What motivates you to finish your book?

exploring my deeper WHY, and giving thanks for how He redeems my suffering as I write and encourage others

If you are a writer, what motivates you? Do you have the rare luxury of uninterrupted time to finish your articles, books or other projects? If you’re like most of us, you write because you love to write, and you have a passion and need to write. But all of us have other things that require our time and attention, so it takes some dedication and grit to finish a book. In some cases, it takes outright perseverance and determination.

Nowadays, I work part time as a coach, assisting clients who want to heal and grow and create a vision for their future that motivates them and propels them forward to live in more fulfilling ways. But I also live with multiple sclerosis, and physical therapy and taking care of health demands quite a bit of my time and energy as well. Much like learning to walk again after injuries or disease impacts mobility, reclaiming our joy, hope, and sense of purpose can be daunting.

No matter who you are, or whether you live alone or have a family, life holds a variety of responsibilities. These ‘duties’ sometimes make it hard to find time to write. My husband works from home, and our Aussie Mt Doodle can be fairly demanding, too. Setting aside time to write requires intentionality, and I need to remember my WHY.

I got my Masters in Rehabilitation Counseling in 2000, having returned to graduate school in my early 30’s. I loved working in the counseling field, and when health made working full time for an organization too challenging, I had a private counseling practice part time

I self-published a workbook/book back in 2000 in order to fill a real need. I actually wrote that project the year before as I was diagnosed with multiple sclerosis and trying to adapt. I shed a few tears of my own as I wrote these exercises that would eventually help others, too. I had been tested for MS in 1989 already, and I’d lived with the uncertainty that comes with symptoms of relapsing remitting multiple sclerosis for a long time already. But imaging (MRIs were fairly new) wasn’t all that good when I was first tested, and though they told me I might have MS, the doctors couldn’t be certain.

Those early health struggles had interfered with my goal of becoming a physical therapist. The limitations I experienced necessitated leaving the competitive graduate program where I’d worked so hard to get accepted into, and this intense program was something I really wanted to complete. I was about midway through that Masters program in Physical Therapy when I was first tested for MS, and I was in my early 20’s. God taught me so much about the problems with finding my identity in what I could do rather than who I am as His beloved daughter. Leaving that program and letting go of my dream of being a physical therapist represented a huge loss to me. I felt adrift while also trying to recover my health enough to move forward in my life, trying to find a new purpose.

Despite the unclear reasons for the intermittent health difficulties, I had the opportunity to teach at Jiangxi Medical College in China a few years after leaving the physical therapy program, so I gladly pursued this. I absolutely loved my role as an English teacher in China. I thrived on this campus where students came to study medicine, and I had such a joyful experience building relationships with my students and others in the community in Nanchang.

Teaching suited me so well. I woke up excited to teach my classes, and I took time to write in the evenings when I wasn’t grading papers or doing lesson plans, or entertaining the many visitors who came to my apartment. I loved the conversations with these dear people who were searching for hope and meaning in their lives, too. What a blessing to find a sense of purpose and to develop a joyful identity as I did something I dearly loved.

I arrived in China just a couple of years after the Tiananmen Square massacre. Some of my students were disillusioned by this very tragic event, but in a communist country, they weren’t allowed to talk openly about what had taken place.

Among my graduate students and neighbors were people who had lived through the Cultural Revolution, too. Some of them had suffered greatly. In the privacy of my apartment, I listened to their stories, sometimes with tears in my eyes. Some of them experienced healing as they spoke of these painful memories for the first time to another human being who genuinely cared about what they had endured.

I understood suffering, and we shared a bond that knit our hearts together. My students were searching for meaning and hope, and I felt their love and appreciation. I often listened as they opened up about their lives and shared privately about some of the trauma they or their families had experienced.

Generations of pain showed up and I felt honored these young people trusted me with their hearts. I felt a very special sense of belonging, which was very healing for me as well. I enjoyed these students and the other medical college staff. They were beautiful young people and some of them have become lifelong friends. I’ve had the joy of returning a few times after those two years of teaching in Nanchang.

A few years after I returned to the US, I finally received an accurate diagnosis in 1999. Multiple Sclerosis had been my companion for more than a decade, but I finally knew what this intruder was called and had some treatment options. However, no cure existed, and I understood that my life was in God’s hands.

As I mentioned earlier, I returned to graduate school to pursue a degree in the counseling field, which I finished in 2000. When I finally received the call from the neurologist who put me through so many tests to rule out other conditions, she told me I had multiple sclerosis. A friend commented to me that I must be grieving. I paused for a moment, internally asking myself, “Is that even allowed?”

I had grown up on a farm, and despite some experiencing a few neurological symptoms from a young age, I didn’t really know how to acknowledge my own losses. Maybe that’s because I had been so invalidated for so many years. I knew that what I had experienced over the years was real, and certainly impactful. But family and others couldn’t see this elusive condition, and they seldom offered any real support. I don’t think they knew how. They sometimes said hurtful things like “it’s all in your head.” Well, in fact it was due to lesions in my brain and spinal cord, but once I had a proper diagnosis I understood that health would remain challenging for the rest of my life.

I wrote that book/workbook as a way to work through my own grief as I adjusted to the losses and changes that came along with this sometimes ruthless disease. When I looked for books on this topic, I found a few that dealt with the grief of family members or loved ones when someone they cared about had a disability. But this message was sadly implied: the grief of the person with the disability or health issues really didn’t count for much. And who wants to be the source of sadness for others? I mustered the courage to offer others what I had longed for but had seldom found: validation and a pathway to process the grief that accompanies serious health conditions.

So I wrote a book that filled a niche, and I self-published this project in 2000. I had a natural market for this resource. My rehab clients would take home a copy and we would talk over the exercises they had completed. For people who needed a way to process the changes and losses they experienced due to health, this book provided a way for them to work through the grief. Unacknowledged grief is a source of stress. The book provides an outlet for all of that stress and validation for the very real losses people have experienced. From loss of career options or even intimacy, the losses cut deep. People appreciated knowing someone understood and acknowledged what they had experienced and had to adjust to as health issues changed their lives.

This book found its way into the hands of people with disabilities (or health challenges) in several countries around the globe. In the US, organizations like Commission for the Blind and Vocational Rehabilitation gave copies to their counselors, and ordered some for client use. Sometimes I did workshops for support groups or other intended readers. So that project had motivated me to share some tools to help others who needed to adapt to some tough changes in their lives. Ultimately, people are more able to live with purpose and meaning if they first work through the grief. I found it fulfilling to have a tool (that I had created out of my own need to process the changes and losses multiple sclerosis resulted in) that I could offer to others. And I loved hearing from people who found this book helpful in their journey. Ultimately, my own suffering had led to creation of a tool that helped others find a way forward when health or disability impacted their lives, too.

Over the years, I became quite skilled at helping people adjust to living with a chronic illness or disability. We see God redeem our painful experiences as He brings something good out of struggles. I could even thank Him for this disease because I saw Him lovingly use my experiences to assist others.

As a counselor, I also enjoyed helping people recover from things like depression or anxiety, and create a healthier life for themselves. I learned that when people felt some degree of hope, they would also find the courage to seek healing and growth. Sometimes people had experienced serious trauma that haunted them for years to come. Knowing that healing was possible and that people could recover from mental health challenges (or at least learn to live healthier lives despite some ongoing struggles) inspired me. I met with people who spoke of their struggles with suicidal ideation or major depressive episodes. I had a desire to reduce the stigma in our culture so that people felt comfortable seeking help. I had empathy because my own father had a serious mental illness as I was growing up, so I felt compassion for the suffering of others. But I had never personally experienced suicidal thoughts (and I didn’t know what it felt like to lose the desire to continue living).

That is, until a stretch of time during the pandemic…and I know I am not the only person who experienced some struggles with mental health during this topsy turvy time. Many reported mental health challenges as the pandemic impacted life around the globe. For me it was the perfect storm. My hormones were out of whack. I woke with night sweats and anxiety, and my sense of purpose grew dimmer. Hope felt inaccessible. Normally, I am a fairly resilient person and I have helped others blow on the embers of hope as they sought to recover. Living with MS can be emotionally demanding, and over the years I have found ways to pace myself and care for my emotional well-being. But the isolation of the pandemic, and my husband starting to work from home abruptly created tensions in my marriage. We struggled.

Just before the pandemic hit, I had started writing a book, but my husband’s father died suddenly the fall of 2018. We were heartbroken. Also, my beloved Dutch stepfather had some serious health issues, and mom was doing her best to care for him. Leukemia and a stroke changed this very active dairyman’s life so much, and we were concerned about his declining health.

Around this same time, my husband developed cardiac problems. Uncertainty became our companion. I had some very bad falls, resulting in a concussion. I struggled to keep up, and to help out with family needs. So out of desperation, I set aside my writing project. Once my husband was sent home to work (and he still works from home), I couldn’t meet with people in our home office, so I didn’t try to work from home. So my own sense of purpose grew dimmer. The isolation negatively impacted me and poor sleep only made things worse.

Eventually my stepfather died from the leukemia while the pandemic still impacted lives. My husband and I were both considered high risk, so we didn’t always attend church in person. That loss of community robbed me of life-giving connections. I grew unaccustomed to getting out, and grew more isolated over time.

Depression became an unwelcome guest in our home, and he moved in and just stayed. I found myself having thoughts that were unfamiliar to me and frightening. I am a Christian and I had not normally had suicidal thoughts until this season of life. I struggled to face another day, pulling the covers over my head and withdrawing more. But as a mental health nurse practitioner said to me, those thoughts are to depression like a sneeze is to a cold. Life felt painful and arduous. I felt so stuck, trapped even.

I had initially stopped writing because I felt overwhelmed by the needs around me. But over time, depression distorted my thinking and I felt like I had absolutely nothing to offer. People who I had encouraged and helped in the past noticed I was struggling and they reached out to offer help or words of hope. They told me what a difference I had made in their lives, and I remember feeling like that part of my life and identity was in the distant past.

Joy and hope felt so inaccessible. I knew in my mind that God still loved me, but I felt like my prayers fell to the earth unheard. I felt ashamed and fearful. I couldn’t seem to shake this dark cloud no matter how hard I tried.

So this brings me back to my original topic. Why am I writing this current book? I eventually did recover and even thrived again, but not before languishing in this undesired space where I felt so lost and so stuck.

I live life now with a tremendous amount of gratitude. I feel a secure and meaningful attachment to God once again, and my identity reemerged joyfully as I recovered and reclaimed what mattered most to me. I started writing again, and after we moved and I built a backyard writers cabin and office, I returned to helping clients once more.

Whenever I can see God bring something good out of my own hardships or suffering, I believe He is redeeming the pain. Living with MS, I had experienced this—I became a much more empathetic counselor and more effective at helping others because of those limitations. I also had to work through things that impacted my own identity and reclaim parts of my life that I valued, despite health challenges. I also felt like people had a certain amount of respect for someone who lives as well as they can with a challenging disability like multiple sclerosis. But I didn’t feel like most people even wanted to acknowledge the icky reality of depression in the lives of others.

So in the midst of depression, seeing this dark season redeemed seemed to be an unlikely possibility. Of course I hoped God would use these struggles, too, someday. But I really didn’t enjoy talking about those messy emotional experiences. Too painful. Humbling.

Well, these days as I work with my coaching clients, I am much more effective now than ever before. Nothing transforms us more than enduring painful seasons in life and emerging changed. The people I assist sense that I have an experiential understanding of their struggles, which gives me genuine empathy. The tools and concepts that finally helped me find my way out of the fog have translated into gifts that have made a difference in the lives of others. I take such joy in seeing people recover and reclaim their lives.

One woman wrote me recently that she smiles all the way home after we meet. Others express their gratitude, and my heart rejoices at what God has done as a result of turbulent times. I love knowing that I can help these dear people God has placed in my life.

Finding redemption and hope, and being able to share these with others is very fulfilling. Together we forge a healthier path as we pursue lives of purpose and meaning. We build joy capacity and learn to deepen our connection with Jesus. I thank God that He leads and guides us, and gives us a new identity.

I wake up nowadays excited to write, to help others, and to persevere in living with multiple sclerosis. I want to be an encouragement in the lives of my family and those God has placed in my life. I feel like I live with a deeper, steadier joy than ever before in my life. Much like the grass seed fields springing forth with new vivid green growth after the purifying force of field burning, I have seen vitality and growth return to my heart and mind.

I am writing this book as a labor of love. I am allowing God to redeem my suffering powerfully as I write. I remember how stuck and hopeless I felt during that dark season. So I don’t take my present life for granted. Writing doesn’t come as naturally as it used to. Lesions in my brain hinder progress, slowing me down. But I remember WHY I am writing, and I am confident I will finish this labor of love in the coming months.

My book is called Tenderly Transformed: Growing and Healing Through Turbulent Times. Forged in the crucible of fairly intense suffering, this book will offer encouragement and tools to those who feel stuck too. Whatever the source of turbulence, life gets bumpy sometimes, throwing people off balance. My prayer is that people who feel hopeless will experience a more genuine hope again, renewed within as they grow and heal.