I am a wordy girl.
Often verbose.
Redundant.
Repetitive.
:) (see?)
However, since - who knows when????, I've found it most difficult to put thoughts together. To write something profound, relevant, even just plain ol' "real"...
Winter is no stranger. 52 winters of life have left me, overall, a wiser, more settled woman. I live in cold region. Snow is expected - it is, after all, a significant part (in my lifetime of experiences) of what makes "winter" WINTER. (I'm sure Arizona winters are wonderful - I just like the contrast of seasons in the Midwest)
This Winter, however, I've found myself caught up in "survival" mode. Nothing earth shattering. Nothing life & death to warrant that "fight" or "flight" thing. Nonetheless, it's been a battle raging deep within my soul - the enemy has been a dark shroud of "depression" or "discouragement" or "body sickness" or "fragility" or a stewed-combination thereof that seems ever-present, ever-hovering over every lovely, fleeting moment of light that eeks it's way through the mud.
I know I am not alone. I know the One I love and serve is with me. I know this because He said so. Certainly not because I've been sensitive to "feel" Him, these days. No, indeed, these days I'm trusting that He is with me because - simply - He SAID so.
I'm choosing to trust He's got my back & those of my dear family's - because HE SAID SO.
The problem, therein, lies in the inability to CONCENTRATE long enough to READ HIS PROMISES enough to STAND upon them.
Numb.
Scattered.
Is this depression?
I look around - at my family - and am overwhelmed with the enormity of CHANGE that is oft, seemingly, reeling out-of-control. Elders changing so quickly they resemble only little of what I knew - some changes resulting in more mellow versions of the former, some changes resulting in operating with far less social boundaries than before- which requires much patience - and thick-skinned-expectations: it is not healthy for me to take personally the accusation from a parent that I am "mocking" the other parent for not remembering or seeing. Especially considering, I would probably end up in jail for protecting that parent from someone who were to mock said parent... yet the look of disbelief and accusation was unmistakable. Broke my heart. A gajillion pieces fractured and exploded all over the place.
My parents are changing, before my eyes, there's not a stinking thing I can do about it , but adapt. Be available. Love. Love. Love. Breathe them in, because there are fewer days together. To accept them in whatever "state" they are in. To celebrate who they are now, rather than grieve over who I've known them to be being stolen from me - from us. Half full eyes. Half full eyes.
My adult child(ren) is (are) broken. An aching heart is fractured and is trying to recover from being confirmed that "dissolving" marriage is not worth working & fighting for.
My grandchild is broken. His little heart is missing one, when with the other. All sense of "normalcy" is gone. Two households. Two homes. Two separate, lonely lives. Two loving parents, with so much love to give, wounded, so wounded that "cancer" of the relationship has progressed too far to make the "last ditch effort" to try.to.make.it.work. Easier (though so painful) to "move out & move on".
Loving them all, I watch, in disbelief, as two who love each other and are best friends (yes they still say that) act so. Yet they are choosing to do their own thing - child will, of course he will - adapt. He will adapt. He will adapt. I can do nothing but love them. Pray for them. Be available in any way I can be. That's it. No "parent band aid" is gonna fix this "boo boo"... not this time. So I let it go & let it be. And it breaks my heart. A gajillion pieces fractured and exploded all over the place.
I remember being a curious child. Southern US gave plenty opportunities to see the miracles of Nature. Caterpillars & cocoons hanging, bat-like, off of lush, swaying, weeping willows - were simply marvelous things. Young, impatient and determined to "free" the dangling creatures from "prison", I'm sad to admit, I may have actually KILLED a caterpillar/butterfly (one or three) by "freeing"the creature OUT of it's cocoon - too soon. It was not my job to do so. By ever-so-gently-tearing-open-the-pod- by doing so, I prohibited the very growth cycle of the creature - the very "vehicle" that would allow the transforming butterfly to develop wing strength enough to FLY, once it had fought, stretched, strained, struggled, and finally BROKEN THROUGH the tightly-woven-web. I, in my honest desire to "rescue", actually Hurt. like dead. Only because I FREED THE CREATURE BEFORE it's GODinNatureDesigned STRUGGLE strengthened it enough to survive in the "outside world".
Not to say these kids didn't struggle. But the kind of goal, of focus, of intent to make it work - where the each gave a concerted - 200% effort, in harmony, in agreement, in one-accord, with like-mind, trusting, open, open, open to each other, willingness to speak in love, to endure pain to grow through transition, grow through openness, forbidding oneself the luxury of sweeping "it" under the rug - and facing, facing, facing all the "stuff" that has fractured this relationship . That kind of struggle didn't happen... not long enough to create a beautiful, colorful, lasting relationship that would fly free of the challenges and temptations of life.
My spouse woke up. a month ago. woke up. Awakenings in our home. A year and a half of "sleep". A year and a half of "slumber". A year and a half of Present in the Flesh, but Absent in the Mind. A year and a half of our marriage, his relationship with our son - while living in the "pause" button. A year and a half gone, not accounted for, and a month ago - he woke up.
I'd like to say I looked hard enough at what he was going through to say that I recognized clinical depression.
I didn't.
It made me sad. angry. sad. alone. It broke my heart. A gajillion pieces fractured and exploded all over the place. made me broken. made me sad. made me.
Therein was part of the problem.
me.
me didn't love he enough to intervene. (he ain't a butterfly)
maybe I did love him enough - I think I had too much on my plates to see enough to do so... he is, after all, getting leftovers of my life, these days...
He - the fun-loving, thoughtful, kind man I married long ago, has returned. He surprises me by walking up to me & gently patting my shoulder. He moved from his recliner to my loveseat & sat beside me, because he wanted to. not expecting anything. just because he wanted to. Numb doesn't touch. Numb doesn't interact. Numb is numb is numb.
Now, I'm disarmed as I feel someone's eyes on me - looking up I'll see he's smiling at me. While preparing dinner, he's surprised me by walking up behind me and hugging me.... It's been a long time. I've since told my beloved of 18 years, I will physically pick up his 6' 5" self, throw him over my shoulder and cart him off to the doctor - IF there is a "next time".
I will not let him live in depression - without help - again. nope. I will love him enough to intervene - IF there is a next time.
My baby boy is a young man. A great kid. Scholar. Kind. Funny. Calls himself a nerd. Loves God and is not ashamed. Loves people and is not ashamed. Loves parents & is certainly not ashamed to lavish us with kisses & hugs in front of who-knows-who.... Loves tennis, & table tennis & basketball & supporting friends in their sports and all things involving sports & other people. Is fit. Is growing stronger. Loves deeply, feels passionately and is well-loved and respected. My baby boy/young man oft feels alone in a crowd. I know, all to well, that pain. It kills me to think he hurts so. He feels often like a 3rd wheel, outsider, friend but not best friend and longs for the closeness of someone to really care about him, to call him to discover how he's doing. to know he matters to the planet... I watch, as an outsider, as he stretches his wet wings, struggling on that cocoon of "future" self - and, carefully, I restrain myself to let him struggle. I'll watch, but I strive, work hard to allow him to learn the tough lessons without my intervention. And I struggle with the balance in all that: parenting vs. enabling. I'm so proud of him, let him know, and desire him to learn to SEE himself the way he is seen by the One who matters, who made him to be whatever it is He made him to be... he will survive and flourish - I am sure of it!
I've been fighting some sort of "sick" since before Christmas. depleted reserves, maybe? but I feel fragile and a sense of impending "darned if I do & darned if I don't" - I want to protect my family from all this sickness I've been fighting - so I "stay away" from my elders, which frustrates them, I'm sure. I'll do the work, but won't hang to visit. Don't want to SHARE these things I've been repeatedly hit with for the past 2 months. and I keep getting hit.
And seasons transition into seasons and life goes on and on and on.
And sometimes words don't come (since Jan 16) and sometimes, just when you think you have nothing at all to say.. sometimes they just come pouring forth, each one accompanied by a piece of light sent to illuminate the dark fragments,that will serve, once again, to bring restoration to a weary soul.
The situations are no different - just a deep-seated, lovingly-nagging reminder that "He will work", "He will work", indeed, "HE WILL WORK all things (yes ALL THINGS) together for GOOD for those who love Him, who are called according to HIS PURPOSE"...
Even broken people, broken lives.. He will mend, as only He can.
"Lord, thank You for your Peace. When in deep despair, you bring comfort. It is not my own striving or capabilities that have brought this to light - it is only, only, only Your sweet love that reaches into the heart of me - giving me life and light and setting me free.
Thank You.
Thank You.
I love you.
Amen."
While this may not be profound. It is, absolutely, REAL.
Oh, and I am a wordy girl, indeed.
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