Here I am

You know that time and place where you're standing right before you have to make a decision? Sometimes, you're in bed and it's before you get up for the day. Maybe, you are in line at Sonic deciding which $.99 drink special will make your day. Where are we when we have to accept a disappointment of a job loss, or a job transfer? Some may be at the doctor's office when they are forced to make a decision about something that is so completely out of their control, yet so completely controls the next step that needs to be taken. Big decisions like this are not made in the blink of an eye, though often times, it appears to be so. More often that not, big decisions are practiced in the little moments each day offers. The moments we have to face disappointment with cheer, and frustration with calmness.

Unfortunately, I am standing at a precipice trying to decide and the choices are just not coming. Have you ever been there? That place in time when you know, "I have to get up, I have to breathe and move forward". And yet, with each breath, there is no movement. You know there's coffee to drink on your bedside table, and you know you have to be somewhere at 8:30am. Knowing the decision making process has become increasingly challenging, you decide to get up extra early, to wrestle through the process. I think I should take rightful ownership about now. This is what I do. I get up early. I sit on the edge of my bed, and I look around. I see the coffee, and the closet full of clothes. I look through the doorway to the bright and spacious living room. I know just on the other side of the bedroom is our sun filled sun room. So many palaces I through which to enter my day, before walking into the unknown.

But, guess what I do? I lay back down. No just an, "I'm going to rest for 5 more minutes." But, the kind that says, "I am pulling my covers up over my head and hoping nobody notices that I am still here." That's what I did yesterday. I had every intention of getting up and moving through my day. Though overwhelmed and quite sure I have been walking the fine tight rope of "breaking", I wake up each day convinced that if I can make it out of bed and into any room right outside my bedroom, I will be in the clear, success will be had. For appearance sake, let me reassure you, I know that I have many blessings, and this place of darkness is not the reality God chooses for me, or that I boldly reject. It seems to me, when an admittance of sadness or dare I say, depression is brought into a discussion, there are those who are collecting perceptions of their reality to disregard the very real nature of sadness that their friend or even stranger are enduring. For instance, the argument I would recount, and do recount to myself goes something like this,:

Look at your beautiful children. They are walking testimonies of God's love for you. And look at Chris. He couldn't love you more if he tattooed your name up and down his arm and across his forehead. Even if he did that, he'd probably be seeking out the next act of generosity to show his love. Look at your friends, Rosie, you are loved. There are people far and near who are able and willing to hear and love you. They won't fix it, and you don't want that, but they are available and they love you. And, Rosie, what about this Jesus Christ character you adoringly sing to and turn to when you can't understand cancer, death, tornadoes, back talking children, broken relationships. Is not God the ultimate answer to your darkness? Cling to Him, draw comfort from Him

So, you see, I know the wealth of goodness that stands in direct contrast to my heart of sadness. But, rather than explain one more time why I am sad, and whether that is right or wrong, I want to try to tell you what I think when I am standing at the door or have walked through the door of darkness unconsciously. Though I think darkness is the reflection of sin, I am referring to darkness as the sadness that settles into the soul when life and LIFE are juxtaposed.

The darkness of the day, is quite different than the darkness of the night in the soul. As evening descends, life slows down, and we are meant to be still and quiet. We are meant to ponder, and release the days events into the all-knowing, all-capable hands of our father. When darkness descends and the exchange of stress and fear isn't completed, I am often left quite lonely, wondering what to do with the heaviness. I get that place of frustration. There's an expectation for sleep to take over and refreshment to replace the darkness from the day before. But, what about the darkness that settles in the morning? Rather than talking vaguely here, I will attempt to share my experience yesterday. Though I am anxious and quite uncertain if this is the appropriate venue, I wonder if more than I feel this way, and it's some kept secret that I might be relieved of carrying. Though I may not be able to alter the course of some of these moments, I wonder if others can related to the pit of darkness and the confusion of moving through it.

Yesterday morning I woke up after about 6 hours of sleep. Pretty good for me. As I sat up on the bed, my head throbbing, and my legs aching, I was overcome with...darkness, despair, confusion. Overcome was the word of the day. I wasn't just overcome with dark emotions, I was overcome with a list of chores, activities, projects, obligations, and disappointments that caused my head to spin. Chris is so good to me, he asked who he needed to call to get me out of one or the other of my obligations. Though I appreciated his willingness to help, his offer further propelled my thinking into, "He doesn't think I can do it. He thinks there is something wrong with me." I don't want to be that person. Why did Chris jump so quickly to solve this with and for me? Because, he's seen it, up close and personal before. He's seen the weeks at a time of me sitting on the edge of the bed wondering where to start, and feeling resigned, I lay back down and pull the covers over my head. He doesn't allow this behavior to enable me, though he does. He just can't make decisions for me that I am unwilling to make for myself.

So, I did lay back down. I laid down and fell back to sleep. Every time I emerged from my denial, I would feel the unacceptable guilt that game with letting people down. I had obligations to be somewhere, and I didn't show up. I had failed. My children were at the pool with Chris, but wasn't I failing them too? And, God bless Chris, who I fail on a regular basis. There is a time your body needs to sleep. It needs to stop attempting to meed the never ending supply of demands. My body is pretty clear when that time has come. So, it's not entirely me avoiding my responsibilities. It's me acknowledging my top priority, listening to God and honoring what he has taught me about my own mental and physical health.

It's shameful for me to admit that I need that time, that I fall short because I have yet to able to balance what I want to do with what I can do. I wish I could help those who love me, or maybe love someone who struggles to, to understand that place, that moment when we get up. For you it may be different, but for me, the darkness comes in through the night, and greets me first thing in the morning.

I sit on the edge of my bed, knowing it is time to take the step. I feel my head pounding and I know I need to move through the moment. I can't let a headache dictate my day. (Usually this is the 3rd day of waking up with a headache, which gives me reason to pause that maybe I should be listening to myself on the first day and I wouldn't walk the next 24 hours quite the same way.) I start considering a shower and pulling my clothes. But, I am back on my bed, sitting, head in my hands. Chris walks in and asks what he can do. Nothing, there's nothing anyone can do. I have to shower, and I have to dress, and I want to lay back down. I used to get angry at this point. What is wrong with me? I got up just fine yesterday? What is wrong? I lay my head back down on the pillow and curl the covers into my fingers, drawing them to my face. Ahhh, comfort. This is safe. This is rest. Chris enters, "Honey, are you going to get moving? Do you want your coffee? Water?" I don't know. Sometimes I say the words, "I don't know". But, other times I just lay there, and shrug. Words are an effort, and answers are non existent.

How pathetic that must seem to my husband and children, and to some of you. And if it's not, it's probably because you know this place, or you know someone who does. If it's not considered pathetic, it may very well make you angry. It seems crazy to take the beautiful day, with all its blessings and trade it in for sleep and sadness. Don't I know hard some people really have it, and they get up every day, breathing and seeing the strength of God in every move they make. Oh, friends, I assure you, the brief moment of darkness described above is so inconsequential to the plight of those we know suffering with loved ones with cancer, or loss of a loved one, or unemployment, divorce, illness, broken relationships, etc... I in now way mean to elevate my moments to the enormity of what others are going through. I know God is in my midst as well as in the midst of others.

I guess I would like to share that once the decision to go back to bed is over, the dialogue doesn't stop in my head. I whip myself for not being stronger, or more capable. I fear losing what I have because I can't take care of it. I fear I am damaging my children and scarring my marriage. I feel desperately alone. I have friends who so sweetly, generously, and authentically would stand by my side, whatever that would look like. But, Ia m too ashamed to even admit that I didn't get out of bed. It's like, I am standing on a platform to catch a subway line or a bus. It's dark, but there are people around and the dim lights underground permit safety in seeing the surroundings. But, as the train pulls in, the lights fade for just a moment. Then the hustle and bustle of foot traffic as people move to where they need to be. All the while, I am 2 feet from the open door. But, I don't know if I am supposed to get on. I am not sure where it is going and if I will be able to function once I get there. The exchange of air as the door shuts sucks the air out of my chest, and I stand seeing the platform empty. There are no lights coming from the train that pulled away. There are still some dim lights, but the darkness down the track is complete

This cycle continues endlessly. There are opportunities to get going, move onto the train car that is moving, but fear is confining and paralyzing. The hope of interaction with someone who will say the words that snap you back becomes desperate. Crying out to Jesus, praying for His peace and comfort, His perfect understanding and direction to lead out of the moment gives some power and authority over the darkness, but the energy in begging saps the energy of moving. He is in my midst, even in the darkness. He sends his messengers to me through kind words, cards, texts, emails, and flowers. The darkness continues when I am unable to reciprocate or respond to the kindnesses of others. I have no words to describe what I am feeling, and any words I find can easily be rebuked and argued as to their truthfulness.

As desperate as I sound to want to get out of the darkness, and trust me, I am;I am pausing to consider the need for the darkness to teach me and lead me. I have had some very unpleasant situations and interactions in the past in my effort to avoid suffering and experiencing the darkness which serves as a mirror into my soul allowing me to adjust and realign myself more closely with God's direction and purpose. The problem with darkness, is most people are afraid of it. We can't see what's coming, we might trip or bump, we might fall, or run into something we don't want to deal with. So, I linger in the dark, pulling my covers up, avoiding the bumps and bruises and avoiding. I suppose there's a place for both responses. I need to slow down, sleep and pull the covers over my head. Otherwise I might be a bull in a candy shop. So many diversions that I might not make it through without destroying everything in my path.

Then comes the time when I have to get out of bed. I don't know which way to go after that. Breathe, show up for work. I know there will be a lot of laughter and a lot of opportunity to focus on the tangible work of getting things done. This won't be avoidance, it will interaction and production. It will be a blessing. I am glad I am not the sum of my darker days. I am also glad experience the light in direct contrast to the darkness because I appreciate it so much. I appreciate the sunshine in my soul when I own the truth of Christ's love for me. I feel like I need to clarify at these times so my friends know I know He loves me, all the time, everywhere, and always. My moments in darkness are not void of His presence. They are full of His love and His assurances. But, they are a time that I feel very separated from my family and friends. And though He is there, I feel lonely because it's not fun to be in the dark. Not a lot of people want to come sit in darkness, especially when they love you and want to make you feel better. But, God is there, sustaining, and protecting my from my weaker self.

There's so much more I can say on this topic. I am no expert, and I am only speaking from my place in time. My heart aches for those, who like me, wander in and out of darkness with the confused sense of loneliness and shame. We know the light, we own the truth of our Savior, and yet we humanly linger in areas of doubt and self-loathing. It's been a long couple of days. There are of course reasons why the darkness shrouded me, but it is in my response where I can reclaim some victory of who I am in Christ.

Birds, bathrooms, and blubbering

So, last night I am sitting outside in the fairly comfortable 98* weather at 8:00pm, and hear this awful flapping sound. It was not the typical chirping and scurrying of delightful creatures who have found our backyard their permanent residence. Nor was it the sound of our neighbor’s yard sprinklers which we hear fairly regularly despite the regulated twice a week watering restriction. I didn’t hear the splashing of children in the neighbor’s pool, nor was the typical and customary sound of little people giggling and yelling with childhood wonderment to be heard. I found myself in the very uncomfortable position of hearing slapping and flapping from two despicable creatures in the form of birds “making out”. Imagine the horror.

As many may know, birds are my least favorite of God’s creatures. They are dirty, disgusting, invasive, ill-mannered, infect-ridden, bug infested, flying rodents who spread disease and filth to all in their path. I carry great bitterness towards these animals as they were responsible for my miserable junior high years of ill-health from the disease I contracted from inhaling the spores from their fecal matter. It just gets more disgusting as you read, doesn’t it? Hystoplasmosis is a common illness that often goes undetected and untreated. Unfortunately, my lungs bear the scar of its presence in my body and my hospital stays in the effort to have the disease diagnosed are highlights of my junior high years. Yes, please imagine going to your 7th grade friends and telling them you got a disease from breathing in bird poop. That goes over really well. They thought I was really cool and people couldn’t wait to sit by me during lunch time. Of course, I could have not shared why I wasn’t at school, but then my sister and brothers would have been the lucky story tellers and they could have given it even more delightful visuals than I just shared.

Clearly, birds are gross. Them “making out” and perpetuating their existence in my very back yard was alarming and most unfortunate. Fortunately, this unpleasant occurrence pulled me out of my pathetic mind set of missing my family and friends and startled me back to the reality that there are far greater things to be disturbed by, such us the procreation of nasty creatures such as birds. Why would I give so much attention to the heart ache of disconnect from those I love when I can take my pent up frustration and bitterness and direct it where it rightfully deserves.

Isn’t that how it works. Even though we are given ample and justified heart break to contend with, we avoid and deflect so we can maintain the semblance of balance and the cover of control. I have found myself over the past week feeling the exterior presentation of control cracking and crumbling at the most inopportune times. For instance, in the pool restroom, I offered to hold the door shut for a little four year old girl who was trying to use the potty, but whose mom’s hands were filled with a 15-20 pound ball of energy in the form of a 1 year old. I was glad to hold the door so she could step out with the baby. There I was, holding the door, and chatting with a friend, when it hit me. I have been avoiding my sister, who confronted me angerly about my lack of priorities and my disregard for her feelings when it came to spending time with her family. Of course, this awareness had nothing to do with the bathroom, or the 4 year old using it, but, since I had already gone down the path of disgust and crudity, I thought I would carry on the visual. (Thanks for indulging me.)

I had been discussing an unrelated situation where the same sentiments were being felt by someone else. In the moment of awareness, I thought, my sister may very well be right. I have not got my priorities straight. I do enjoy my friends and I do spend my time with them sometimes at the expense of my extended family. Our move to Texas also further alienated me from my friends who had become like family due to the proximity and the presence in our life. Not because I don’t already have a great family by birth right, but because I have never lived close enough to honor that relationship through a community of love and service to one another on a daily basis. When my car would break down, or I couldn’t pick up a child at school due to a work conflict, my neighbors would be the family I called for help. Likewise, when my sister or brother’s children were sick, I didn’t get to deliver a meal or relieve them of child care duties so they could take a shower or go to the store. I wasn’t able to support them the way I could my friends; not for lack of desire, but out of circumstance.

So, here I am, holding the stall door shut, and tears welled up in my eyes. Not only that, I literally had to cry. Not just a little silent cry, but the body shaking, loud sobbing’ish kind of cry. Can you imagine what that 4 year old little girl must have been thinking? Oh my word. CRAZY LADY has me locked in the potty. She is unstable and she is not going to let me out. Of course, I am sitting there thinking, “Oh my goodness, the Holy Spirit is meeting me right here in the pool’s bathroom. How great is this? I wish I had fixed my hair and put on some makeup for this unexpected visit with the Most High God.” I really didn’t know what was happening. It was as if a light bulb went off in my head. I am not sure if the crying was out of relief because I had been praying for awareness to be shown on the situation with my sister. Or if I was crying because, once the light bulb went off I thought the light would blind me and I immediately needed it to be turned off. I didn’t want to see what the light was showing me because I had come up with some pretty good arguments in support of my position with my sister.
It wasn’t long before I remembered the child in the stall, and looked into the eyes of my friend and began laughing about the hilarity of the moment. I had clued her into what I was thinking, and then said, “I think I have been convicted right here and now. Even as I stand here, chatting with my friend, my family is sitting out in the car waiting for me to get in so we can get home and have some family time. How’s that for my priorities? I can’t even put my immediate family first.” Once the little one was safely reunited with the mother who had walked into see me standing at the stall door with my tear streaked face, I collected my things and walked out to the car. I was also struck by how crying is such a highlighter of discomfort. You see someone who has been crying and you immediately change your tone and temperament to offer sympathy and or to avoid having to get too close to the obviously emotionally raw moment that just erupted and may not quite have passed. So my husband adjusted his tone, cocked his head, and sweetly said, “Are you ok?”

“Of course I am ok. Why do you ask? Is it because my nose is bright red, my makeup is streaking down my face and the rest of my complexion is blotchy? I am great. No worries. Sorry for making you wait.” I know he would have given me a good talking to about my awareness being slightly skewed as we all have responsibilities to love and care for one another, and I can’t possibly be fully responsible for the decline in my relationship with my sister. I know he is right. It was just awareness that I had resisted taking seriously.
The tears have continued to be close to the surface. There is so much filtering and sifting through emotions that I can’t quite make out what is happening. The tears feel good though. In as strange and slightly uncomfortable way, it is comforting to feel and respond to the variety of emotions coming into my awareness. I don’t want to avoid the voice of God speaking to my heart. Nor do I want to take for granted the very good gifts of distraction and levity that reminds me of how amazing it is to live and love freely. Each time God takes me to a place of turning the lights down and sitting with me as I face the darkness of circumstances both created and injected into my life; He also offers enough light to see His love to move through the darkness. Sometimes that light is in the beams through the eyes of 4 year olds in bathroom stalls, the laughter with a friend over a meal at Olive Garden or over a game of Slug Bug which leaves bruises the size of apples (which I seriously can’t help, I am just that strong). Sometimes the light is seen through the exchange of stories about children and the challenges that we face in this world of competition and chaos. Often times, the light is seen in a text or a fb note, or a words with friend beep that comes just when I need to be reminded to get out of my head and back into the moment. And, yes, I guess God leads me out of the darkened places in my soul through the awful flapping and smacking of his most disgusting of creatures. He can walk beside me as I glimpse at the darkness of my past, but then he gently leads me back into the light of His goodness, even giving me reminders of His sense of humor and comical nature, through those nasty, ill-mannered fowl.
Praying you see glimpses of his light even in the midst of whatever darkness you may be experiencing. Don’t avoid going through; instead, enjoy the flickering and flashes that He has generously planned for you.