Just call me Wile E.

I'm thinking of changing my name. Wile E. sounds about right. Heaven knows I certainly feel a whole lot like that loony coyote cartoon character on a perpetual chase ending with a brick wall or anvil to the skull. The prey of my chase's pursuit is far more illusive than the coyote's feathered fowl and much trickier, too. The Road Runner's tricks are child's play compared to the feats performed by the object of my never-ending quest.
Health, the illusive prize I covet, has me chasing, running and pursuing it with all of the obsessive (and at times spastic) passion of Wile E. Coyote. I've tried to be level headed and learn from the foolish predator's mistakes. Avoid anvils. Look out for brick walls. Be careful of cliffs. Don't press big "DON'T PUSH HERE" buttons. But, alas, you know how thi story goes. The same place it did for Wile E. With a boulder falling from above, a river damn breaking open, lightening striking a nearby tree and an anvil falling from the clear blue sky - all at once.
Well, at least that's how it feels.
Right when I think I've finally found my prize - it's so close I can smell it, taste it and sometimes even see it - the earth drops out from underneath me. It's all a trick. Health escapes me faster than an animated road runner. Wellness evaporates into thin air.
The crushing reality of defeat takes me down every time in a cartoon like ending all too real to be comical. With a crash and a bang I end up under an anvil weighed down with hopelessness and despair. A brick wall knocks me face down into depression. The storm's thunder disrupts my confidence and the lightening pierces my peace.
But, just like Wile E. Coyote, I always end up back on two feet, standing and ready for the next round of the chase. No matter how hard and steep the fall, how heavy the blow or devastating the defeat the the show goes on. Another episode begins again the next day. My health series has yet to end at the anvil.
The explanation to Wile E. Coyote's death defying survival is simple. An author wrote his story that way.
The answer to my survival is precisely the same.
My author wrote my story this way. 
God, the author of my life's story, has kept the series of my life going through every season of health. His power has pulled me from pits of doom and sure death. God alone has put my feet on solid ground and bandaged my wounds. When I've been too weak to dig out of the boulders of sorrow that have nearly suffocated me, God has been the one to lift the burden and revive me with His eternal life. At the end of my every health episode He refreshes my spirit with springs of hope.
I don't know many more anvils have left to fall in my health series but I know who will be lifting the burden. I know how I'll end up back on my feet.
At the brick wall of my episode's defeat I know God will be there to meet me, restore me and revive me. Just like Wile E.