2014: The Year That Ate Me Away

It’s weird to think about, but this time last year I was in virtually the same place in my life. How that happens, I do not know. I do, however, feel like God is saying, “That was a test run; now it is time for the real thing.”

This time last year, I was confused about ordination, knowing I needed to make decisions, and I needed to make them quickly. This time last year, I knew I wanted to be dating. I wanted to begin to know who I was within the context of partnership and I wanted to begin to know what I actually wanted in a relationship. I wanted to go on dates and see what would happen, with, of course, the ultimate goal being that I was eventually seeking a relationship that would challenge me, change me, and hopefully grow into something beautiful and lasting. This time last year I was letting go of my family; I was learning how to not be so responsible for everything that happens at home. This time last year, I was itching to get into my next semester of seminary and learn more about pastoral care in preparation for my summer of chaplaincy.

I sit here in a coffee shop in the Pacific Northwest writing and reflecting on all these things and I realize that these are all things I still want, things still left to be achieved. Where did my year go? And what did I do with that time?

Well let me tell you. The title of this blog was carefully chosen, because 2014 did quite literally eat away at me. For about 6.5 months of the year I was dealing with a chronic illness called gasteroparesis; in it’s beginnings, it caused me to lose about 15-20 pounds within a few weeks. It is an illness where my stomach and my digestive system do not function at the rate they are supposed to. In my case, I digest at about half the rate of a normal body. This causes extreme abdominal pain, acid reflux, and strong fatigue. Now, for about 5 of those months, I had no diagnosis, simply lots of doctors appointments where they had no answers for me. This, among other things, colored my year.

The other part of the title comes from the fact that I truly do think 2014 was almost like a test run for this year. The old Megan is gone. The difference between this January and last January is the person typing this blog. Circumstances are all the same, yet I am different. This change, and my health problems, are the two things that happened without my choosing. I wish I could tell you when exactly I shed my old skin but all I can give you is that it was somewhere in the muddle of my chaplaincy internship. During those 12 weeks, I learned more about the heart of Jesus than I had in my first year at seminary, but as I moved into my fall semester of my second year, I began to see the heart of Jesus in my academics with the same kind of depth I experienced over the summer. Somewhere in here, I transformed into a new creation. The kind of new creation that is promised to us; the kind of new creation that will be renewed just as often as we need.

I experienced some soul crushing heartbreaks this semester. For those of you who know me well, you know the details of these stories, for the rest of you, this is all that’s important: it was hard. Really hard. There were many moments in my semester where I wondered whether I had the strength to keep going in my relationships and in seminary. There were many times my emotional self said, “No way! Not again. I’m done!” While my logical self encouraged me saying, “Yeah right, Megan. No way you’re giving up. You don’t do that. Just keep going.” I made it through this semester with three things: the determined voice of my logical self, my steadfast friends and family, and the gracious transforming love of Jesus. Every time I thought I was going to give up, I’d have a friend, a family member, a strong leaning in my heart remind me of the person Jesus made me; I would be reminded of the person I am and the person I am becoming. I would be reminded of the woman who left her chaplaincy internship with radiance and incredible love for the world. I would be reminded of my own ferocity and beauty. I was given the opportunity to see if I’d begun to engrain how much Jesus loved me or if I was just singing a nice tune.

My intensity and passion are always something I’ve been afraid of. I’ve never really known how to embrace them because they seem to constantly push people away. I’ve always felt like I was “too much”. Coming into the semester with a new outlook on life, blasting through the world with my complete vibrancy, passion, and perspective from the hospital, it was time to see if I’d really learned that I am not “too much”, I am made perfectly and intentionally.

I found it hard to trust people at school like I trusted my CPE cohort. I had massive health problems that still had no answers. I had stories from the summer, stories of deep tragedy, sorrow, and love. They are magnificent stories but they are not for lighthearted conversation. I had this larger version of myself I was now living out. I took up more space with my emotions, my words, and my actions. It was hard for me to live this out, at first.

I then began to sweep into my newfound confidence. I lived into my fears and anxieties. I trusted when I was unsure. I expressed sorrow when I felt it. I held myself with my emotions and my intellect instead of neglecting one part of myself for the sake of the other. As I said above, I experienced some soul crushing moments this semester, yet I found that each moment of fear or broken trust seemed to be overcome quicker and quicker. I seemed to learn how to fully experience the depth of my sadness and pain using it to lead me to a deeper joy when I was ready to be done with my time of grief.

I took myself to some very scary places, places I swore I’d never take myself to again after leaving my clinical depression behind. There were moments I was scared I might become clinically depressed again and enter into a season where everything in life seemed muddied and pointless. But, my internship taught me that I was made this way. I was made to feel deeply. I don’t need to be afraid of it because, in my life, I will return to neutral or happy.

My deep experiences of sorrow helped me to then share my joy with a greater radiance. In embracing my scary sadness I also happened to embrace my sometimes more frightening joy. I learned how to move in and out of my emotions in a healthy way. I learned how to deeply know the love I have from Jesus and use that to keep me constant when my own emotions and my life circumstances continued to vacillate around me.

Back in the summer, when I didn’t know what was wrong with my body, there was a phrase I would use to describe how I felt, “I’m always hungry but I feel like I’m constantly digesting.” With my diagnosis, I now know how accurate this is. Like a normal person, I still get hungry when it’s time to eat, and because I’m a snacker, that’s about every two hours. However, unlike normal bodies, I’m often times still digesting when it’s time to eat again, especially when I didn’t know what was wrong and I didn’t know how I could adjust the type of food and food intake to solve this problem.

This sentence hasn’t just applied to my physical body this year. As I’ve discovered the old Megan being eaten away, I’ve found that, lately, I am always hungry and always digesting. I am always craving to know more of who I am. I am always craving to know more about the love of Jesus, and with that comes continual digestion and processing of the person(s) I am discovering. You see, 2014 gave me a beautiful gift. It was hard, and I am here in January 2015, with the same desires, dilemmas, and goals I had in January 2014. I have come full circle, and part of me is disheartened, but the other part of me is ready to see how I handle these decisions and uncertainty this time around.

I am redeemed. I am loved. I have been eaten away in more than one way. Here’s to renewal and second chances! 

“In him we have redemption through his blood, the forgiveness of sins, in accordance with the riches of God’s grace that he lavished on us.” -- Ephesians 1:7