There's Stormy Weather Here

“What are the storms of your life?” Now, I want you to really think about that question for a minute. I found myself reading those words just a few weeks ago at the Mayo Clinic in Rochester, Minnesota.  I’m reading those words right outside Mayo Clinic’s Center for the Spirit. And boy, my mind, body and spirit were drenched from the storm of my life.

 In March of this year I was diagnosed with Crohn’s disease. I’m not going to go into the nitty gritty details— but Crohn’s disease is a chronic inflammatory condition of the gastrointestinal tract. It’s painful, it’s uncomfortable, and as of today there is no cure. Of course there’s no perfect time to get a diagnosis, but unbeknownst to me, I’ve had this for years—my idea of what normal “intestinal activity” is extremely skewed.  So, after—well— years of pain, I have an answer: Crohn’s. My parents and I came to the Mayo Clinic, not hoping for a lesser diagnosis—which now was so glaringly obvious—but to seek a little guidance, to find the best course of action for treatment, and maybe a little sunlight in all of this rain.

In the days after my original diagnosis in March, despite numerous other doctor’s visits, blood-tests, diet changes and even leading up to this trip to Minnesota, my stomach had been in a tight, impossible knot.  On this day, at that moment, my tests were through. As I step inside the Center for the Spirit, I immediately feel a sense of calm. I feel settled.  Metaphorically speaking, I can see patches of sunlight and my spirit feels that warmth.  It’s quiet in the Center, as we’re the only ones. There are stunning stained glass art pieces back-lit along the walls and the large room reminds me of a seashell, --the kind of shell that spirals inward. I follow along as the wall winds around to my left and find a smaller room. A sign reads, ‘No shoes allowed.” This is a Muslim Prayer Room. I see a shelf with 10 or 12 different editions of the Koran, with a sheet of paper listing all the times for calls to prayer, including where the sun would be in the sky. There are prayer rugs neatly rolled, waiting to be used.

There’s more to this Center.  On the floor in this circular oasis, is a labyrinth woven into the carpet. There are benches designed beautifully to fit into the curved architecture of the room.  The benches are padded—perfect for a quiet moment of prayer, introspection or meditation.

The Mayo Clinic is one of, if not the leading medical facility on the entire planet. Thousands of people from all walks of life travel to Mayo every year to get the very best medical care.  I sit down on a bench and I take a deep breath. I’m sitting on a bench, my own spirit comforted, and I’m wondering who has taken shelter here, even temporarily, searching for answers a doctor has no way of answering. Dr. William J. Mayo put it this way, “We must not forget that happiness is a state of mind, not necessarily of body, and that life is what each person believes it to be. The sick man needs faith, faith in his physician, but there comes a time when faith in a higher power may be necessary to sustain his morale.”

Who had waited long hours for a surgery to complete? For heartbreaking results, or maybe, he, she, they got the results they’d been praying for. Maybe they pray to God or to Allah or another of the higher beings people believe in this big world of ours.

Now, how are you weathering the storms of your life? Are you the battered, seasoned sailboat? Are you the reliable lighthouse? Faced with the downpour of your life, do you have your umbrella? Maybe you’re standing in the middle of a field, with no shelter in sight, getting absolutely dumped on. Remember to have faith.

Just because your storm isn’t any more or less a hurricane than the next person, doesn’t mean that it isn’t just as hard or as difficult to get through the day, or the week or the year. Maybe the storms of your life have you barely treading water. Maybe you’re questioning what you’re doing, or why you’re living the way you are, or how or who you’re believing in. Maybe your storm is as rough as an undesirable diagnosis, or the death of a loved one or maybe, maybe it’s simply a Monday morning and you’ve gone and stubbed your big toe, and you’ve spilt all the coffee… and you really, really wanted and needed that coffee.  Remember to have faith.

In the face of the storm, or in the middle of the storm, sometimes in the panic, it's hard to remember to have faith. How is it that we always seem to forgot? Peace, my friends, be still.

I’ve been in a state mourning these last few months. It was an absolute punch in the gut—pun quite intended—here I’ve been thinking I’m this healthy 20-something, when in reality, my body has been attacking me from the inside. Some days it’s an absolute bottomless pit of anxiety and doubt. But, I have faith.  I have faith that I will weather and survive those mornings when I stub my toe, or spill the coffee or any number of the millions of things that can and probably will go wrong on a Monday morning or any day of the week that ends in the letter “Y”.  And…I have faith that despite the storm I’m in, despite the downpour, I keep getting wonderful glimpses of the sun.