Once upon a starry night, the sky of stars shined so bright.
Lightyears of distance between each one, there are many abroad just like our sun.
Many gazed way up high, but some, the old, began to cry.
The beauty of the cosmos is beyond human description, gazing way up may be one’s prescription.
Creation in itself, born from our Creator. Born with infinite precision, unreplicable, loved by him.
From the fish of the sea to the birds of the sky.
Every microorgansim, every macroorgansim.
Biology, Chemistry, and Mathematics, all is connected without one atom left out. This connection is brought from the one up high.
Us humans take much for granted.
Overlooking the beauty and work is all we do.
Overlooking his grace and his mercy, our maker, our healer, our companion. Love is all he wants from us, for us to love him, others, and all.
The universe will not last forever, all will come to an end.
The book of life shall close and the end of the story will commence.
Until that day, I strive to love, I strive to forgive, I strive to take up my cross, respect all people, to deal with my condition gratefully and out of love.
Watch that sunset, climb that mountain, walk that beach, and spend time with those you love most.
Someday, you won’t be able to.
I’d look for hope
I’d scamper through lost dreams and fantastical places only my mind ever fashioned. Passed dignity and self worth and peace of my mind. Passed old fond memories of laughter, once so cherished memories of celebrations that got cut short by the force of reality, believing that life would turn out differently than theirs was...
Id go past all forms of motivation and drive, the will to conquer the day and strive for perfection. Shove the impetus to live and optimism about the future to the side as I thrust my hand deep down. Down beyond wholeness, beyond self love and everything good I ever believed about myself and the world. Because when tragedy struck, my eyes got awakened to reality and the fantasies my mind could ever conjure fled and all I had left was helplessness.
I wouldn’t mind that I went past living in the moment, and I chose to only see things for the darkness that outlined them and ignore the bright side. That I was passive about people who truly wanted to help me and see me for my worth than my past, their efforts would brush against my hands as I proceeded to this unreachable bottom in this box. This box that contained who I once was, or at least a self image I tried to construct outside what was really affecting me. What was changing me was probably external and the problem might be that I always thought outside the box, because now going through this box I realize I always had what I needed. So then I’d tip toe and extend my short sighted hand all the way down.
I’d pull out hope and look her in the eyes once again. I’d question why she left, why she quietened when the noise around intensified, why she couldn’t speak up when my doubts confronted my fears, why she wouldn’t be faithful enough to stand by me until the substance of her being walked into the room, but left before faith mustered visibility. This hope, I don’t know where she came from
...I hope that...wait!
I am drowning in my negative thoughts. My best friend and husband was planting fresh flowers to cheer me up. I spent the time watching my bees drink from my pond. #FaithAndIllness
Some days I feel confident in who I am in Christ, in who I am as a wife and mom, and who I am as a person. I wake up refreshed and determined, ready to tackle the day.
But let me be honest. That is NOT my daily life. A lot of days, like today, I wake up to another headache, my daughter screaming for breakfast, a list of things I wish I had done yesterday but didn’t, and the stress and anxiety of a global pandemic and political unrest beating at my brain.
I’m not going to sugarcoat it. This has been a freaking rough year. Mentally, spiritually, financially, physically, you name it. And I know I’m not the only one feeling the pressure and the fear. I know so many of us are stretched super thin, anxious and worried about what the next few months could possibly hold at this point.
Part of me just wants to run away and get away from everything. I want to pretend, to be ignorant of all the pain in the world, because at least I’d hurt less. I want to just plow forward mindlessly, like a drone.
I know the fire licking at my heels isn’t the fire of hell, though. It isn’t an attack from the enemy, but the refining fire of the Lord, shaping me and molding me into who I am meant to be. And though it hurts a LOT, though my heart and mind ache, I know that I am meant to grow and change right now. I am meant to wait on God’s timing. I am meant to hurt, not for the sake of pain, but so that the pain can reveal places in my heart and mind that still need to be healed and made whole.
Sounds rough, doesn’t it? I’m not a fan of it myself, but it’s like cleaning out a wound before you can stitch it closed— you have to get all that infection out before you seal the wound. Otherwise, your wound will be worse than before.
Job 13:15a says, “Though He slays me, yet I will trust in Him.” 2 Corinthians 4:8-10 says, We are hard pressed on every side, but not crushed; perplexed, but not in despair; 9 persecuted, but not abandoned; struck down, but not destroyed. 10 We always carry around in our body the death of Jesus, so that the life of Jesus may also be revealed in our body.”
Sometimes being a Christ follower means walking with Him on smooth roads in the sun, but so much more often it’s experiencing the dark realities of life with Him, clinging to His side and allowing Him to whisper love and truth into the hurt.
Even in this tumultuous time, Jesus is not caught unawares. He is by our side, offering grace for each day.
“I have told you these things, so that in me you may have peace. In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world.” (John 16:33)
Raising our son has always been a joy. We have two grown daughters and one of them had inherited genes for depression and anxiety and had to be medicated at the age of 8. But our other daughter has always been strong and healthy. We always thought our son was too. He has had a few issues in school with being overwhelmed but we dealt with it as it came and moved on. He has a wonderful comedic personality and people love to be around him. He also has a strong faith in God. Little did I understand that comedy is one way to deal with depression to help hide what’s really going on. Last year as a sophomore in high school he went to his counselor and said “if I have to endure this everyday, I’d rather not be here.” This was our big awakening. We self checked him into a clinic for a week to help him sort out what he was feeling. They put him on a very low dose antidepressant which seemed to help. We unenrolled him from school to give him some time. We have since moved states, and although he was very excited to move, the depression has returned. He has reduced his medication on his own. He isn’t opposed to taking it but doesn’t really like the idea of having to rely on it full time. We are needing to establish a Dr in this area to help us with getting more and I’m looking into therapy for us all. He has no desire to go back to school, to drive, or to work. He doesn’t sleep and has major social anxiety. I pray a lot. I have ask him to join this app to feel a connection with others.
When you have a mental illness it can be extremely difficult to feel connected with God. I grew up in a stong Christian family, and I always did what I knew I was supposed to. I always went to church, I always said the right things, always seemed to be super spiritual. But the reality was I said what I knew people would want to hear and internally I was struggling a lot. I wanted to badly to feel the peace and truth of the gospel, I wanted to have faith and believe, but try as I might I couldn’t.
This is something I struggle with to this day. And it’s hard, because it truly is something I want, but it seems impossible. I know my mental illness has played a huge part in this faith struggle, but that isn’t the only cause. Often others dismiss my faith struggle because of my mental illness. That is simply not fair. Others say it’s because I’m not trying hard enough, but I have put my heart and soul into my efforts to gain faith, I have tried everything I can.
So for those of you who may be going through something similar and your mental health has made it more difficult, know you’re not alone. I have to make an effort every single day and guess what, I still have severe doubts, days where I mentally can’t, days where I feel like I’ve failed God and disappointed my family. It’s hard, and it sucks. But I have to believe that my desire to want to believe is enough that God understands and loves me. That is what I do believe, that God knows our hearts even when we are struggling, he knows us and loves us and appreciates our efforts. I have to hang on to that belief, it’s all I have at times.
Behind stormy clouds is an awesome Father who loves us dearly. As we grow in knowledge faith and love for God we begin to see things from His divine view. Sunny days are good but without rain, we won't grow. If flowers could sing most likely they'd be singing in the rain. Trust that Father God knows best and showers in life are blessings from Him. Whether you're experiencing a sunny or a rainy day--or a combination of the two--be thankful & grateful that God is with you in both. Above all things may you be in good health as your soul prospers much 👣🌻🌦🎼🌈 #FaithAndIllness