Sisters and Brothers by The Vespers

I like to share music occasionally here on My Lyme Symphony. I'm a music lover from way back and believe it's good for the soul and the body. There's nothing quite like a good song that can express our hearts, move and inspire us, or lift our spirits. Music is certainly a language we all understand.

I've been listening to Americana singer-songwriter band, The Vespers for a couple years now and have been a big fan from the start. I find their newest song, "Sisters and Brothers," to be particularly meaningful.

So my Lyme sisters and brothers, this is for you. Hope you enjoy this live session.

"Look out for your sisters, don't forget your brothers. 

Gotta take care of each other."

Love,
Michelle

Never Stop Believing

Even though the days can be long and difficult; Even though our bodies are still exhausted and unwell; Even though we may feel alone and forgotten; Even though this journey seems to be unending—

Never stop believing for something better.

Never give up on your dreams. 

Never let go of your faith.

Miracles do happen.

I'm thinking of you today, friends. And praying hope stays alive and well in your hearts. 

Remember, you are not alone.

In love and friendship,

Michelle

Bring Me Sunshine By The Jive Aces

I thought I'd share something inspiring and lighthearted for the weekend. 

Hope this adds a little sunshine to your day. 

Bless you, friends. 

Michelle

There's Still Hope

Photo credit ~ Favim.com

To My Chronically Ill Friends

I know you.

I know how sick you are. I know how hard it is. I know the crazy roller coaster ride you're on. I know how getting out of bed is more than you have the energy for on many days. I know you push yourself to do even the simplest of things.

I know you're investing everything you have, and even some of what you don't, to get well, feel better, and take your life back. I know you never imagined it would be like this. I know the obstacles seem insurmountable. I know people don't understand.

I know the frustration of not being heard, of being dismissed, overlooked, and misunderstood. I know the discouragement of doing everything right and still see little to no improvement. I know the ups and downs. I know the heartbreak and disappointment you've felt. I know the struggle. I know the mess.

I believe you.

I believe what you say. I believe the unbelievable things you've been experiencing in your body. I believe how surreal it all is. I believe how very hard you work to get well. I believe how much you try to balance everything. I believe you try to be strong for your loved ones.

I believe you're caring, competent, and capable. I believe your ability to persevere through such extreme hardship speaks volumes about who you are. I believe you inspire others. I believe you are making a difference. I believe your story matters. I believe you will overcome this.

I feel you.

I feel your inner struggle. I feel the burden you carry. I feel the aching and longing for change, for something lasting and better. I feel the deep-seated determination you have to see this thing through.

I feel the utter disbelief and outrage at the ignorance and insensitivity within certain aspects of the medical community. I feel your growing desire to escape it. I feel your drive to educate them. I feel your compassion and empathy for others who are also sick, in pain, and struggling with their own circumstances.

I understand you.

I understand the depth of what you go through. I understand the undercurrent of emotions. I understand that you've lost so much along the way. I understand not everybody can see it.

I understand how very different life is now. I understand your uncertainty. I understand those moments of despair. I understand the limitations and how frustrating they are. I understand the loneliness. I understand the brokenness. I understand the words that are often left unspoken.

I understand the need for retreat. I understand how you want to get away but can't. I understand the times you need to be alone. I understand your silence. I really do.

I understand the need for total diversion. I understand how getting out is not necessarily about physically feeling better but about doing something just for you. I understand your desire for simple joys.

I see you.

I see your true colors. I see what you go through. I see your resiliency. I see your courage. I see the love you lavish on other people.

I see the hopes and dreams and wishes you still carry in your heart. I see the depth of wisdom and knowledge you've gleaned through the many long years of suffering. I see how you willingly share it.

I see how you take the time to listen to others, even when you aren't feeling well yourself. I see that you're going through more than anybody else really knows. I see that you're hurting.

I see how easy it would be to give up. I see how you've held on. I see how you've stood your ground. I see the deep faith that sustains you. I see, though your body is weary, just how very strong you really are.

I hear you.

I hear your cries. I hear those held-back tears you shed when no one else is around. I hear your heartfelt and gut-wrenching prayers. I hear your prayers for others; how you ask God to help them hold on too.

I hear your words of support and encouragement. I hear you cheering others on. I hear how you rejoice in another's health victory; how it's really a victory for all of us.

Though buried beneath the exhaustion of illness, I still hear your passion for life. I hear the inner hope with which you speak. I hear your unique expression. I hear the truth of who you are.

And you are beautiful! 

I love you, friends.

You are not alone.

Michelle