sienna says.

a blessing. disguised.

Sometimes blessings aren't always obvious. A couple weeks ago I had planned a weekend trip to South Carolina to visit a dear family and to enjoy a road trip on my own... But then my car started smoking and the radiator broke. The head gaskets decided to do the same. I wasn't able to take it to Sumter anymore and was forced to rent a 2008 Nissan and it was really amazing. But expensive. I was bummed that I had to pay for it but it was good to have this car on such a long trip and I enjoyed the rare treat of being so pampered. I'm still a sucker for old cars and their personalities... this poor black Nissan was void of any personality or voice but it got from point A to point B beautifully and took me along with it. Here it is parked next to Michael's car and I must say, his knows so much better who it is that my little black one. I felt sorry for mine... it really didn't have a story like his and that's the kind of car I want... one that knows it's story and can tell it to others. But it was a blessing even amidst it's personality crisis and all the stress the came with the days before.

I woke up this morning with a pain I remembered falling asleep to. My forehead and eyes were throbbing. I turned over in frustrated agony, flipped open my phone and pulled my eyes away. The light hurt my head. It was 7am. Why was I already awake? The pain wouldn't let me sleep. My head kept throbbing and my stomach churned. The light poured through the windows and felt like daggers headed straight for my weak temples. I tried to burry my head in the pillow but it felt like it was being crushed with rocks. After 30 minutes I finally mustered the energy to venture the two rooms away to the kitchen to get some ice. As I laid it on my head there were no moments of relief like ice usually had during these times. Even the ice stung with pain. The blankets hurt. My pillow was too hard. my clothes made me feel closterphobic. I was freezing and then I was sweating. The stabs in my head wouldn't stop and were only beginning to drive my body crazy. I fought against the tears because they would only quicken the throbbing. I started breathing in and out intentionally to help my body relax. I tried to be still amidst the war that waged inside me. But it was hard and I was exhausted already. I tried not to despair...a migrane was starting.

I was scared because it was the morning and normally I get these in the late afternoon so I can count the hours before dark and will hopefully be able to fall sleep and the night will endure my pain instead of me. But the morning comes with light and migranes don't sleep with light. I didn't know how long I'd have to endure myself. Kiko ran off to get me medicine around 9am. When she returned I had to eat something before I swallowed the pills and during the next two hours I would try intensely to keep the food down so the pills could begin to work. I prayed... and prayed. At times likes these I wondered why I've ever been sad or stressed, annoyed and depressed because at those times I had my health and now it was so out of reach that I wanted to go home to Jesus.

Finally after 6 hours of war my body began to pick up the pieces. I laid still for an hour to make sure it had passed and then crept out of bed and greeted Kiko. It was raining outside and thanked God for the gentle light that met my eyes.

later that day as I was telling Kiko about my morning and the past mornings and nights that have been this way.. I shared with her the odd blessing that comes with its passing. Lowen understands me here and though I would not wish for another migrane, I feel this strange sense of gratitude for the reality of such pain because I may glimpse the other side; health. What a blessing it is. When the pain finally subsides, finally walks away and leaves me lying there, the happiness is worthy of tears. a new motivation stirs. a new day has begun. new opportunity are outside my bedroom door. Beauty is everywhere and I'm able to taste it suddenly with such a freshness and such an elementary gratitude that somehow I can thank the pain for.

sometimes blessings are disguised. sometimes they're really hard to see. but sometimes when we stop and lie there, and take the opportunity to ponder, we can feel them and we realize that really God had meant it for good. our good.