So what. . .

I see a lot of messages on Facebook about depression these days.  Suddenly, at this point in my life, it has knife stabbing meaning.  I never thought of myself in that way, but now it feels a lot closer to home than it used to be.

I don't even know how you define depression.  Do I feel suicidal?  Absolutely not.  Mostly it just feels like being covered with a heavy, wet blanket.  It is hard to think, hard to move, even hard to speak at times.  I used to think I was just having a "pity party", but I think it is more than feeling sorry for myself.  There is something deep and dark that pulls you back to all of  those "pitiful poor me" thoughts, something that won't allow you to let go and move on.  I used to think I wallowed in my problems because I chose to do that.  Now I am not so sure that the decision is all mine any more.


Talk to someone, they tell me.  But when you feel that no one else "gets" where you are at, it seems rather pointless.  So the routine "I am fine." answer is always at the tip of my tongue.  For I find that others not only don't understand, but mostly they don't care.  Not because they are mean or cruel,but because they, too, are dealing with a very full plate.  I don't blame them.  I understand.  They can't fix my situation.  We all deal with life and death, pain and illness, family issues, wayward children, disappointment, fear, and the list seems endless.  Walk a mile in someone else's shoes, the saying goes, if you want to fully understand their suffering.  I think there is a lot of truth in that.

But also, we should never discount another's pain and circumstances.  While not the same as mine, they hurt just the same.  It does not help to tell them they are "strong", because nobody is strong all the time.  We simply rise to the challenges before us when it is necessary.  And then we collapse into a well of despair.  It is like wearing lead boots and hoping you never end up near the water.

Those of you who are care givers, or have been care givers, will understand.  There is a fine line to maintain your own life while caring for someone else.  And when it is someone you love, it is even more difficult.  I reek of selfishness for I want to run away and leave it all behind.  But responsibility, compassion, loyalty, and love keep that from happening.  Please don't disparage anyone when they do take that short time to get away and recoup, it is a necessity if they are to continue on.

I am most fortunate in that I have two special people in my life.  We have been friends for 14 years.  Although we each struggle with our own battles, we know and understand each other's battles also.  When I am down, the other two pick me up.  When I need a "talking to", I get that.  When I can't go one more step, they are there.  I am blessed.  When life sucks, we suck it up together.  We keep each other going.  When I am tempted to give in or give up, they yank me back into the real world.  Sometimes those who really care have to "slap you up along side the head" so your head settles back on straight.

Joy is there, but it seems so far away sometimes.  Life goes on.  I need to learn to live for today....ultimately that is all I have.  But I have the promise of life everlasting with my Savior that will beat anything I can imagine here on earth.  I can't imagine surviving my circumstances without that promise.  "Jesus Loves Me" is not just a song, it is the truth.  And when all else fails, it is that truth that you hang onto.

Just Writin' on the River Road

Tribute to Love

I attended a funeral recently.  I confess, I really dislike funerals.  Perhaps it is the sadness, even though we try to make it a celebration of the person's life.  Or it could be that that person will leave a hole in my life that can't be filled by any other.  Maybe it is facing my own eventual passing from this world.  What ever the reason, it isn't a place I like to be.

This funeral was somewhat different.  Was it sad?  Yes.  Will that person leave a void? Yes.  But it was a testimony in a number of ways of the true power of love.

You see, Amy was handicapped from the age of three months when she suffered a bout with menigities.  She was an answer to prayer...…..she did not die.  She became the commitment in her parent's lives for the next 45 years.  The love of a parent for a child is a difficult thing to describe.  Is it just a commitment, or a sacrifice, or does it go deeper?  In this case it became a lifestyle.  The love was tangible, real and never faked.  For Amy would never run into her parent's arms and tell them that she loved them, but she told them through her laughter and smiles.  She mourned her daddy when he passed away.  Her mother knew this even though Amy couldn't tell her.  Amy was a special testimony in and of herself.  Her parent's love for her has become a testimony to the rest of us.

The love of family is immeasurable.   Amy's family surrounded her.  Her parents, her siblings, her nephews and nieces were all a part of her life.  Her sister testified how much Amy had changed their lives, filled them with a compassion and caring that could have come no other way.  Experience is not only the best teacher, it is sometimes our only teacher.  Each experience with Amy would ultimately change each of them for the better.

Another part of the story is the love that this community had, not only for Amy, but for her family.  They supported them in the hard times, were there when a shoulder was needed for a good cry, loved them through thick and thin, and physically stepped in to help when they were overwhelmed.  It was never a sacrifice for anyone to become a part of Amy's life.  It was just done because that's what people do who love and care for each other.

Perhaps Amy's care was seen as a life long burden by some.  And it could easily have been that.  But for Amy's family it was a burden of joy.  Was it difficult?  I am sure they could tell you many stories of the hardships, the difficulties, the pain, or the fear that encased these last 45 years.  But they don't focus on that, they focus on the joy that Amy brought into their lives.

I only met Amy once.  She didn't seem extra special to me, but then I didn't know her personally.  But the look on her mother's face when she interacted with Amy was extraordinary.  When other's talked about her, it was with love and compassion.  There was understanding, kindness, consideration expressed by all those who did know her or her family.  She is a testimony to the difference that one life can make in this world.  One life that changes everything it comes in contact with, one life that will be sorely missed.

Even though I didn't know you, Amy, you have impacted my life in subtle ways.  I was sometimes almost jealous of the love others felt for you.  God now has His little girl.  She is whole and well, sitting in His lap for all eternity.  Thank you for changing my life.  God bless you always.

Just Writin' on the River Road