Going Muddin' 

      Through Depression

                                                                           

 

 

 

Depression. . .

                                              

In the worship service, my pastor, Ken Shaddox, preached on the reasons for and prevention of the epidemic of depression.

It’s fast becoming a top-five disease in North America due to things like:

• Stress
• Unmet expectations
• Losses in life
• Physical/chemical/hormonal issues
• You-name-it other reasons

A healer of depression can be “The Big Three”--

1) 7-8 hours sleep,

2) nutrition improvement,

3) exercise.

Not kidding. It’s a scientific fact that “The Big Three” fight back depression.

Another healer is the spiritual principle of possessing hope. Depression can spring a leak in our spirit and totally drain the hope right out of life.

Ken emphasized that such wonderful hope to combat life's hopelessness is found in the personality of God.

Wow.

I love that.

Don’t we all love to be around those personalities 

who embrace and embody hope? 

And so it is with God.

Or as Lamentations 3:21-23 says: “Yet this I call to mind and therefore I have hope: Because of the Lord’s great love we are not consumed, for his compassions never fail. They are new every morning; great is your faithfulness.”

Ken opened up our eyes to three words in this passage that are life-giving when battling depression.   (Hint: they are highlighted!)  

 

Hope, God’s great love, and God’s great faithfulness can make a remarkable difference 

in a troubled mind, 

an aching heart, 

and in a mud-puddled life.

This afternoon I dropped by my hospital to check on a patient. In the process I reunited with a nurse-friend who I never get to see anymore because she only works weekends.  She and I hugged and laughed and hugged some more right there in the middle of the unit.

Then we got quiet, eye-balled each other, and asked each other: “How are you really doing?”

She told me she had fought with compassion fatigue.

"Me too," I said, "plus significant depression."

She, too, spoke of her fight against depression.

“I was under it. Really under it. But I couldn't figure out why.” She said. “And finally I saw myself for what was going on. 

I was DEPRESSED, and my constant depression was blocking me from receiving blessing.”

“What do you mean blessing?” I squinted at her and asked.

“You know. God’s blessing. His gifts and goodness. I was so focused on myself and my hurt and my sadness that I could not see anything else. We get stuck looking inward at ourselves.” She smiled that big smile at me and was looking deep into me. I wondered if she was reading my emotional mail.

“So how do you receive God’s blessing when the depression is at you so hard?” I had to know.

Had to.

“Well…hummm….” She smiled, thought a bit, and eye-balled me again with a warm love. That’s her style. "Well when you turn it around and try to keep your eyes more on God than on yourself, even when you are hurting so bad, then you and God can do things like . . . 

turn that ole depression
mud puddle 

                                into a mud facial—

                making you bee-uu-tee-full!”

We laughed and laughed.

I smiled to myself as I walked towards my car to go home.  Appropriate medicine and some incredible counselors have been healing gifts from God  for me. Yet no matter the struggle I might have with the blues and depression, I welled up with new inner joy at the thought that I am on my way to becoming a bee-uu-tee-full  “Cover Girl” in my soul and spirit.

It gives me life-giving hope

        that God can make
            mountains into molehills 

    and mud holes
                       into mud facials.

by Candace K Hardin

Night Watching



Zach the Cat looks out the window.
And I type words.
It's late.
But he's supposed to be up--nocturnal and all.
I'm supposed to be in bed--going to work in the morning and needing rest and all.
But Zach and I are both
night watching.

We look for things that move in the dark,
That get our attention,
That hold our interest,
That challenge us.
He watches for a couple of neighborhood cats
Who would dare walk, sniff, and possibly mark his territory.
Me, I watch for another thought,
Or a God whisper,
Or a possible revelation,
Or a new encounter 
Through writing, reading, even through silence.

Zach watches on the outside.
I watch on the inside.
Exterior.
Interior.
We both enjoy 
Night watching.
Just like God made us to.
But I think Zach enjoys it more.

                                           
                                Zack looks a lot like this cat in this painting that I copied from Google images.

"Stand"

You feel like a candle in a hurricane

Just like a picture with a broken frame

Alone and helpless

Like you've lost your fight

But you'll be alright, you'll be alright

Cause when push comes to shove

You taste what you're made of

You might bend, till you break

Cause its all you can take

On your knees you look up

Decide you've had enough

You get mad you get strong

Wipe your hands shake it off

Then you Stand, Then you stand

Life's like a novel

With the end ripped out

The edge of a canyon

With only one way down

Take what you're given before its gone

Start holding on, keep holding on

Cause when push comes to shove

You taste what you're made of

You might bend till you break

Cause it's all you can take

On your knees you look up

Decide you've had enough

You get mad, you get strong

Wipe your hands, shake it off

Then you stand, then you stand

Everytime you get up

And get back in the race

One more small piece of you

Starts to fall into place

Love for a Few Minutes Tonight

I was folding clothes and doing chores

When Pandora featured Kenny G playing “Songbird” from my computer

In the guest room.

Memories sped back to a day and time

When Mommie used to love playing her music on the stereo

In the living room

While she worked in the kitchen getting supper ready.

She loved her smooth jazz

And her blues

And her “Red Sails in the Sunset” music.

But mostly it was smooth jazz

From saxophonists or pianists and sometimes guitarists.

I stopped folding the towels

And dropped into my memory of feelings--

Splashes of light from the days

When I had her,

And I had home,

And she looked for me coming into town

Greeting me with flowers in the kitchen

And jazz softly playing from the stereo.

Back then

I felt the warmth

The security

The goodness

The togetherness of doing much of nothing.

Now it’s just me and the cat . . . and the music.

She instilled in me her love

For playing the stereo in my home

While going about cleaning or washing

Or whatever a home needs doing.

So thanks, Kenny G,

Herbie Hancock,

Chick Corea,

Dave Brubeck,

Billie Holiday,

John Coltrane, and

George Winston

to name a few.

You brought me some love

in my heart’s memory

for a few minutes tonight.

MADE IT

Made it over yesterday's fence.

It's now and not then.

Glad for now.

And then there's tomorrow's fence .....

Twelve Twelve Twelve

I should be in bed.
I'm not.
I'll pay for this tomorrow.
But today, it's OK.
I'm up living the last of some history...
12-12-12.
I like it that I'm squeezing out some of the last bit of this historic time frame.
In addition to being up,
I'm also going to celebrate by making a decision,
A very important decision,
A big decision,
A remarkable decision.
Give me a minute.....
......................
..............................
.............
....................................

.........................

........ 
.................................... There. Now. I did it.
I made that very important decision.
Very important....on 12-12-12.
Now I can get ready to go to bed.
Gotta get some sleep
So I can begin to start moving forward 
With my decision beginning on 12-13-12.
Remarkable.