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Amidst the turmoil of the last few months, a small miracle has occurred. I have been published in the bestselling Zondervan Women's Devotional Bible. The Bible, formerly known as "the pink Bible" has been transformed with a funky new green cover.
Lawn chairs sunk down into the sand along the Lake Michigan beach. The Gary, Indiana, shoreline was covered with onlookers as the waves roared and the sunshine warmed our faces. Just the right temperature--in the air and in my heart.
My parents and I were attending an air show with aerial stunts that defied imagination. I was transfixed, captivated, and content. It may have seemed a small pleasure to some of those plopped around me, a beer in one hand, a cell phone in another. But to me it brought extreme pleasure.
There is so much joy to be had in the calm after the storm.
An update
It was one of those workweeks where everything piles up, and a multitude of projects and meetings and deadlines loom, and Suzie starts snapping at innocent people who interrupt.
And so it was that with knotted shoulders and bags hastily packed, I jumped in my Mercury Mystique and hit the cruise control with the throng down the highway, on my way to Portage, Indiana.
My parents house offers respite and comfort, but this time I was slightly unnerved, remembering...
Remembering just three months ago, when my visit found me writhing in mental and emotional pain. It was as if my fight with depression officially ended there--I could no longer summon the energy to pretend it was not winning. I collapsed.
I remember lying in the bed I am sleeping in this weekend and feeling powerless to get up. My attempts to rally positive thoughts were furtive and almost daily calls to the Dr. were necessary to find the right medication, to give me a dosage that would ensure sleep, to make sure I would not do something foolish.
American Poet Jane Kenyon struggled with bipolar disorder and grave depressions that lasted for months on end. She talks of cutting herself completely off from society and not being able to call a plumber for repairs. Not being able to do the simplest things. And that's how those five weeks were for me. Just getting dressed was an accomplishment.
The interlude seems both distant and not-so-far behind me now. I am careful, but not afraid with my health. I am optimistic and sometimes energetic. I struggle, but I am regaining my strength.
The difference is this: when the darkness came on before, I would berate myself and blame myself for my illness. Although this is one of the most counterproductive things a depressed person can do, most of us are bonafide perfectionists: we simply don't know another way.
My Turning Point
Several years ago, I was reintroduced to the concept of who God is. I prayed a pray when I was a child, inviting Jesus to save me from my sins, so I thought I knew God. And I did--but not really. I didn't realize that this person, my heavenly Father, was not out to get me. I knew much of his holiness and too little of his love. I felt I never did win his approval, though I tried very hard.
Until I stopped trying, and the real heavenly Father showed up. It was at this point that I finally accepted the grace he offers me. I am still learning to do this today. Because, truth be told, he does accept me. Yes, he's even wild about me! Nothing I can do will change this. I can follow this amazing God because I love him. Not to prove anything.
And so, this time, when the torrent of emotions wracked my body, mind and soul, I offered myself grace. There were days when Jesus watched as I lay there in bed, seeking to comfort me. And I knew for sure he expected nothing more out of me that day. I had nothing to give.
There were days when I was able to get up and shower and go for a walk, and he smiled at my efforts. Even though they seemed meager from the outside looking in.
And there were times when I was able to summon the energy to drive to a nearby nursing home to visit someone recovering from surgery and just sit there, or read a funny story, or listen to her heart. And I felt he knew what it took for me to get there and he was pleased.
At times, I had overwhelming, negative thoughts, asking myself why God was allowing my depression. At times I just rested and waited for it to pass. At times I was so anxious I wanted to be through, even though I would not end my life.
And he knew. And he watched. And he moved. I am on my way to a place where these memories will become more removed--but not the memory of embracing his grace. This will stay put. His mercies are new every morning.
I smile as I type this because I could not live without them--and neither could you.
