I've had headaches for as long as I can remember. Decades now. They range from mildly annoying to downright debilitating. Mostly, they inhabit the space right behind my nose and eyeballs. It's a pressure system that pushes against my face, constantly reminding me that something is not right.

As a kid, I would mention these headaches to my pediatrician at each annual visit. He would tell me they were growing pains and not to worry. If that were true, I concluded that I would probably grow up to be the tallest woman with the biggest head in the world. Each year he'd say the same thing, and each year I'd leave his office dissatisfied, knowing that I could expect more "growing pains" in my skull. Aside from this annual complaint, I never talked about my headaches. I assumed everyone was growing and, thus, experiencing some sort of pain with which they had to contend. Who was I to complain?

My pain tolerance was high and I knew how to compensate for the headaches and work around them. I believed if I acknowledged them, I would make them real. At the point of naming them, I would go to my room, turn off the lights, lay a wet towel on my face, and be stuck alone with "the enemy" for the rest of my life. So, I never named them, never talked about them, and never sought any help. Even as an adult, I kept relatively quiet about my headaches because I believe "life is short" and the last thing I want is to spend my days talking about my pain or to be known as the "woman with the headaches." Besides, it's not like I have cancer, or some real illness, like countless people out there who really do deserve our sympathy and support. For Pete's sake, I just have headaches!

And yet, the pain refuses to be denied.

I am married to Michael, a very patient and kind man who, despite my headaches, seems to adore me. We have four children, ages 12 through 5. I try hard not to let the headaches interfere with our family life. And yet, how could they not? The crew knows I suffer with them, and they are all very understanding. I usually warn them if it's a bad day and I don't have the energy to rise above it. Everyone pitches in to cover for me during those times. (I must admit, it's humbling to have your 5-year-old try to take care of you.)

As a Christian, my aching head and heart is wrapped around the truth that the Creator of the universe loves me and cares about my every circumstance. That belief has given me the courage to try to understand why my head always feels as if it's about to explode.

I began the assault on "the enemy" three years ago, around my 39th birthday (okay, so it took me awhile). At once, I entered the world of doctors, CAT scans, waiting rooms, diets, and chart keeping. I ran from ear, nose, and throat specialists to internists to allergists to chiropractors to nutritionists to holistic medical doctors with detailed charts of pain, head x-rays, supplements, vitamins, diets, and medications. One time I even lay half naked on a table with twangy music playing in the background as a doctor placed long needles into my body, from head to toe, telling me the acupuncture would make a difference. I freaked out.

So after a two-year roller coaster ride filled with more disappointment than hope, I found myself in a church with a headache, some friends, and a new idea. As I listened to the preacher, I decided I should be "prayed over." I had prayed about my pain privately with God over the years, but to be "prayed over" wasn't a part of my spiritual experience, and it seemed a bit vulnerable and, well, weird. But somehow, after the service I found myself standing under some pine trees outside the church, surrounded by friends, with a preacher reading from the Bible, "If you ask Me anything in My name, I will do it" (John 14:13).

I particularly liked the word "anything," since "anything" could definitely include "Eileen's headaches." We stood in the morning sun, and in the midst of the heartfelt petitions, authentic dialogue and tears, the preacher suddenly turned to me and asked, "Would you have the strength to endure the headaches if God chose not to take them away?"

What? With tears in my eyes, I told him I had enough faith to believe that God could heal this little head of mine, and asked if he would forgo giving God options and just get to the total healing.

The preacher smiled and said, "Eileen, maybe this is about trusting Him. And, instead of bearing the headaches alone, perhaps you need to know that Jesus is bearing the pain with you."

I blinked at him, remembering one doctor visit where I had endured a throbbing two-hour wait sitting next to a man I later learned had played the role of Jesus in a local church play. That particular day was one of my worst, and I'd spent half of it crying out to God, asking Him where He was in all of this. The "Jesus" in the waiting room reassured me that God was with me in my pain, sitting right next to me.

So as our pleas went up that Sunday morning, I sensed God's Spirit coming down. I wouldn't know what else to call it. But it filled me and I relaxed.

Until I awoke the next morning with the worst headache I could remember.

I'd finally got the "healing prayer thing" done, and it made me worse? I began to unravel. Why wouldn't God give me relief? What was this faith thing anyway? What about that verse the preacher read?

Then a question popped into my head, "Will you trust Me no matter what?" There was that word again. At that moment I realized I had a decision to make. Would I trust Him? Would I trust Him if I never got to experience a week without headaches? Would I trust Him if I got worse?

I'm not sure what made me answer so quickly, but I did. The string of questions running through my aching head seemed stupid all of a sudden. How could I not trust Him? How could I not trust the God of wonders who professed to adore me? My eyes filled and in the midst of another excruciating headache, I surrendered. Finally.

For the rest of that morning and ever since, I have felt no physical relief. But I do feel something more profound than the pain: peace. I now know I'm not alone. And even as my skull continues to ache, I know I never will be.

Editor's Note: To date, Eileen's doctors have been unable to determine a definitive source of her headaches. A neurologist she visited in the spring believes it is a migraine that has several elusive trigger points, so Eileen is trying new medications to address the problem. Meanwhile, the pain continues.