Day 9: I am Thankful for Patience

...Not that I actually have much of my own...

When I was still growing up, well, how about we just rewind to when I was in college.  I did my research in a library by sourcing through magazines and books using a card catalogue.  I actually knew people's phone numbers beyond dialing, "Mom."  And if I didn't know someone's phone number, I called information or I looked it up in either the White Pages or the Yellow Pages.

I typed my first 10 page research paper on a typewriter.  I was considered lucky on my hall because I had one of those typewriters that could erase & re-type.  Eventually, my roommate let me use her word processor.  Amazing!

There was no fast forwarding through commercials.  We looked up movie times in the paper.  If I tried to call my then boyfriend, Derick, while his mom was talking to him on his WALL phone, this annoying beep-beep sound started up declaring the line "busy." 

My the world has changed.  (And I sound like an old woman...barefoot, in the snow, uphill, BOTH ways...)

My 11-year-old is in competitive swimming.  His practices are held at the University of Alaska Anchorage.  Recently, the school slowed down it's Wifi to combat the number of folks pirating movies and music.

It.is.driving.me.crazy.

It takes longer than 10 seconds for me to get anything up on the screen of my phone!  The outrage. 

It is very human (and very Pentecostal) to expect God to hand me instant healing.  I should pray in the altar, with faith, and all should be well from that moment on in my heart.  Except I found that He doesn't do things the way I'd like Him to.

Unlike the rest of the world, unlike my own surburbian world, He is not in a hurry.

From looking at the stories in the Bible, God is as much into the process or the journey of a life as He is into the end result.  Abraham was 100 when Isaac was born.  Moses was 80 when he led the Israelites out of Egypt and into the wilderness.

Going to the ultimate story, the Gospel story, God spent about 4,000 years building up to the moment when Christ would appear on earth. 

It took me 20 years to get through my depression.  God wasn't frustrated with me, either, because I wasn't figuring it out.  He knew from the beginning the exact date my depression would start AND the exact moment it would end.  He was not in hurry.  He was not anxious.  He didn't bite His nails or twirl His hair or wring His hands. 

He had patience.

"'My thoughts are nothing like your thoughts,' says the Lord. 

'And my ways are far beyond anything you could imagine'."  Isaiah 55:8 (NLT)

I wish I would have patience like Him.  But He is slowly, ever so slowly building it.  He's good like that.

My Moment of Bliss

I've been sick for the last several days.  I protest my ill status declaring that all mothers should be exempt from all malady for at least the first five years of their children's lives.  Alas, the bacteria and virii (plural of virus? no?) aren't in agreement with me. 

I'd call them booger-heads but in reality, I'm the literal booger-head.  (Snort, sniff, blow)

But, I have found one brief moment of happiness while I lie in my bed.  It is not while I'm sleeping because I honestly don't get to do much of that sleeping thing what with two still sorta in diapers and all.  

It is not while I'm dreaming since sickness tends to bring on the weirdest dreams.  (Right after pregnancy...whoa!...am I right?)

It is not even the comfort of being snuggled in soft sheets and being warm, a rarity for us Alaskans.

Since I'm snotty and boogery it is not currently even in a passionate embrace with my husband.  (giggle)

My moment of bliss, my glorious moment of bliss last for but a couple of minutes, several times a night.  It is after I've rolled over...and waited for the gunk in my head to settle...and for, maybe, two delightful minutes I can breathe out of BOTH sides of my nose.  I love that feeling.

I think my cold medicine has made me loopy...

Day 8: I am Thankful for Humility

We are Americans.  We can do anything and everything if we just dream big enough and work hard enough.  I mean, that's what all our cartoons, movies, and Disney tweener shows tell us, right?

But no matter how hard I worked, no matter how much I wanted it, no matter how white my knuckles were...

I couldn't shake the depression on my own.  I needed help.  How very un-American of me.  How very un-Texan of me...gasp...hand placed prettily on mouth. 

The fact is, when it came to depression, I was unable to come up with my own remedy.  Spent years trying.  I was unable to work it out.  I was unable to figure it out.  I was unable to know what I needed to do, to make myself better.

It was not easy to admit.  I happen to be a naturally prideful and independent person.  I'm not one of those women who needs a guy.  I don't have to be popular.  I am not afraid to be alone because I know I'm intellegent and able.  I can figure it.  Virtually always. 

So God gave me depression.  He showed me I needed others.  He showed me I needed my husband and my family.  And most importantly, He showed me I needed Him. 

Humble yourselves, therefore, under God's mighty hand, that He may lift you up in due time. 

1 Peter 5:6 (NIV)

And this verse is true.  I am at a greater place of joy now than I ever was before I asked for help.  He has released me to speak through writing.  He has realeased me to love others.  He has released me to love my husband & children in a way I wasn't able to before.  

And as long as I throw myself upon Him and the people He brings into my life, it can only get better.  

I'm not done, but I'm done for today.

Day 7: I am Thankful for My Husband

Oh, the cheese factor will be big...

For the most part, I have and will continue to keep most of my "thankfuls" relevent to anyone suffering with depression.  But, for today, I am going to endulge myself. 

I met my husband at a Bible college.  He knew before we married that depression was something I struggled with.  I don't think he knew how much or how bad it could get, but he stuck with me.  He has continued to stick with me.

It can't be easy being the partner of someone with depression.  I know he has longed to make everything better, but since he's not the cause of the depression, he's unable to fix the problem by himself.

He has done a couple of things right for me. 

1) As previously stated, we met in Bible college.  It's unfortunate, but also true, that church ministry can be very image conscious.  I can look back and see leanings in both of us to try to "look the part."  You know the part: all polished and pretty and put together:

(Please note that I am neither endorsing nor criticizing the Osteens.  I have heard him say one thing I greatly disagree with and other things I don't have a problem accepting.  But they are very much the image sought after by many Pentecostal Bible students in the 1990's.  They help make my point.)

See how polished and pretty they are.  See how nicely they are put together.  They may, indeed, be genuinely polished, pretty and put together.  Bully for them.  I am not.  (Let's be honest, with my curly hair, I've never been described as "polished." At least not without a couple of hours and a flat iron...) And 10 years ago, when my husband was a minister in a church we were very much pressured to put forth such an image.  A wife battling depression and on anti-depressants does not line up. 

My wonderful husband, did not hesitate to tarnish his own pastoral image.  He was more concerned for my well-being than how I made him look.  He would rather I get happy and healthy than pretend.  I don't know if very many of you, my readers, will understand that that took a special kind of bravery.  Such bravery was rare in our circles.

Thankfully, like me with this blog, I see many ministers and ministering families throwing open the doors and showing all the ugly in all it's glory.  I believe that showing how Christ works through our weaknesses vs. pretending we have it together is the way to reach hurting people.

2). He's my best friend.  And when I say he is my friend, I mean that he's a real friend.  He's probably a better friend than I am. He is willing to push me.  He is willing to tell me the truth instead of telling me what will make me feel better at the moment.  He was willing to get me to help when I didn't have the ability to get help on my own.

I know not everyone has a husband like mine.  But almost all of you know SOMEONE who you suspect of being depressed.  Perhaps you can be a friend like my spouse is and push them to get help.  Perhaps you can be their friend when times are ugly & not just when times are easy.

I am thankful for my husband.

I'm not done yet, but I'm done for now.

Day 6: I am Thankful for Relapse

I was racked with depression for about 20 years.  That's not a short time.  Especially when I was only 32 years old.  Getting out was messy.  There were years and years of treatment culminating in me facing some issues that could better be labeled demons.  Not in the Pentecostal "cast you owwOOT!" sort of way but in the "it was that nasty" sort of way.

(Note: I do believe in demons and oppression.  I know I dealt with some in my counselors office, but getting rid of it was less melodramatic than most Pentecostals like to imagine.)

But because of all that dirty "ick" that I went through, I was able to get some truly horrible grit out of my heart.  I was able to excise quite a bit of bitterness, anger, fear and self-hatred.  You see, my soul was broken.  Sin and pain, some self-afflicted and some forced upon me by others, had permeated so much of me that I was unable to cope on my own.

Blessedly, God has no desire for me to keep such things.  Instead He allowed the depression to become so oppressive I sought help.  Help I needed to remove the cancer in my heart.

I know He used depression to cleanse me.

And this is why I can deal with the depression when it decided to rear it's ugly head, again, in my life.  Initially I was simply angry because I thought I'd had this thing beat forever.  But...I've come to know that this means there's something broken.  God wants to fix it.  And He loves me enough to force me to deal with it.  I wouldn't be surprised as I dig & discover that He's tried to get my attention in other ways.  Well, He has my attention now. 

Also, along with fixing myself, I'm reminded of how others are suffering.  My compassion & understanding are renewed.  I'll roll my eyes less and extend grace more.  

So, for me, relapse is a good thing.

It's Christmas Eve & I still got shopping to do.  (It's not procrastination if you plan to shop at the last minute, right?)  So, anyways, I'm done for now.

That Sound, That Horrible Sound!

Night before last, my 3-year-old, Fischer, woke me up about 2:00 a.m.  "Mommy, my tummy hurts. Can I sleep in your bed?"

First of all, the answer was, "No."  But we happen to have a random crib in our bedroom in which I placed him.  So he was sort of sleeping with us.  And sure enough, I checked his forehead and he was running a fever.  Gave him some Ibuprofen and rolled back into bed.  Just long enough to doze off before the 1-year-old started crying...typical night at our house.

Secondly, BLESS HIM for giving me warning.  He ended up never being tummy sick that night, but many of you mothers and fathers have been there...

I mentioned in a previous blog that I don't do anything quickly.  I move like molasses.  I think like molasses.  Until I started writing no one ever accused me of being funny because I thought of all my witty comebacks after the conversation was over and everyone had left the room.

But it only takes one time of waking up with vomit in your hair, of needing to replace every pillow you own, and of a disgusting brown stain forever on your mattress to train your body to move like lightning...

It's not unusual for my little ones to end up in bed with us before the night is over.  It results in disaster from on occasion.  Sometimes my husband wakes up to a backache from getting kicked throughout the night.  Sometimes I end up with a blinding headache from a head-butt that made me cry out in agony. (And yet Kellen didn't even break rhythm in his snore.)  Other days it's a diaper that leaked on your freshly washed sheets.  These first few mentioned...are disasters for pansies.  

The apocalypse of bedtime disaster is throw up.  I have become so trained that I can be in the most beautiful, deep, hard sleep and my brain WILL register the sound of a tummy rumble as it comes up the esophogus.  0.08 seconds after it starts my husband & I can be up out of bed, yelling, and running with the baby to the bathtub.  I'm really surprised I haven't face planted a baby into the wall because I've managed to have them into the bathroom before I've managed to actually pry my eyelids apart or have flipped a light switch.

Then you get to spend an hour or two cleaning up.  Usually I end up cleaning the baby and the bathroom while my sweet husband drunkedly scrubs the carpet and the bed.

It really does make for an adventurous evening as you collapse in exhaustion on top of a mattress covered in towels and wrap yourself in a musty blanket from the linen closet and pray that it doesn't happen again.

Thank you, Lord, for my wonderful washing machine with a "Sanitary" cycle.

Parenting changes everything to the core or your DNA.  It can make a slow person fast.

Day 5: I am Thankful for Hope

I am thankful for hope.

It's December.  It's Christmas time.  All the commercials and all the TV specials are about the Spirit of Christmas. 

Random Rant: Excuse me, CHRISTmas.  "Don't take the CHRIST out of Christmas." Am I the only one who is SO tempted to post 30 days of happy Christmas wishes on Facebook & only use "Xmas?" Just to be ornery?  No?  It's just me then.  I'm so twisted. 

Back on task, you know the commercials & the music & the cheesy family friendly movies that talk about giving and hope and fairy dust wishes with sparkling lights on top? 

Well, when I talk about hope, I'm not talking about that kind.  I'm talking about something a little more tangible and a little less fuzzy.  When I'm in the dark places of depression and mental illness, all that superficial joy-joy just makes me mad.  It's kind of like rubbing a cheese grater on my skin. 

But there is definitely something to be said about real hope:

1) There's the belief that something good can come out of something bad.  The most amazing people have all been through hell.  Their travel through darkness is what made them amazing.  Examples: Corrie Ten Boom, Nick Vujicic, Rosa Parks, Nelson Mandela, Mother Theresa and Abraham Lincoln.  Incidently, President Lincoln also suffered from depression.  

2) The knowledge that situations always eventually change.  It's not always for the better but know that if it can get worse it also can get better.  I am a deep believer in Christ, but realize that even those who are not "religious" recognize that life is moving, always changing.  There is an appropriately named "It Gets Better" campaign.  Celebrities like Tim Gunn speaking out to those who are facing despair over the struggle of sexual identity or other personal issues.  They speak of the changes that life naturally brings as it ebbs and flows.  Life is dynamic, not stagnant. 

3) My final statement of hope is through my own relationship with God, with Christ.  Even when I really can't see a way out of darkness, I understand the power He has.  He usually doesn't, but I know He has the power to speak a single word & all my pain will be washed away instantly.  It used to make me angry when I thought of His ability and the fact that He wouldn't just magic the agony away.  It no longer does.  Instead I find comfort and HOPE that He's walking me through the pain. 

I realize that not all who read this blog have the relationship with God I am talking about.  Many of you may not even believe Him.  But at least, if not all 3 points, consider the first 2.  There is real tangible hope out there.

My kids have woken from their naps, so I'll have to be done for now.

Day 4: I am Thankful for Seasons

^{"There is a time for everything and a season for every activity under the heavens:}

   ^{a time to be born and a time to die,}

   ^{a time to plant and a time to uproot,} 

   ^{a time to kill and a time to heal,} 

   ^{a time to tear down and a time to build,} 

   ^{a time to weep and a time to laugh,} 

   ^{a time to mourn and a time to dance,} 

   ^{a time to scatter stones and a time to gather them,} 

   ^{a time to embrace and a time to refrain from embracing,} 

   ^{a time to search and a time to give up,} 

   ^{a time to keep and a time to throw away,} 

   ^{a time to tear and a time to mend,}

   ^{a time to love and a time to hate,} 

   ^{a time for war and a time for peace."  Ecclesiastes 3:1-8 (NIV)}

^{I know that you are now singing that song quietly under your breath.  I know you are because "I sure are."  We'll give an obligatory nod to The Birds...and move on.}

^{You know the seasons: Summer, Fall, Winter, and Spring.  I, however, live in Alaska.  The joke up here is that we have four seasons as well: Almost Winter, Winter, Still Winter (a.k.a. "Break-up"), and Construction.}

^{Just like the weather, life is full of seasons.  Following my own life there's my childhood, my teen years, my college years, my newlywed years, my career years, and I am currently in right smack dab in the chaos-ensuing...er, child rearing years.}  

^{Each season has it's own situational challenges, logistical challenges, and emotional challenges.  Unfortunately, we don't have the predictability as to a timeline.  I don't know how long any one season of challenge will last.  It different for every challenge and for every person.  And so it is.}  

^{Another way to say it is, "This too shall pass."} 

^{I had a pre-babies figure that I did not even appreciate enough.  "This too shall pass."  I had period of illness that put me on disability and drove us into the ground financially.  "This too shall pass."}  

^{(Nerd out moment: Are you picturing the scene with Gandalf and the Balrog? Because I  am.  I totally am.)}

^{My 1st season of depression lasted for 20 years.  My next season of joy and freedom lasted for about 18 months.  Whatever this current season will be, it will be just that, a season.}  

^{And the seasons have taught me that God is good.  He is for our good.  We really get to see it if we can relax and trust our lives, hearts, fears, weaknesses and deep emotions to Him.  I just have to hold on and ride it out.} 

"But those who trust in the Lord will find new strength.
      They will soar high on wings like eagles.
   They will run and not grow weary.
      They will walk and not faint."  Isaiah 40:31 (NLT)

It was pointed out to me that we don't walk & soar at the same time.  There are days for soaring, when all is well.  And there are days for walking, when life is tough.  And to be honest, there are days, when I'm in darkness, when it is a struggle to fold the next piece of laundry and I am crawling...barely.  

But it's only a time period.  And in view of eternity it's really not very long at all.  

Speaking of seasons, today's season of "awake-ed-ness" is about over, so I'm going to be done for now.

Day 3: I am Thankful for Suffering

I grew up around the belief that God loves us and He's our Father & He'd never want us to be in pain.

“Which of you, if your son asks for bread, will give him a stone? Or if he asks for a fish, will give him a snake? If you, then, though you are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father in heaven give good gifts to those who ask him!"  Matthew 7:9-11 (NIV).

I bought this line hook, line and sinker.  

So what was wrong with me that I kept struggling with being sad virtually all the time.  For 20 years I might have a flash of happiness here and there, but it was only fleeting.  I was so unhappy.  What was wrong with me?  Why wasn't I like everyone else? Why didn't God fix me?

I prayed in the altar, cried in the altar, lingered in the altar.  Why, God....why?

It took years, but I started to notice something in my own study and through the teaching many wonderful biblical teachers.  Biblical heroes did not live the illness free, wealthy, happy American dream.  Far from it.    Paul had bad eyes.  Elijah and Moses both suffered from feeling overwhelmed or depressed.  Sarah laughed bitterly at the thought of having a child.  The New Testament Christians had their possessions seized, were put into prison, and murdered.

"Even though Jesus was God’s Son, he learned obedience from the things he suffered." Hebrews 5:8 (NLT)

Jesus Himself suffered.  He told us repeatedly that we, too, would suffer.  How can we think we are not supposed to suffer? 

There is something you're learning through your depression.  You are being made mature.  You are slowly becoming mature.  You are being made perfect through your depression.  It is a slow, painful process.  But one day you will understand.

A couple of good things that came out of my depression:

1. I really, really grasp joy.  After 20 years of depression, I received a healing.  I had that "joy unspeakable," finally.  And would you believe that it was worth it?  Don't get me wrong, mental illness isn't "fun" and I would have hoped to never see dark days again.  But I wouldn't undo those days either.  I don't believe that I would have understood joy if my life had been carefree.  I've seen the the black so I can understand the white.

Maybe you don't need sadness to comprehend joy.  Maybe you suffer in some other way.  Maybe you'll need poverty to appreciate wealth?  Maybe you'll need illness to love health?  I cannot speak about for your life, but I'd like to speak to your heart. 


2. I can possess compassion for others.  I'm a Texan.  I naturally lean towards that "pull yourself up by your bootstraps" and "shake the dust off your feet" mentality.  But though I'd like to think that I would be strong, powerful & independent on my own, I'm sooo not.  I have suffered therefore I am able to identify with suffering in others.  I can empathize.  I can weep with those who weep.  And these days, I can even laugh with those who laugh.

I heard a Christian counselor explain that most people are able to withstand any crisis, any grief, any sorrow as long as they feel there is purpose behind it.

You need to know, there is purpose for your suffering as well.

It's getting late and I need to go to bed.  I guess that means I'm done for now.

Day 2: I am Thankful for Professional Counseling

Obviously, I'm not going to be hitting you with a blog daily, per sey.  Oh, well. 

My husband & I met at college 16 years ago.  Derick & I dated for about 2 1/2 years before we got married.  The first 18 months or so we're pretty tumultuous.  In fact I had a usually meek, lovely friend who gently and bravely told me one day, "I think you're great.  I think Derick's great.  I'm not sure if you're good together."

My future husband described our woes to a trusted professor.  Dr. H. suggested Derick use one of the psychologist provided by the school to the students.  Was he bad enough off to need to see a counselor?  The professor then explained his personal view of the need for professional counseling.

You see, this professor was relatively new to the university.  He had actually spent many years working as a pastor.  He had a reputation for excepting the pastorship at a dying church with low attendance.  Over a period of years he would build it into a lively, thriving ministry.  He would then set up leadership within the church and seamlessly step out to take on another flailing ministry.

Dr. H. explained that he required his church staff to meet with a professional counselor regularly.  All married staff were also required to attend additional marital counseling.  If the church grew large enough to support one, he'd hire a professional counselor on staff.  This way church members could have access to therapy as well.  And he himself, an emotionally healthy individual, attended monthly sessions with a professional biblical counselor.  He and his wife also attended marital counseling semi-regularly and have a loving marriage.

Derick agreed to meet with the counselor.  Well, that highly trained professional needed only a few minutes with Derick to know that she needed to see ME.  He invited me to come so I did.  She was straightforward and told us that she didn't know if our relationship would work.  She wanted to see us separately. 

I was only mildly annoyed that I got 2-3 times as many sessions as my future spouse.  To be honest, at this point I was such an emotional wreck that I didn't really care; I just wanted to not feel like I was going crazy.  I worked through a plethora of trust issues.  I extended forgiveness to multiple souls.  I learned to give up some of my rigid independence.  About 6 months later, at another dual session with both Derick & me, the counselor said that she gave her stamp of approval towards what she expected to be a life-long, healthy marriage.

Fast forward 10 years.  I am struggling with depression.  I had discussions with my husband that there seemed to be this destructive circle that I, on my own couldn't seem to break free of, obviously.  I sought out professional counseling again.  Praise God, praise God! 

This round it took about a year of gut-wrenching work.  I owe my counselor a Costco pallet of Kleenex.  But after all those tears and all that snot, I finally had a breakthrough.  I had finally dealt with some of the nitty-gritty in my own heart: my self-hatred, my bitterness, and my walls of self-protection. 

Maybe you have noticed you too are in a vicious circle.  You swear each time that you won't make the same mistake again...and then you do.  You keep pulling yourself up by your bootstraps for a while but then fall down again.  Telling yourself to "get over it" isn't working.  Praying more isn't working.  Reading your Bible more isn't working.  Memorizing Bible verses isn't working.  Extensive altar time isn't working.

You've fought with the depression for years & the medication isn't going away any time soon.  You end up in that same fight AGAIN with your spouse.  Are you cutting again?  Are you drinking again?  Are you self-destructive in your behavior?  Are you chronically angry?  Are you chronically sad, sometimes a lot and sometimes mildly, but never really feeling better?  Why aren't you getting help?

Mostly, we don't want the stigma of  "going to a counselor."  The other argument I've heard, repeatedly, from several sources is, "I don't want to be in counseling for the rest of my life."  So you don't go at all?  Cancer is a long-term treatment plan but I don't recommend not treating cancer for fear of it taking a long time to deal with.  [BTW: there are times I have been able to deal with a single issue within 1 or 2 sessions.]


Finances can absolutely be an issue.  But many communities are working to get affordable care out there.  With a little bit of research, you should be able to find the resources available within your community.  (If you're reading this blog, you have the Internet.)  Also, if you have medical insurance, check with them.  Insurances have discovered that they spend less on physical problems of people who are emotionally healthy.  So, the math is on their side to pay for you to go. 

As a Christian, I insist on a certified professional biblical counselor.  Psychology is a relatively new, quickly-growing science.  There are some kooks out there.  But I can say after studying psychology...some in college (I was a Psych major for a year until I figured out that it was not my calling)...and being IN counseling, that so, so much of what this science discovers is already in the Bible.  An excellent resource is www.newlife.com where they have a listing of "certified-to-the-nines" counselors all over the country.  Check on their page for their radio program.  As you listen, you can begin to get a small sense of what a counseling session will be like. 

If you are not a believer, I still strongly encourage counseling.  Even non-Christian Psychology offers excellent, excellent coping skills.  There are ways to deal with strong emotions that are healthy and help one to grow versus get stuck in a cycle that hurts you & others around you.

Life happens.  Sometimes we manage to make bad things happen, sometimes bad things happen to us.  However it happens, we have scars. 

I am thankful for the abundant life God gave me in a counselors office.

I'm not done, but I'm done for now.

Day 1: I am Thankful for Medication

This is my story.  I am not judging your story.  Since, I'm sticking it out there for the world to see, you are welcome to judge my story.  I am not telling anyone what to do or how they should seek treatment.  I am not a counselor.  I am not a doctor.  I am not a preacher.  I am a "Depression-head." 

I'm starting big.  This one is controversial, especially in Conservative Christian circles...even more so in the Pentecostal/Charismatic circuit I've grown up in and around.

But I am thankful and I praise God for anti-depressants!  I firmly believe they were a gift He sent me from heaven.  I have been criticized for taking them, sometimes directly but mostly indirectly.  Those of you who are on them, perhaps secretly, know where I'm coming from.  But I've reached the point where I can honestly say that I don't care who cares. 

Understand, at my lowest point I was barely functioning at all.  I was doing good to keep my, at that time, two little ones in clean diapers.  Simply diapering was a struggle.  Being at work was a struggle. Going to church was a struggle.  ANY FORM of housework was a struggle.  (Still is, kinda.)  I can remember looking at my make-up on the counter in my bathroom & just the thought of putting it on was overwhelming.

For whatever reason, I never attempted suicide, but I knew I was in deep trouble when I had a thought of hurting my own innocent child.  I'd seen the news and this time period wasn't long after that one mother in Texas had drowned her 5 children.  I knew it could grow into something bigger than a thought.  I had finally reached a desperation point.  I went to my doctor.


Six weeks later my world opened up for the 1st time in my adult life.  The Zoloft started working.  I realized at that time, that I had been sick for years.  I understood how the rest of the "normal" world felt, and I could say that I hadn't felt "normal" since I was about 12 years old.


No one, will ever be able to convince me that my medication was not a gift from God.   We've all (depression heads) heard that voice from the pulpit, which then transfers that voice in our own mind.  The message varies slightly but...


"Anti-depressant medication means that you're not trusting God for healing."


I remember hearing one, well-meaning (or not) preacher had a message, "From Valium to Victory."  Actually, it was a Pentecostal preacher so it was more like, "From Valium to Victory-yah!"  He went on to decry the evils of psychological medication.  The church "uh-huh'd" and "Amened" all over that sermon.  And I knew I would never tell anyone about my meds.  I'd just keep it a secret. 

I've since learned that about a fourth of those "Amen-ers" were on medication, too.  And I'm tired of the secret life.

I've been criticized for not taking a more natural medication.  Somehow, Saint John's Wart was less offensive to God than Wellbutrin?  If I took that, it'd be a plant so I would still be trusting God?  I was told it had no side effects, but I know a lady who had some pretty horrendous side effects.  For those who've had relief from this herb, excellent.  I am all for those who'd like to take it, but I'd recommend being under the supervision of a professional no less than for those on Paxil.

People who take the meds are accused of just covering up/masking the symptoms of what's really causing the depression.  And this complaint, I actually agree with.  I know plenty of folks who are willing to take a Tylenol for their headache.  But what if the root of the headache is a sinus infection?  Can you not take a Tylenol and antibiotics at the same time?  Absolutely! Take that pain-killer until your sinus infection clears up.

I take the same approach with my happy-pills. There is a problem in my soul, an emotional scar causing my mental agony.  And I will continue to hunt out those wounds, clean them up, stitch them up, and let them heal.  Another gift from God.  In the meantime, I will take the special gift of medication He's given me and praise Him for it.  All good things come from our Father above.

I am thankful that I've seen a gradual shift towards depression in the Church.  More knowledge is getting out there and along with that knowledge more compassion.  I have many friends and family who are Christian...and Charismatic...and even Pentecostal who have been superbly supportive.  

I took anti-depressants for about 10 years.  I am blessed not to be on them right now.  But there may be a day when I need them again.  In fact, I'm considering it now.  But I refuse to think of it as a moral failing.  It takes a special kind of courage to ask for help. 

I'm not done, but I'm done for now.



P.S.  Anti-depressants are no light & lively thing.  For those who are unaware, it can be a trying time, if you know you've reached the point you need medication.  They can take 2-6 weeks to start working.  At that time, you may start to feel better.  Or you realize that this medication is not the right drug for you because it's not working or the side effects are too severe.  So, then you have to spend a few weeks weaning off the medication.  Then you get to start the new medicine.  And it takes 2-6 weeks to start working...etc.  Give an extra measure of grace to those you know going through this cycle.

What I am Thankful For: Depression

Throughout November, many have been posting what they are thankful for on Facebook or Twitter or the like, something different each day.  Simply because I have a well-ingrained rebellious streak, I refused to jump on that bandwagon.  I'm apparently too cool to do what everyone else is doing. Right?

But I have had a running theme over the last couple of months.  I have run into conversation after conversation with many, many friends regarding depression.  So many people suffer from it and so few of us that do are willing or even able to talk about it. 

I'm going to talk about it.  I'm going to put myself out there because I am now blessed to know that I'm not alone in my suffering.  But so many of you, my friends, don't realize how "not alone" you are.

I also know that when it comes to this subject, I can be very long winded.  So it's going to go into the blog instead of a post with their annoying little limitations. 

More to come...

I No Longer Know Kung Fu

In a previous post, I bragged about my potato-peelin', potato-choppin', potato wranglin' skills.

See My New Ninja Skill.

I briefly mentioned my one and only other quick skill....typing.  I have, for years, been able to type faster than a Pentecostal, Holy Spirit hop kick dance in the center aisle at one of those services where they end up never preaching just singing the whole time.  (It's okay.  I can tease them because I've done the dance.)

I have sadly, lost this amazing ability.

I am currently on the hunt to trace the origin of the problem.  My finger joints aren't swollen and my arms aren't paralyzed, so it's not physical.  Perhaps it's mental because typing most definitely requires more concentration than before.  I can still type with my eyes closed, so I still have something jiggling around up there in my head.  It hasn't all falled out.

I have been a little more pressed for time this past week due to having sick kiddos and being sick myself, but in the past, not having as much time has always sped me up, not slowed me down.  I type well under pressure.

Ah HA!

Bingo!  I figured it out.  Move over Sherlock Holmes, this new detective has passed elementary.

It's the kids.  The reason I no longer type quickly is simply because I had kids.  It's all their fault!

See?

Kids are awesome...and expensive...they sure can be expensive.

Harry Potter vs. Jesus

I had a friend who let her daughter go to Vacation Bible School.  My friend is delightful, funny and a wonderful mother, but she is not a believer. 

Did her “unchurched” daughter come back from VBS describing the joyous news that God loves her?  Did she describe how we can be rescued from death & sin by accepting the sacrifice Jesus made on the cross?  Did she tell her mother that we can one day live in God’s presence and have experiences greater than anything we could ever imagine?

She did not.  This precious little girl told her mom they needed to throw away their Harry Potter books and movies.  These movies were bad & they made God unhappy. 

It made me so sad.  The mom was offended and declared that her girls weren’t going to VBS anymore.  Having been hurt in the past by a church, it was just one more example to her of how awful “organized” religion was. 

I’m irked.

First of all, so what if they did give up Harry, maybe even burning all things Rowling in the backyard charcoal?  Or vampires?  Or Pokemon?  This action does not bring them even one step closer to salvation or God’s pleasure.  What the girl is describing to her mother had nothing to do with the Gospel.  It’s moralism.  “Be a good girl & God will love you.” 

There’s the quintessential picture of Jesus.  He had perfectly coiffed hair and soft blue eyes.  He’s has a glow of love and peace and all things pixie dust about him.  He’s so quiet & gentle.

Until He encounters religious moralists leading others into religious moralism... 

“Woe to you, teachers of the law and Pharisees, you hypocrites! You travel over land and sea to win a single convert, and when you have succeeded, you make them twice as much a child of hell as you are.”  Matthew 23:15 NIV

In this single verse he calls the religious moralist a hypocrite and a child of hell.  Read Matthew 23.  He calls them “blind,” “white washed tombs” and even murderers. 

How very Gandhi of Him. 

So I tried to reassure my friend that not all churches or Vacation Bible Schools are the same.  My sons attended a VBS down the street where they were repeatedly presented with the Gospel message.  The children may or may not have given their lives to Christ, but they most certainly knew how to by the end of that week.   

And I am so very grateful to VBS and its ministry when done well.  After all, I was saved at a VBS when I was nine. 

My New Ninja Skill

For the most part, my husband, Derick, stays away from my on-line life.  He loves & supports me in my silly hobby but it's not really his thing.  

But something happened & he said, “Blog about it.  You need to blog about it.” 

The event? 

I peeled & cut up a potato in less than two minutes.

I.am.a.potato.ninja.

To truly appreciate my prowess you have to know that I’m a slow cook.  Whatever amount of time the recipe card says it’s going to take…for me…I gotta double it.   

You see, I’m a slow walker.  I’m a slow cleaner.  I’m a slow launderer.  I’m a slow shopper.  I'm a slow driver.  I'm a slow bill payer (the time it takes to organize & do it, not necessarily when it's paid.)  You see the pattern. 

The only thing I have ever, ever done quickly in my entire life is type.  I can type like Speedy Gonazales. 

Now there are two things I do fast. 

Celebrate the little victories.

Instant potatoes, Schminstant potatoes. 

The Flip-Side of the Properity Gospel's Blessings

In all of my church going years, I can only remember one preacher ever actually owning up that he believed and preached the Prosperity message.   Most preachers would never claim such a thing.  Most teachers would be aghast to be accused of pushing this theology.  

I have to say that the doctrine is generally presented more subtle rather than outright.  It’s the cultural norm for Evangelicals.  I mean, we all know that God would be most glorified by my life being “pretty.”  Pretty house, pretty family, pretty car…me being pretty skinny (ESPECIALLY skinny!) with blond highlighted streaks, right?

Just so us churchy folks know, that doesn’t make non-believers want to know & love the God of the universe.  It either results in them chasing OUR pretty life (and chasing our pretty life does not equal to pursuing God) or in them being just plain disgusted with us in general.  Messy is more realistic and relatable. 

But as I said, it we’re living our lives according to the rules of the Good Book, we’ll end up with that pretty life.  But what if you love God, with all your heart, and your life is a mobile disaster? 

This is the flip-side of the Prosperity gospel message that I found myself wrestling with this week:

Now, if I follow God’s rules and I am blessed…then what happens if I screw up?  If I break the rules then I am cursed.  This is the logical follow through. 

You see, I’m a rule follower.  I like to know the rules and parameters of things so that I can be in control of my world.  Order is good.  Chaos is therefore bad.  It’s simply a part of my personality and I’m pretty sure that if I can come up with -and stick to- a beautiful list, my world would be grand. 

But maybe it’s not just a “part of my personality.”  I just figured out this week that I’ve been living my entire life for the waiting proverbial hammer to fall.  If I break “the rules” then the curses of God are going to rain down on my head.  And at some point, I am going to break the rules and I am scared. 

For instance, I get sick at my stomach while grocery shopping because if I don’t make wise choices, God is going to curse our finances even more than they already are cursed because we’ve been less than perfect in the tithing department.  What Evangelical hasn’t heard the sermon where God crying over you because He wants to bless you and He just can’t because you haven’t tithed?  He’s so sad because you’re so bad. 

I think it even translates into areas that aren’t specifically addressed in Scripture, but have been taught as if they were.  For example, I do occasionally find myself suddenly wracked with guilt because my boys are going to grow up to be promiscuous, drug dealing drunkards because I’m not homeschooling them. 

I know that giving is a principle He wants for us, to teach us to be generous, to trust Him and not hold onto this world so tightly.  But I think I tend to take the “Do this” and “Don’t do that’s” to an extreme.  I’m not looking at it quite right.  

I feel that the Holy Spirit has blessed me in pointing out my false thinking this week.  Now, I’m praying that He helps me to move from a cognitive understanding to an emotional understanding.  I need to wrap my thoughts to be more like Paul’s. 

Paul, the great Paul, didn’t despair in his failures.  He actually rejoiced in them instead.  So it’s obvious he didn’t see his failings as a reason for God to pour curses down upon him. 

Even Paul struggled.  But he didn’t mess up & then cower in fear & guilt in a hidey hole.  Instead he took this view of his messy life:

“So to keep me from becoming proud, I was given a thorn in my flesh, a messenger from Satan to torment me and keep me from becoming proud.  Three different times I begged the Lord to take it away. Each time he said, “My grace is all you need. My power works best in weakness.” So now I am glad to boast about my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ can work through me.  That’s why I take pleasure in my weaknesses and in the insults, hardships, persecutions, and troubles that I suffer for Christ. For when I am weak, then I am strong. (2 Corinthians 12:7b-10 NLT)

God’s not standing over me reluctantly waiting to pour out a bucket o’ curses over me.  Instead, He actually delights in me when I screw up & am humble enough declare I just need His help. 

Counter Productive Motherhood

I love my boys.  I often joke that my entire purpose is to make sure the boys arrive at the age of 18 and post-high school graduate alive.  Of course, we all know it’s a little more complicated than that, but there are definitely days I decide to keep it simple. 

So, why did I go shopping with my eight-year-old, Wyatt, to buy a skateboard? 

Cons:

1.  He’s fearless.  When they boys go snowboarding or sledding, it’s Wyatt who screams, “Whoo HOOOOoooo….,” as he goes flying by.  It’s so funny to watch the 10-year-old, Addison, observe, sigh, & then repeat the same action just because he can’t let Wyatt show him up completely.

2.  We live on a hill.  There’s even a street on this hill that runs in front of our house.  (Imagine that).  Even worse, cars occasionally drive on said street. 

3. He dresses and looks like a skater.  I’m only encouraging him.  It won’t be long before he starts saying, “Dude” and listening to hard rock music. 

I suppose there are also Pros:

1.  He’s fearless.  I’ve watched him repeatedly pull of stunts that I didn’t think possible for a skin and bones little boy.  Maybe, some of this courage can cross over into other areas of his life as he grows and faces challenges.  And I’ve already seen one example of how he encourages those  around him to push themselves a little harder. 

2.  We live on a hill.  I remember being 8.  It’s a God given slide, a playground.  We’re in a neighborhood teeming with a plethora of children that make use of the hill out front and the creek at the bottom.  Thankfully, the streets curvy and crowded and it’s virtually impossible to speed through it. 

3.  He dresses and looks like a skater.  He has always danced to a different drum than the boys around him.  He has long hair and he loves to cook…and play football (especially if tackling’s involved.  I mean, LEGAL, ENCOURAGED hitting?  Awesome!)  It won’t be long before he starts saying, “Dude” and listening to hard rock music.  But we’re kinda West Coast so I think, “Dude” is inevitable.  And then we can chat because I love hard rock music. 

On a mommy note: I did make him buy pads with his own money.  I am shooting for 18 after all. 

Oprah Butter

So I’m really into real food.  I wanna be able to pronounce it.  I wanna be able to, at least theoretically go outside and pick it or kill it.

It started when my husband was diagnosed with diabetes.  I started reading labels for sugar contents.  I quickly learned that our entire culture is has two settings:  Vibrate and crash.  There’s a copious amount of sugar in everything.  It’s entirely too ridiculous. 

Reading labels for sugar soon led to reading for other ingredients and I grew more and more indignant.  How dare they.  For further reading into angerhood check out: Weird Food Additives by Marye Audet-White

So after creeping myself out with the lurid details of processed food, I learned to cook more & more healthy, natural.  Until I was bucked off my single ingredient high horse by….THE BUDGET.

Completely necessary for our family’s financial well-being, I’ve been cooking more and more from scratch.  I got creative.  The Internet is the best resource for how to make your own EVERYTHING! 

But, as y’all all know [I know, but I’m a native Texan], gas prices have gone up driving up the price of everything else.  Living in Alaska, we can really feel the crunch.  The salaries, according to the talking heads, haven’t kept up.  Our household reflects this trend, despite my hubby’s butt busting at a good, stable job. 

So I had to lower my standards.  It KILLED me but, I started buying “fruit juice drinks” instead of 100% juice for my kid’s school lunches.  I switched to less than 100% whole wheat bread.

Oh, the humanity!

I finally made a switch that puts me on par with the devil.  I dropped real butter.   I bought “spread.”  To know what this change means to me…my dairy farmer Granddaddy did not just roll over in his grave.  He’s break dancing. 

When my parents divorced, I was a teenager and the one thing I asked my mother not to change, “Please, keep buying real butter,” and she did. 

BUT, I bought Country Crock and, meh.  But Country Crock is the most expensive fake butter so I got and even cheaper spread.  I was scared but it turned out that it was not horrible.  

I got The Best Life buttery spread.  Derick opened the fridge and declared, “You got Oprah butter.” 

Yes, our family is eating Oprah butter.  Even Fischer calls it Opwah butt-o. 

So all that to say, I prefer butter, real butter.  Please choose butter.  But if y’all need an alternative, Oprah butter can be an option.  

Prosperity Gospel

I am a child of modern day Christian evangelicalism.  I mean, you honestly can’t get much more so than me.  I was homeschooled in the 80’s and early 90’s.  I went to Dawson McAllister conferences.  I saw you at the Pole (or at my friend’s school’s pole because again, I was homeschooled).  And I signed my True Love Waits card.  My musical influences were not Madonna or Michael Jackson.  It was Amy Grant, Michael W. Smith and Petra listened to very quietly in my room at night because I wasn’t allowed to listen to “Christian Rock.” 

So, I have some credentials.  Now onto today’s subject:

Lately, it has become commonplace to for pastors and theologians vilify the Prosperity Gospel doctrine.  This is a belief system that basically says that God loves us, He wants the best for us, and if we will follow the principles listed in the Bible then He will pour out his blessings on us.  Our finances will prosper, our mental and physical health will prosper, and our relationships will prosper. 

Some of the more common verses I’ve heard preached on or taught about:

 Malachi 3:10 - Bring all the tithes into the storehouse so there will be enough food in my Temple. If you do,” says the Lord of Heaven’s Armies, “I will open the windows of heaven for you. I will pour out a blessing so great you won’t have enough room to take it in! Try it! Put me to the test! (NLT)

Or

John 10:10 - "The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy; I came that they may have life, and have it abundantly. (NASB)

I firmly believe in the Prosperity Gospel message. 

Ok, now I need to back up a bit. 

In my head, I also believe the Prosperity Gospel doctrine to be in complete error. 

1) One of the 1^st things we learned in Bible college (I told you I had some cred) is that the Bible has to be interpreted against the rest of the Bible.  Meaning, you can’t just pick out 1 or 2 verses that support your belief and run with that.  You have to see what the rest of the Bible says to balance out the subject…keeps one from becoming an extremist. 

For instance, if the above verses were true, across the board, in every situation, what do I do with the situation of John the Baptist, or Stephen the Martyr, or of even Jesus Himself at the crucifixion?  It would seem that God’s idea of prosperity and the American Christianity’s idealism of prosperity are two different things. 

2) Real life.  Kids get sick.  Dads lose jobs.  Tragic car accidents take away someone’s teenager each and every day.  Happens. 

But my dissidence comes when bad stuff happens to me.  I find that I struggle with being angry and bitter against God.  “Why did this have to happen?  Why now?  How could You do this to me?” 

In other words, I hold an expectation of prosperity in my heart.  I've convinced myself that God owes me.  So at some point, I’ve bought Prosperity Gospel hook, line, and sinker.  I want this doctrine out.  The bitterness and the depression it drags along with it have been a life-long battle for me and I’m asking the Holy Spirit daily to get the following counter-thoughts into my soul.

1) I don't control God.  We don't control God.  God is not subject to a formula.  Yes, if I live according to wise biblical principles, I will avoid many pitfalls but He does not have to answer to me.  He’s kinda bigger than that.  “If I do the right thing, then A, B and C will happen.”  But when X comes along instead, my faith is shaken.  I have a lot of friends that don’t go to church anymore because of some great disappointment.  They did all the right stuff and crap still happened.  Bad stuff happens to good people.  Period.  See the story of Job or read about Paul being beaten, put into prison and then beheaded.

2) Faith in God is trusting in Him, not telling Him what to do.  He’s got a very big picture view of the universe, the Church, and my own life.  He is completely prepared to give me some nasty circumstance…if it will build my character, if it will prove His faithfulness, or if it will simply bring Him glory.  He is good – but he is gooder than my present happiness.  He is for long term (eternal even) joy.  And He’ll let me go through a lifetime of misery here, if it will bring about His glory. 

This seems to be my battle.  I may yet one day have complete victory over bitterness and resentment, but I may not.  I may have to fight the lies I bought in my evangelical youth for the rest of my days on earth, but I will bless God while I do and trust the Holy Spirit to continue to weed out my soul. 

One Thing I Totally Don't Get

WWE, Smackdown, RAW, etc.

This oddity is a primarily masculine American cultural phenomenon.  The speeches between the wrestling matches sound like testosterone laden soap operas.  I do NOT get it but my boys eat it like candy.

Speaking of candy, do you know researchers say that sugar doesn't actually affect children's behavior? 
[Whew, that was a nice rolling of the floor laughing moment.  I'm wiping tears from my eyes]  I remember the first time I let Wyatt drink a Sprite...non-caffeinated, high-fructose liquefied carbonated sugar.  The result was something like this...minus the creepy...add giggles.

Researchers are wrong, I don't care what their data says.

Researchers also say that there's no correlation between teething and snotty noses in babies.  Cue the rolling of mommy's eyes.  Kellen is teething now and he's snotty.  Maybe it is just a coincidence but there has been an awful lot of repetition of this exact coincidence.

Researchers are wrong, I don't care what their data says. 

Now, researchers say there's a correlation between watching entertainment wrestling shows and increased violent behavior of boys. 

Researchers.are.dead.on.

I can be in my bedroom and know the moment Derick & the boys start watching WWE in the living room.  The house begins to shake.  It's a physical impossibility for the kids to sit still and watch this show.  My poor ottoman receives so much abuse.  Kellen, the 13-month-old can hardly toddle, but in my imagination I've seen him tap the underside of his elbow and pile drive into his older brothers.

But Derick and the boys love this stuff.  It's something they enjoy doing together and can talk about together so I'm not going to complain too much.  Plus, I tend to get more housework done while they pummel each other..er...watch WWE.  

Meanwhile, I am so thankful we live in an earthquake prone area.  We live in a duplex style house & I'm crossing my fingers that the neighbors blame nature.  I'm fooling myself, but denial can be great.

Addendum (December 2011): The neighbors moved.

Alone Time

My husband braved watching the four boys without me so I could get "alone time."  Don't tell the kids, 'cause I'm pretty sure they'd hunt me down.  They cannot stand the thought of my being alone.  Ever.  Ever.  Ever.

Other moms will know what I'm talking about.  You see Sheldon made it funny to everyone else, but I think - not so much.

Knock, knock. "Penny!"  Knock, knock, "Penny!"  Knock, knock "Penny!"

Except in the scene in my house, I'm not in my own apartment but I'm daring a trip alone to the bathroom:

Knock, knock. "Mom!"  Knock, knock. "Mom!"  Knock, knock.  "Mom!"

"What?!"

Pause..."Whatcha doin?"

"I'm using the bathroom."

"Can I have a ____ ?"  [Insert snack option that inevitably requires my help.  This is not the time, say, to request of glass of water.  No, at this time the boy on the other side of the door will ask for milk...from the new jug.   This beverage is, of course, too heavy for him to pour himself.]

"Isn't your dad in the kitchen?"

"Oh, I didn't think of that."

At this point I smack my hand to my forehead.  I'm supposed to raise these kids to a relative expectancy of adult self-sufficiency right?  My work is cut out.


BUT - today, my husband let me leave, God bless him.  So I'm drinking a latte and enjoying my freedom and not listening to the one-year-old whimper on the other side of the door because he's on the other side of the door.

Here we go!

This is my 1st blog post!  Wow!  Good stuff.