The mind is a fascinating thing. At any given moment, our brains are processing an almost incomprehensible number of signals, interpreting information from our bodies and our surroundings, anticipating what might happen next, remembering what has happened before, and trying to protect us. We often don’t even notice most of it. We touch something hot and instinctively pull away. We step awkwardly and our body responds before we have time to think. We experience pain and our brain tells us something is wrong.

Our nervous systems were designed to protect us. But what happens when the very system designed to protect you begins to misfire?

It is an age-old question: Do you see the glass as half-full or half-empty?

We usually treat the answer as a reflection of personality. The person who notices what remains is called an optimist. The person who notices what is missing is called a pessimist.

But I have come to believe the question is more complicated than that.

What happens when the calling God has given you seems to slip away because of chronic illness? I prayed for healing. Instead, God met me with sustaining grace. This is the story of a mobility scooter, a room full of students, and the faithfulness of a Savior whose strength is made perfect in weakness.

Recently, a friend posted pictures on Facebook from their stopover at a serene, deserted beach in the Caribbean. The images were breathtaking, with crystal blue water, calm seas, and full sunshine, evoking such peacefulness that I could imagine myself there with my toes in the sand. I love having a glimpse into their lives as they live and travel on their sailboat.

Have you ever found yourself in church, listening to a sermon, and your thoughts drift away? I am sure we have all been there — writing notes to stay focused, fidgeting to calm nerves, or perhaps struggling to stay awake due to a lack of sleep. That is where I found myself on this Sunday, and adding to my distraction were thoughts of a recent discussion with my physician. I have Rheumatoid Arthritis so am no stranger to difficult medical conversations, but discussing the future need for a knee replacement at age 47 had been a shock and was weighing on my mind.