a little place to think
a little flower growing
a little hope
breaking
through the thick bark of winter
***
little yellow shards
of hope
breaking out all
over
everyone should
have a
little
“As surely as the sun rises,
he will appear;
he will come to us like the winter rains,
like the spring rains that water the earth.”
~Hosea 6:3
red bird crosses
the gritty path downward
trodden heavy
laden mindless in a heart that knows
how to be mindful
in the forgotten
places
green things poking
through decay and crunchy
layers of bitter
winter wondering when
it ends
green things reaching
weaving
intertwining
to the sun pulling
up through aching
warmth
lost in the wonder
worry and choking
fear and distrust I beg
for a remnant of the cross
I knew and faintly
remember promises of
omnipresence
and truth in
small, small places
I beg to see the cross again
I look
up and
I
do
Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? Shall trouble or hardship or persecution or famine or nakedness or danger or sword? . . . No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us. For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord.
Romans 8:35, 37-39
The winter is long and dreary, here in a place where winters are supposed to be just that.
But this winter . . .
. . . this one is different.
In the midst of this winter, I am weary.
Not just any weary, but the weariness and heaviness of a soul trapped and afraid.
As a Christian, it is the sort of weariness I’ve struggled with for two decades, crying out to God, clinging to His leather-covered Word, feeling the stinging, false accusation of “not having enough faith to handle it” creep through my arms and into my chest as once again I wander the desert known to many of us as depression.
Anxiety.
Panic attacks.
Why do I dare blog about such things?
Why lay it all out there for everyone to see?
Because I know, after blogging about it numerous times already, untold numbers of others struggle with the craze and walking-alone-in-the-pitch-black uncertainty of that pesky little neurochemical called seratonin (or lack thereof).
If your soul is weary today . . . if your heart cries out to Him and you feel on the edge . . . know you are not alone.
Know it is appropriate and necessary and even of the utmost importance to seek help if you cannot climb out of the pit yourself.
Feeling like I was nearing a crisis point a few weeks ago, I did just that. And with the help of friends who are also on this journey and my doctor, I am starting to see the light of day again. (Many online resources are listed in the bottom right corner of this blog page.)
I am starting to lose the fear of leaving my home–literally and figuratively.
I built not one, but three snowmen with my sons yesterday, a task which on other days might seem insurmountable. But yesterday and today, the task morphed into a blessing.
And I am grateful.
So.
Very.
Grateful.
For a husband who loves me.
For friends who care.
For modern medicine.
For God, who knows the depths of our weary souls and helps us find the way to our families, our selves, and Him again. If you doubt God knows how rotten we feel, read the scripture I found below, and know that God knows.
Praise God, He knows!
”I’m feeling terrible—I couldn’t feel worse!
Get me on my feet again. You promised, remember?
When I told my story, you responded; train me well in your deep wisdom.
Help me understand these things inside and out so I can ponder your miracle-wonders.
My sad life’s dilapidated, a falling-down barn; build me up again by your Word.
Barricade the road that goes Nowhere; grace me with your clear revelation.
I choose the true road to Somewhere, I post your road signs at every curve and corner.
I grasp and cling to whatever you tell me; God, don’t let me down!
I’ll run the course you lay out for me if you’ll just show me how.”
~Psalm 119:25-31, TMV
