I used to think waiting on God meant sitting still, remaining calm after having prayed, and trying to be patient until a breakthrough came. But the last decade of praying for my health to get better has taught me something different.

I’ve never been much of a ‘cool kid’. Growing up in a predominantly English-speaking junior high school, while being a French speaker, born and raised in Haiti, only used to wearing school uniform I learned the hard way how ostracizing it can feel to be different. Awkward black girl here.

Last week, I turned 36. For the first time in a long time, I was excited. For no other reason, than I was happy to feel alive and hopeful (for real this time). In the 13 years of battling Lupus, I have become well-acquainted with the ongoing frustration of deferring and canceling both big and small goals and dreams. This has led me to reflect on my complicated relationship with joy.