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.
