Jennifer Fitzroy

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           I am one of 185,000 people in the United States living with spina bifida, a birth defect that occurs when the spine fails to close during the first month of prenatal life. Spina bifida affects each and every person differently, and can result in full or partial paralysis, excess fluid on the brain, and medical complications. In my lifetime, I’ve had over thirty major surgeries and more medical appointments than I could ever remember.

            I grew up with a family that brought me to church every week and talked with me about Jesus, but for most of my childhood, I was too angry to make sense of the love of God. I was angry because I had to endure physical pain. I was angry because I didn’t fit in. My disability made me different, and I was often teased and isolated.  I hated my disability and myself. No one could give me an answer as to why God had been so unfair in giving me spina bifida.  I prayed to be rid of my disability, and when that prayer wasn’t answered, I turned my back. If God was all-mighty and all-powerful, why couldn’t He rid me of this burden I carried? I didn’t know whether to believe in God, or to believe in Him and be mad at Him. I couldn’t make sense of my suffering.

            In the fall of my freshman year of high school, I had major spinal surgery, and due to serious complications, I was in the hospital for much longer than expected. I was in severe pain and on flat bed rest for weeks. I was emotionally and physically exhausted, and I just didn’t want to keep going. I wanted it to end. I had never been in a lower, darker place.

            My grandmother would often read the Bible to me, but I didn’t want to have anything to do with God. Acknowledging that I had nowhere else to turn in my suffering, however, I did try to pray a few times, but it felt so forced and fake that I could hardly bear to listen to myself. One afternoon, however, Romans 12:2 spoke to me.  (Do not conform any longer to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind. Then you will be able to test and approve what God's will is - His good, pleasing, and perfect will.) I’d heard that verse before, but in my desperation, I was hearing it with new ears. That verse spoke to me because it says “don’t be conformed to this world,” my prayers had always been for conformity – I wanted God to remove my physical limitations so I could conform and be like everyone else. I’d based my disbelief on the fact that He had never shown any mercy in removing my burdens, and now hearing that I wasn’t supposed to be conforming after all was a revelation. At the same time, it was scary – I wanted to conform. I wanted the burdens to be gone and to be like everyone else, and I wasn’t sure that I could accept a God who was asking this of me – to carry these burdens and endure this suffering. I wasn’t sure that I wanted to undergo that type of transformation; it was scary, and I wanted something easier and better.

            That night, however, I couldn’t sleep and the hours stretched on endlessly as they always do in hospitals. I was thinking about this again, and I had to acknowledge that I was on a path of isolation and depression. Even if God was asking me to still have my burdens, even if he was asking me to change, the alternative of following Him still had to be better. I was terrified that night as I started to pray, but that night, a genuine desire was born in me. Instead of wanting God to rid me of my spina bifida, or make me like everyone else, I decided that I wanted God to strengthen my mind and my spirit – to transform me – so that I would be better able to cope with the burdens and circumstances He had planned for me. As I prayed for the strength to overcome my obstacles – instead of the removal of my obstacles – for the very first time in my life, I felt this sense of support and comfort come rushing through, over, and around me. I felt instantly stronger, as if I could cope with anything. I felt protected and covered by a mighty and powerful force that I didn’t understand yet trusted with everything I had because it gave me so much warmth and protection. 

             I still had my disability, and I still had pain, but all of a sudden, I just didn’t seem to care, and I just didn’t mind. From that moment on, I knew that I was born with spina bifida for a reason. I trusted in God’s plan for my life, and my feelings of self-pity and anger turned to ones of love towards people in similar circumstances as myself. I found that I could use my experiences and the skills God had given me to help other people with disabilities throughout the country and the world. I was seeing more and more that God had placed me in certain situations in my life so that I could encourage others in the present.

            I never would have wanted to be born without spina bifida. Although it doesn’t define me, I would be an entirely different person if I didn’t have spina bifida, and God created me for a specific purpose. Jeremiah 1:5 says “Before I formed you in the womb I knew you, before you were born I set you apart” and the fact that my spine didn’t close is a significant part of who I am. I know that I am fearfully and wonderfully made.

            During the valleys of my life, I think back to those moments when my faith became real. Although I might not know why I am being called to suffer, and I might think it unfair, I know that there is a purpose for each and every pain I endure. I might not know that reason now, but I can trust in God’s plan, and know that God is, always has been, and always will be on the throne.

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