Carrying Imperfection

As I battle with my body through this winter, I wonder what the future years will bring. I hope to get a better handle on this disease, yet I know that the battle won't ever end, it will just take on a new shape. I'm contemplating getting whole genome testing to help identify where the mutation is in my DNA and provide information for future generations. I think about what I may have passed on to my sons and it makes me feel sick inside. 


My DNA is broken and I don't know how to fix it.

The imperfection is part of my life as I wake up in the morning and test out my muscles to see if they'll move. The imperfection is with me as I put on a base layer under my clothes to try to keep my muscles warm. The imperfection is part of my body as I weigh each activity I do during the day, picking only the most important and always having a back up plan. The imperfection is with me as I pack my purse with water and extra potassium, just in case. The imperfection is with me each time I decide what to eat and think about what the consequences might be. The imperfection is with me in the afternoon when I just want a nap, but I know that a nap will most certainly bring an episode of paralysis, so I take more potassium and push through. The imperfection is with me when I lay down at night, wondering if I'll be able to move in the morning, as I turn on my heated blanket to try to ease away the constant tightness of my muscles. 

Everything reminds me that my body is less than perfect.


Then I'm reminded that no matter how imperfect my body is, my spiritual DNA is perfect. I am a literal spirit daughter of God. It doesn't get more perfect than that. He is perfect in every way and I am His. And for now that's enough.