I remember when I was in the midst of my struggle with muscular dystrophy, crying out after another trip to the hospital from extreme muscle pain. It seemed impossible to even roll over in bed, or to sit up to take a drink.
As tears were rolling down my face in pain and frustration, I remember wondering “God, why me? What did I do wrong to deserve this?”
It seemed no matter the amount of prayers, quilts made, and visits from pastors would help. My muscles still ached, and the side effects from my medications were taking control. How could I not be angry at God?