"Desperate days are the stepping stones on the path of light. They seems to be God's opportunity to provide our school of wisdom" ~S. Chadwick (from Steams in the Desert Devotional 3/25)
Just like that crooked little fence, nearly smothered in a heavy cloak of frozen drifts, I feel like only a fraction on myself is trudging on, able to stand. The rest is weighed down in a cold grasp of discouragement; heavy-laden with burdens.
In even admitting this comes the immediate sting of guilt.
I don't have children who are ill or diagnosed with some terrible disease.
I don't have husband who cheats on me, or won't provide.
I don't spend my nights awake, not knowing how we are going to pay the mortgage.
I don't fight the childhood demons of sexual abuse, neglect, worthlessness.
We are all in perfect health. I am surrounded by a family who loves me. I had a happy carefree childhood, an unpretentious Christian upbringing.
My " desperate days" comes from a yolk of concern, and disappointment in the lives' of others close to me.
Have you ever prayed and prayed for some kind of deliverernce in the life of someone else?
Two people in my life close to me are need of a real deliverence. One's is spiritual, the other is physical.
I am not publishing this to put myself out there as some kind of spiritual guru, or Saint.
I just feel like I should share how others burdens can weigh us down, as much as our own. Sometimes more, because it is out of our control. I am a roll- your- sleeves- up- and- do -it- kind- of -girl. It is frustrating to not see "progress" or a sure answer. I have commented about on my Poetic Sunday post on the poem Undone, that people don't seem to want to put themselves out there, for any length of time, for others. It easy to react initially to someone else in need. But as time goes on, so does our empathy.
It goes against our natural self-preservation nature to consistantly care and shoulder others burdens.
I felt so heavy, so tired, so not wanting to care anymore.
My prayers felt more like wishful thinking.
My faith was flat, and that old self doubt and insecurity set in.
Who am I to think I can have any insight or ability to make any difference?
From a practical stand point it seems pretty pointless and naive to pray. Almost superstitious, archaic.
I should say that for 9 1/2 years I have been home, not working, not volunteering, not even doing that much at my church. But since I was a little girl I have know I've the spiritual gift on intercessory prayer. I can't explain it. I feel this burden, I offer up simple prayers, and God gives me very specific insight into the lives, and the real root problems in the life of others, some of whom I don't even know that well.
Being a stay at home allows me the great perk of setting my own time and schedule. I can forget the housework and spend half a morning in Scripture, and in earnest prayer (with lots of interruptions from little people of course, but those are quickly taken care of thanks to sweetened cereal and TV).
The point is, while taking care of this home and children I have steadily grown in my own faith, an understanding of Christ, and tried to faithfully serve in taking on the burdens and needs of others through prayer.
This Wednesday a 7 inch blanket of snow snuffed out our budding spring. That snow seemed to snuff me out to. Not only was I depressed with the terrible weather, but depressed in general. I was sick of caring. To be honest I was having a crisis of faith, not really believing I would see an answer to those prayers I sought with tears.
I did find a tremendous amount of encouragement from a friend that day.
But the blues continued. And as is always the case, with my particular type of "mood disorder" for lack of better word, depression and lethargy goes into persistant irritation and rage. I hate everything, and clean like a maniac.
Since then I have aplogized to my understanding family, and you should see how how neat my house is.
I'm still "pressing on toward the mark, to receive the prize" as the Apostle Paul says.
I feel better.
I told another dear "sister" my discouragement, and she has been praying for me. Sharing my problems is not something I am comfortable with, but God has shown me I should let others pray for me; its just my pride.
I took a double dose of my Lexipro. Being on a mild anti-depressant in not something I am comfortable with, but God has shown me I should seek help medicinally for my problems; its just my pride.
I made my self pray and read The Bible when I did not want to, and it did not seem to help.
When grumpy with the kids, husband, house, the world, I lost myself in a good book. Sometimes its the only way to shut off my whirling negative over-analyzing thoughts.
We each carry our own cross the bear. While carrying it we have the opputurnity to expand and grow in the likeness of Christ, or inwardly, selfishly shrivel.
Our journey is a little golden life thread that we have to weave. How we serve, how we cope, what gives us joy, what breaks our heart, is so beautifully different from one person to the other.
Life is much too hard. Our own abilities so pathetically unable to accomplish anything of eternal worth. Seeking God's will and strength is my only assurance that I will get it right.