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.

Perspective

This was originally posted as a note on Facebook, on Wednesday, March 16, 2011.

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

It was a hard day, and frankly, the last place I wanted to be was at the grocery store with the whole family. I've had this cold/flu thing, and I just wanted to be back home in my jammies.

The kids had been restless all afternoon . . . cabin fever big time! Picking at each other, picking at me . . . driving me just a little nutso . . . so fighting the dinner-time mob at the store just wasn't where I wanted to be.

The baby had finally fallen asleep in his car seat--poor third child, not allowed to nap by the noisy older siblings--when we got to the checkout. My oldest started asking for everything she saw: "Can I have a princess doll? Can I have gum? Can I have a cookie? Can I, oh they have candy canIhavesomecandymommypleeeeease?" Well, 20 minutes before dinner I was not going to give in to treats.

So she starts crying, which really lifted my sinus headache to a whole other level.

I was just trying to keep it together so we could get out the door, when an older lady approached. She smiled sweetly at the kids, and just as I was about to offer her the older two (for free!), she asked softly,

"Oh, can I just take a peek?" and stopped to admire the baby.

"I think he's asleep." I said quietly. "Finally!"

She gave me a measuring look, as if she was looking straight into my heart, into my bad day, into my headache. She started to speak, paused and pursed her lips, then began:

"We, my husband and I, got our first child when she was 5 months old. We adopted her, you know," she looked fondly at my sleeping babe. "She was 11 months old when the papers were finalized."

She took another deep breath. "A few months later I had this flu I just couldn't shake," she said, patting her stomach. "I finally went to the doctor, and he said, 'Well, we know you can't get pregnant, but we'll check just in case.' Well, wouldn't you know, there it was, we were pregnant after all." I smiled, enjoying the story of her miracle.

She stood another moment, smiling at the baby, then looked up at me through yesterday's tears. "We lost 6 more after that, but I had my girls." She sighed, smiled, then said, "And we fostered more than 300 children after that."

I was stunned. "Oh, well God bless you, what a wonderful thing to do!" I said with tears welling up in my eyes.

"And," she said grandly, "I also have 15 great-grandchildren." She beamed at me, then went on her way with a, "Have a nice evening."

I wish I'd asked her name. If I'd been able to speak, I'd have thanked her for her generous heart, and for helping me to have a better outlook on my day.

Endings

Sometimes I have to refrain from rolling my eyes. I know partings can be difficult, but the moping thing going on around here is getting a little annoying.
I know, I know . . . I should be loving on these people, but I'm emotionally detatching. It's easier for me to leave *glad to leave* than *sad to leave.* I am sad to leave, but I am very very happy to be going!
I will miss the people.
I will not miss the sniping.
I will miss the busy time, the tasks, the productiveness of working.
I will not have to miss my children. That productiveness is what matters most!
And the sniping.
Good grief.
What ever happened to the "Thumper Rule"? Read lthis aloud, ike you're a fluffy grey animated bunny: "If yuh can't say sumpthin' nice . . . uh . . . don' say nothin' at all." Then, waggle your fluffy tale proudly. Good bunny.
One co-worker is prone to . . . how do I put this . . . drama. Drama of all types. Melodrama, even. This is also the co-worker who--in various and assorted ways, and on numerous occasions--has sought to deal me a glancing blow to the ego. Not that I have much of an ego left, after laboring for 37 hours with my first child before crying for a cesarean, but still. Is there really any point to denigrating another person? To serve out sniping little comments that are meant to be teasing or jokes?
And then to call and say, "(giggle) I wanted to apologize for being such a b**ch. (snicker)"
That's not an apology.
That's downright rude.
I am so glad that this is my last week here. Now I can just ease out from under the oppression that is this personality.
But, alas--she has my cell phone number.
And I--triumphantly--have caller ID on my cell. That's a good thing.

~~

I WANT TO BE ABLE TO FORGIVE THIS PERSON AND MOVE ON.
I just don't think I can continue a friendship, even though I know that's what she'll try to do. Ugh. Lord, help me to see her through your eyes: because all I want to do, is call attention to her claims at Christianity and point out how she's NOT acting Christ-like. Ugh again.
Please help me to "be a channel of your peace," and not to sew dischord.
Please help me to shine your light instead of pushing others toward darkness.
Work through me, if you will.
AMEN

Illnesses

Why do they need to fight you when you're fighting for them? Seriously!
My oldest is sick and REFUSES to puke in the pan. She's strong-willed, but trying to convince her that her will is no match for the tummy flu is taking a long time to sink in. My poor baby. I hate feeling like there's nothing I can do for her.
I'm also trying to relay the message that sometimes answers to prayer are "No," and that that's okay. Trying to get across that we should praise God in all circumstances may be a tougher nut to crack today.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dear Lord Jesus, I don't want to catch this illness. Please keep me, hubby, and little brother safe from it? Please?

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