I Love the Words, "AND THEN"

I consider myself a strong woman.  I consider myself a strong, Christian woman.  I am not emotional.  I am, and always have been, a fighter.  But recently, out of nowhere, there was the proverbial, straw that broke the camel's back.  I would also like to say, I am the world's worst at asking for help or talking about things.  I help others, and I rarely need help.  I am not bragging, I wish it were not this way, but it is a reality.  I wake up every day and pray and read God's word and ask him for the opportunity to make someone's day better because he created me.  If that opportunity is not clearly presented, then I make it happen.  Even if it is the tiniest gesture of putting someone's favorite drink on their porch and shooting them a text.  That doesn't make me good, it makes God good, and me his hands and feet; and in turn, that brings me joy.  Service is my spiritual gift, but it is not my love language.  My love language is time.   Nothing gives me more joy in this busy world than for someone I love to spend time with me!  NOTHING. But when you are not feeling strong, and you don't want others to know, you push them away, and it makes things worse.  By worse, I mean "crying at the drop of a hat, thinking about how useless you are, how your children's pain is your fault, and how the world would be better without you in it" worse. I never thought I'd kill myself, but I did think, "if God chose to take me now that would be ok, better for everyone and especially better for me." I was selfish and that's not me.

I was barely holding on and I told no one.  I ignored phone calls and texts from friends.  I would go to bed right after I cleaned the kitchen from our evening meal, and even my husband had no idea.  I went to a counselor, I went to my doctor, I changed my medicine, but I spoke to no one about how I felt.  My youngest had just lost his room mate in a horrible way and had moved back home with us.  My days were consumed with watching him grieve fiercely and I wondered if he would make it.  HE was barely hanging on and I was not about to tell anyone I was feeling the same way.  I have one friend, who is like a mother to me, and she recognized it.  But when we would get together, all I could do was set and stare at her with tears running down my face.  I had no explanation as to why.  I felt weak and useless, tired and sad. Hoping at any moment God would just take me. 

I tried to give my son verses that would help him through the day; but God used them for me as well. In silence I was barely holding on, but I was holding. Holding on to John 16:33..In me you will have peace, in the world you will have trouble, but take heart, I have overcome the world.  And John 16:20 You will grieve, but your grief will turn to joy. I had lost sight that I could be happy and sad at the same time.  Good things can come out of death, and happy moments can be found in sorrow.  

I am so thankful for that one friend. Even more thankful that I never felt God had forsaken me or left me behind!  But it was all I could do to respond to her or pray to him.  Satan was doing a number on me.  Words like unworthy, unclean, useless, unloved, and unrighteous swept through my heart and mind all day and night.  Why I never told my husband I cannot say.  I know he would do all he could to help me, but honestly it was all we could do to care for our son so I hid it.  I would give compassion all day to him, and wish for death to come and take me at night.  I would dwell in the Psalms like 103 "the life of mortals is like grass and flowers of the field that flourish, but when the wind blows it is gone and remembered no more."  There is not one thing beautiful about reality when you are barely holding on.  Life feels ugly and useless, and you are "adding to it" in your mind because you have no hope and reality is too strong.

We have friends who lost a son to depression in 2013 and their boy was the most multi-talented human being to walk the planet.  He could created anything. And the best way for me to describe how I felt, is by a life size art exhibit he created of a man who had lost it all.  The piece is beautiful in its own way.  I remember carrying it one time, and it was light because it was hollow.  Just how I felt inside. Not to mention, as a Christian, I knew Christ died so I may live and I felt guilty about that as well.  How could I have been given this beautiful life and want to leave it?  How could I be so weak and useless to others when so many counted on me? I wasn't living.

I have always hated to lose and everyday was a defeat. I lived in a deficit. Jeremiah 8:18 says "you who are my comforter in sorrow, my heart is faint within me". I longed to feel better but I could not see it.  I longed to live but wanted to die.  Our son is a pianist, and our home has been filled with music of all kinds for years.  He was not playing because of his depression and I longed for him to even set at the piano and even consider a note. I would listen to Christian music & bawl, I'd visit a group of people I love with special needs thinking that would lift my heart toward God, and I couldn't walk in the room.  There was little hope and my world was shrinking around me, becoming smaller and smaller and me being ok with that reality.  Less to deal with, less to confront, less to press down on me.     
  I wasn't afraid at home, until I was.

Jacob got worse despite the counseling, and we would hang on by a thread until his next appointment or medication change.  I would hate to leave the house because I was terrified when I came home I would find him dead and I knew what I was going to do if that happened. So, I didn't leave.  But I also didn't sleep when he was gone.  Things were getting harder and then I read the 11th chapter of John one night, I needed to be reminded that Jesus too was sometimes sad.  He wept. I needed validation that sadness was alright.  Then as I read, I got to verse 40:  "Jesus said, did I not tell you that if you believe, you will see the glory of God?"  

I can't explain it.  But God validated my grief, my fear, and even my life with those verses. He said to me in his own way, that "it was going to be alright, he had things in his hands, I just needed to continue on, and he would again make life a gift and not a burden." There was not confetti, balloons, or an audible voice.  No party, no instant joy.  But there was hope and there was grace in the reality of my situation.  I slept well that night and when my husband left for work, Jacob got up and played piano.  HE PLAYED HIS PIANO! You have no idea the joy that came with that.  You can't, because I had no idea.  Immediately, I got the simplest of texts from my friend and all it said was, "Have a good day, I am praying for you and I love you." That day wasn't a snap.  It was a struggle like the others but I felt hopeful.  I felt things might actually be alright and we may have joy again.

   

However,  I will tell you what did change:  I was not afraid any longer.  I lived on Isaiah 41:10 for a solid month. Fear not, for I am with you; be not dismayed, for I am your God; I will strengthen you, I will help you, I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.  Satan could give whatever obstacle he wanted to in my life but I was not afraid.  There were still tears and doubt but God's word sustained me and his love gave me strength. Each day was better.  It has been hard and some days are still tough, I won't lie.  But Romans 15:13 is so true for me today, "May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace in believing, so that by the power of the Holy Spirit you may abound in hope".  I am in no way challenging life, asking satan to "bring it on" because of my winning attitude, but I at least know all of those "uns" in my life are gone.  I am worthy and loved by my Father; and there is music again in our home. 

                                                                                    I love you friend...