At the end of August this past summer, we quit Amazon Prime and Netflix. A number of factors were at play, but the main thing is that our memberships with those two companies weren’t in keeping with our family values, so we said goodbye.

Now, my kids have rediscovered PBS and are totally into The Great British Baking Show and Wild Kratz. And on the occasion that we order from Amazon, things take a lot longer to get here.

A few months ago, finally, after years and years of joint pain, I started treatment for rheumatoid arthritis. The course of treatment was an initial dose of steroids to take care of the inflammation while the long-term drug built up in my body and started to work.

The first day on the full dose of steroids, I cried. I hadn’t realized how much pain I’d been in until it stopped. My energy came back. I felt like Bradley Cooper in Limitless.

After several weeks, as per the plan, I started tapering off the steroids. I landed on my face. Most of the pain came flooding back, with all the fatigue, and my mood flopped. I think at some point I started to compensate and pull myself out of it, but not long after that it was time to stop taking the steroids altogether.

My last dose of steroids was the weekend of the Victorian Strolls. I had an “I’m king of the world!” moment on Thursday night after our first stroll, and by Monday I was suffering from a chest cold and questioning my existence on earth.

I go through mood cycles, so I can’t hold the steroids responsible for the entire crash. It was just unfortunate that the meds stopped right then. With the accomplishment of getting our family costumed and to both strolls, I probably would have crashed afterwards even without the steroids.

I spent the better part of the week after that on the sofa, which is a familiar spot for me. I had hoped once I finally started doing something about the RA that I wouldn’t HAVE to live on the sofa anymore.

Instead, my throat was on fire and my body, sluggish. I couldn’t tell if my long-term RA meds had kicked in. It just felt like everything was back to square one.

Add to that the fact that I ran out of my favorite tea. I used to be able to find it at a local store, but they stopped carrying it. I couldn’t find it anywhere besides Amazon.

It used to be if I discovered I’d run out of something I knew was on Amazon, it would be on my doorstep a couple of days later. Without Prime, it’s a different story.

I don’t have any regrets about giving up Amazon Prime. The tea eventually arrived, and the first warm mug-full was just as wonderful as I imagined it would be.

I believe it was part of The Plan that I waited this long to deal with the RA, because the doctor I found is truly Christ embodied. If the meds he put me on don’t end up working (and for now, maybe they just need more time), I’m confident that he’ll work with me to get it right.

But that week and a half, waiting for the tea, it felt like nothing would be right until I was holding a mug of steaming goodness in my hands. It was a small pleasure that seemed like it would make the bigger things more doable.

I do that. I take all the things going on in my life, and I distill them into one thing I don’t have. If I had that one thing, all the rest of life would be better.

I know that is a lie. The tea wouldn’t fix my joint pain, my sluggish energy level, or the reality that recently, life doesn’t feel like it has a lot of meaning. It would have to be some pretty kick ass tea to take care of all that.

Most of the time, fixating on a missing thing ends in disappointment. The thing that’s “missing” is rarely what I’m truly looking for. This time, the tea did help. But I know accepting the trough I’m in this season is more important than having the right tea.