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.

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

Beauty from ashes

I've been praying that the Lord would use my mistakes and unfortunate past experiences for His glory, and I'm starting to see that happen. I was able to minister to a friend today, to help her remember His hope for her hopeless situation . . . it was amazing. She has the mark of Grace on her life, true grace. She could choose bitterness, but chose instead graciousness. She chose truth over a lie. She chose God's Word over her feelings. She has every reason to be unforgiving, but is choosing instead to forgive. I am so proud of her.
God is so good!!
I don't know what the end result of our prayers will be, but I'm excited to see what happens. We're hoping for the best, praying against the worst, and waiting on the Lord.
God used the beautiful end result of my presumably hopeless situation, and turned it into hope for my friend. I love that.

Isaiah 40:31 (New International Version)
31 but those who hope in the LORD
will renew their strength.
They will soar on wings like eagles;
they will run and not grow weary,
they will walk and not be faint.

He said He will renew our strength, He'll give us wings to fly.

~~~~

I remember reading once that revenge is like swallowing poison in the hopes that another will die, and I believe that is true. What freedom there is in forgiveness!

~~~~

Praise report!! My husband got a new job: it's a temp-to-hire situation, and I'm praying that it's just another step toward home for me. My journey to being a stay-at-home momma is becoming more real to me all the time. Hubby is actually talking about "having another one!" Is he always going to get baby-fever before me? We're definitely becoming a quiverfully-minded couple, and much quicker than I'd anticipated.

Psalm 127
A song of ascents. Of Solomon.

1 Unless the LORD builds the house,

its builders labor in vain.

Unless the LORD watches over the city,

the watchmen stand guard in vain.
2 In vain you rise early

and stay up late,

toiling for food to eat—

for he grants sleep to [a] those he loves.
3 Sons are a heritage from the LORD,

children a reward from him.
4 Like arrows in the hands of a warrior

are sons born in one's youth.
5 Blessed is the man

whose quiver is full of them.

They will not be put to shame

when they contend with their enemies in the gate.

Submission

Submission is a hard thing. The Lord commands it . . . but I'm not a naturally submissive woman. Not that that's an acceptable excuse, I still need to submit to the Lord in all things, I just struggle with it.

I also struggle with trust: I've gone through hurts and have slow-healing scars, and that makes me hesitant sometimes. Not that that's an acceptable excuse either, it's just my reality at present.

~~~~~

I almost did something regrettable yesterday . . .

A well-meaning person, one I thought Biblically wise, suggested that perhaps my hubby and I needed a break from each other. The idea was for me to move myself and my children to mom's for a couple of weeks so hubby could get a handle on things at home.

I almost did it. Almost. I was this close to calling hubby and telling him my stupid stupid plan.

Thankfully I posted a message about it to a group of trusted prayer partners and one wise lady stepped up and told me the truth. I am so grateful for her. She lead me to these scriptures:

1 Corinthians 7:10

Now to the married I command, yet not I but the Lord:

A wife is not to depart from her husband.

~ ~ ~

Matthew 12:25

Jesus knew their thoughts and said to them,

"Every kingdom divided against itself will be ruined, and

every city or household divided against itself will not stand."

Again, so thankful for her wisdom.

So I suppose I'll need an answer for the well-meaning friend with bad advice. I am choosing not to confront, but to answer honestly if they inquire about our situation. I don't think they meant to encourage division . . . and I won't hold it against them.

I just thank the Lord, weary as I am, that He is faithful and true, and worthy of all Praise and Honor and Glory.

~~~

Heavenly Father,

I know now that for me, trusting you starts with my letting go. So since I'm already dangling at the end of my rope, and since you are waiting to catch me, I may as well loose my grip and see what happens.

I confess this is really hard for me, and that I am desperately afraid of falling. I will keep my eyes on you.

I love you Lord.

Lead the way.