Post-partum Depression, Part 3

This morning in my prayer closet (AKA, the shower), I had a remarkable conversation with God and I came to the realization that I needed to give myself permission to get better. Isn't that strange?

All this time I was praying for the odd combination of numbness and pain to cease, to have it taken from me so that I could get on with my life as I'd hoped it would be. Over the last few months my prayer changed from, "Help me! Take this pain away!" to, "Lord, take me through this," to, "Lord, have your way in me," to, simply, "Be glorified."

Thing is, I've been re-discovering how God uses the difficulties in my life to refine me as a Christian. Not just as a woman, or a daughter, or a mom, or Steve's wife (even though we've been inseparable for nearly 14 years), but as a child of God. God, as my refiner, turns up the heat now and then to burn off the junk he won't use. The fire hurts. It burns and blisters and I cry out in pain even as He re-creates who I am IN HIM. The Refiner holds me tightly in His grip even as I fight the process. I don't need my hang-ups, they can be burned away. I don't need past hurts lived over and over in my mind, nor do I need to let current trials define who I am in Christ. Fact is, I'm a blood-bought princess, a daughter of the Most High, not worthy to be saved but saved nonetheless. Mercy flows over old wounds and I'm healed. Love poured out red at the cross.

I know this might all seem like some weird code for those of you who are not in Christ, and maybe it is! But those of you who DO know Him know what I'm talking about: hope of healing is hope for what we haven't experienced yet, because the PROMISE of healing is all over the Bible. Not just my healing from depression, but from the hurt of disregard, from the pain of rejection and the bitterness of betrayal, to the deep throbbing ache that comes out of mourning. Healing comes. Not in my time, but in His time. And it comes over and over, even as we find we're bleeding afresh.

I think God allows heartbreak in this life so that He can re-shape us, re-work our hearts into vessels He will fill. If the heart is never broken, how can all the selfishness come out? How can we be rid of the junk we invest our hearts in, if they're locked tight against God? I've locked myself up inside for so long . . . and I really thought I was protecting myself, because depression is a self-focused thing.


The reality is, the only way for me to be free of the "me-ness" was for the lockbox I'd made my heart into to be gently chisled open by the wounded hands of Christ. Even as Jesus held me in my pain, I held the hammer that would drive the nails through his flesh and into the cross. MY sin (and yours) held him there. He died. He was buried and when He rose He bought for us new life.

I am humbled. I am brought low in the knowledge that the King of Heaven did this because He doesn't want to part with me, but to be with me for eternity.

I am undone, and yet made whole. A lock box may be whole, but it is locked.

A chipped, marred, uneven and imperfect vessel is more useful than a locked box without a key.

Fill me up and pour me out, Jesus, as imperfect a vessel as I am. I have no need for locks any longer.

You bought my freedom. Please help me not to waste it.

A picture of me

This was originally posted as a note on Facebook, on  Monday, April 25, 2011.

Time to move my writing all to one place, huh? 

The realization took my breath away, literally stopping me in my tracks halfway to the breakfast table.

My girl and I had just gone round and round and round . . . she was crying, screaming, stomping and generally throwing a fit because she'd gotten something in her eye. I kept telling her I needed to take a look, touch her face, make sure she was okay. She calmed down, then the stinging returned and the jumping crying fit started over again. For nearly half an hour we were at it: me, trying to make sure she was not cut or injuring herself further, she, trying to rub her eye and relieve the pain.

Finally she'd cried it out, whatever it was, calmed down, and we were able to get on with making our scrambled eggs.

I finished cooking our meal and was bringing it to the table when I discovered, once again, that God has a great sense of humor. The realization that left me breathless was this: the screaming crying stomping fit I'd been trying to quell was a perfect picture of how I have acted when wounded, though the struggle is internal.

Often in my life, I find that when something hurts I call for help (through prayer), help comes (like me going to my daughter, my Savior comes to me), and I fight the help. I calm down long enough to allow Him to touch the hurting places, but only long enough for the pain to start again, then I start crying and throwing a fit (of sorts). WHY do I do that? Why do any of us do that?! We ask God to help us and when He shows up, we won't let Him touch our wound. It's madness

I'm going through a Bible study with some girls from church--it's on freedom in Christ--and we're tackling the topic of forgiveness. The emotional mess I've found myself in with my PPD has helped to open my eyes to old junk I was hanging on to, specifically--unforgiveness. That was another breathless realization. I honestly thought I'd dealt with some of the old hurts, but in reality I'd buried the pain under performance and a well-polished mask. Yuck. This was not a place I expected to go when I started this study. I was *hoping* for freedom from the depression. Fortunately for me, my Savior knows what I *truly* needed--to let go of past hurts through forgiveness--and He was faithful to lead me to it.

So as I ponder this truth, it brings me to another . . . the reason I haven't been able to sing. Of course, I still have the ability, such as it is, but the desire and real passion for music and praising God has been absent for almost a year. I haven't "felt" it but couldn't put my finger on it. It was like every time I went to lay down the offering something was holding me back, barring me from the altar.

“Truly I tell you, if anyone says to this mountain, ‘Go, throw yourself into the sea,’ and does not doubt in their heart but believes that what they say will happen, it will be done for them. Therefore I tell you, whatever you ask for in prayer, believe that you have received it, and it will be yours. And when you stand praying, if you hold anything against anyone, forgive them, so that your Father in heaven may forgive you your sins.” 

Mark 11:23-25

I had been asking for healing, but not truly believing it would come. My frustrated prayer that changed from "Help me!" to "Be Glorified!" let me see how I was scratching scars and keeping them open, raw, prone to infection. I was rubbing my wounds instead of inviting my Savior to come in and heal them, just like Rachael rubbed her eye when it hurt. Wow. I was carrying hurt around that was keeping me out of the throne room, away from the altar, like when you try to walk through a doorway holding a broom horizontally in front of you, it bars the way. Wow again.

So again I'm laying it down again , and will continue to do so. It's the only way I can re-focus my attention on what truly matters here: giving my Savior what He's asked of me.

Everything.

Promised Land

I keep thinking about the Israelites, and wonder how they felt when they were told--after 40 years of wandering around that mountain--that they were finally allowed to enter the land promised to their forefathers.

Were they excited, or was the concept of the promised land--and the memory of slavery--so far removed from them that they didn't care or understand?

Maybe that's why I'm not more excited? The idea that I get to go home to my babies is still just so unreal to me. I trust the Lord; I'm doing research and making plans, hubby and I are crunching the numbers and making out a new budget, and things are looking good. It's just so unreal . . . but in that dream-like happy way.

I love my kids so much. I love my husband so much. I serve the biggest best God ever. And I love HIM so much!!

Good things come to those who wait . . .

I can hardly believe I'm writing this post.

The last week has been like a blur . . . I had this feeling . . . then there were two blue lines on a stick . . . then my husband said what I've been praying he'd say for the last four years; "Looks like you're coming home to stay, because we can't afford 3 in daycare!"

I get to stay home with my babies.

I feel like I've lived an entire life since then, and it's only been 5 days.

I'm not jumping up and down like I thought I would be. I'm just happy. Peaceful. Excited, but nervous. Temperate? I don't know what to call this feeling . . . the Joy of the Lord? Probably, but it's a lot quieter than I thought it would be. I have more patience for my almost-four-year-old and her grumpies, and with my 13 month old as he develops his own strong-willed temperament. I have more patience with my DH. I have peace. I feel humbled by the grace that has been given to me. I am allowed another child, and the chance to do my best raising the two I already have.

I still have to fight the fear that comes with change--that's never easy, of course. There are all these, "What if" situations that pop up in my brain, but they're all based on fear . . . and not a healthy fear of the Lord, either.

It's taking time to sink in, like our spring thaw . . . I get to stay home with my babies. I'm still not jumping up and down. In my imagination there were more exclamation points in this post. :-) I sure smile a whole lot more, that's for sure.
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Something just occurred to me . . . very soon I won't have to listen to the CEO of our company curse every time he looks at the clock as he walks by my desk. I won't miss that. Not one bit.
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I'm going to start really digging in to Proverbs 31, and will post my observations here as I go. I want to be that woman for God, for my kids and for my husband.

How am I going to break this to my boss? :-) I know I'm going to meet with opposition in many areas, perhaps mostly here at work, but I honestly don't care. My family is supportive and so are the friends we've told. I'm sure a lot of people will think we're nuts: lots have asked whether we were "done" when we got pregnant with my DS, but I couldn't really answer except to say, "I don't know" or "For now."

I just feel so blessed, so undeservedly blessed. It really is humbling.

I get to stay home with my babies.

My precious, precious Jesus:
I'm sure you know better than I the gift that you've given me. I can't imagine why or how you think I can do this . . . I know you'll help me. I know it's going to be hard. I also know that it's going to be worth all the tears and heartache and sacrifice. You are worth it. You alone are worthy of my praise, and I pray that I can give it to you fully and without reservation. Thank you, thank you.

Not yet

So I've just about had it with my job.

I feel like I can't get anything done, and when I do, it doesn't really matter anyway.

Okay, so I'm whining, but I would really rather stay home with my daughter right now. She keeps asking me to stay home--almost every day . . . and I keep having to say "Not today, honey. Not yet."

Not yet.

I don't know if that's just me, or if that's what the Lord has in mind right now. Honestly, sometimes I think I'd rather just quit my job and let the chips fall where they may. I would much rather be able to be there when my daughter scrapes her knee, than have to hear about it from our daycare provider. I would rather have the time to show her how to plant tulip bulbs, and to make pancakes, and to ride a bike when the time comes. I want to be able to take her (and her little brother, when he's born) out to lay in the grass and watch the clouds. I want to be there when she misbehaves, so I can tell her what God expects of a little girl. I want to fight with her so I can tell her I'm sorry. I want to teach her to sing.

But, not yet. I know I can do all these things in time, but not until the Lord--and my husband--say it's okay.

I want to be there before it's too late.

I want to be there before something tragic happens, like in my cousin's family. She worked full time, she loved her kids with everything she had in her . . . and now she's succumbing to the affects of 2 1/2 years of chemotherapy and radiation treatments. She's 42, and probably won't see this Thanksgiving. Her kids are 23, 21, 11 and 8.

Work just isn't worth missing out on my kids.


Heavenly Father,
Please give me your grace, I need it so badly today. I'm tired of complaining about work, I'm tired of missing out on my daughter, I'm tired of working, I'm just so stinking tired. I don't want to be afraid of running out of money, but I also want to pay my debts.
Thank you, my Jesus, for paying the price for my sinful life. Please show me how to be more like you, how to persevere in this race of life.
Holy Spirit, fall freshly on me today. Please keep me from harm, and from harming others.
Lord, keep me in all of your ways.
Amen

Genesis

Why Genesis?
I'm not exactly referring to the first book in the Bible here, but I am just starting this blog about my faith walk so I figured "Genesis" was a good place to start. Genesis means "birth" or "origin," which seems fitting as my family of three is getting bigger by one this January, and hopefully we'll be starting a new life as our baby boy's life begins.
This new life would involve me finally being able to be a stay-at-home mom, which is something that's been on my heart for a REALLY long time. This new life may also involve a big move for our family, as my dear hubby is looking for a new job anywhere and everywhere, which at the moment includes Arkansas.
My desire right now is to follow where God leads. I don't know if that means that I'll get to quit my job soon or not, but I would sure love to! Don't get me wrong--my job is a little boring, but it's stable, I have great co-workers and incredible benefits. I get out of the house every day, I get a decent paycheck, I'm contributing to my household income and to the tax base, I provide a valuable service to my employer . . . So why do I want to leave this all behind?
Frankly, I've been asking myself the same thing. Sure, as great as the job is, there is occasional friction between me and a boss; I have deadlines that are dependant on others doing their work first, which usually doesn't happen on time; I have an aggravating co-worker or two. But that's typical work stuff that everybody goes through, no matter what business they're in.
The main reason I am willing to drop the great job is this: someone else takes care of my daughter every day. I was at work when she took her first steps and cut her first tooth, and I'm just tired of missing out on her growing up. If we stay where we are, I keep the job and put the kids in daycare, I'll be missing out on all the same things with my little boy. I just don't want to do that anymore!
So, even starting this blog is a big leap of faith for me. I haven't shared my desire to stay home with many people (mainly because hubby hasn't gotten a job offer yet and I don't want word to get back to my boss!), but I want this so very badly. I know this is the design God has for my family . . . now if only we could figure out how He is going to pull this off!!

My prayer for today:
Father, please keep me close. I want to go where you send me, even if I have to sacrifice my home and my great career. Please give me the courage and faith to step out and do what you ask of me. Thank you for blessing us, and for providing for us in so many many ways. Thank you for showing us that you will continue to provide for our every need. Help me to keep this attitude of prayer throughout my day today, and always. Thank you most of all for the gift of salvation through your Son, that you would put Him to death for my sin. Keep me in all of your ways, Lord.
Amen