:16-17)
Engraved in the palm of His hand (Isaiah 49:16)
The work of His splendor (Isaiah 60:21, 61:3)
His bride (Revelation 19:7-8)
A pleasing aroma to Christ (2 Corinthians 2:14-15)
I still catch myself falling into the “need to feel normal” trap. Prior to an indoor soccer game, Andrew caught me crying. Reading my mind he said,
“Mom, stop crying over wanting to be normal. God made you unique and that’s better than normal.”
Obnoxious sports mom to Andrew and Rachel. I am blessed.
Wise beyond his thirteen years, Andrew is right. Normal is boring and unbiblical. I’d much rather call myself unique, chosen, flawless, a pleasing aroma, the work of His splendor, beautiful, lovely, His delight, the apple of His eye, His treasured possession, His bride, and of course sparkling like jewels. What girl doesn’t want to sparkle?
Even though I desire to participate in some old self activities, God has taught me that my old self thought I was normal. I have a rare neuromuscular disease. My days of thinking I am normal are long gone. I’ve always been a rare gem to the Lord. Perhaps He had to allow a rare disease to take over my body so I can truly understand who I am in Christ. I’m okay with it because “It is well with my soul.”
~April Dawn White
Photos courtesy of April White and Pixabay.com