Indescribable

Let know one tell you to snap out of it. Depression is not something a person chooses. It is not a condition that can be remedied like washing the stench of sweat away after an intense workout. I know. I have dealt with depression my entire life. However, it has been a long, long time since it has lingered this long. Throughout my adult life, I developed skills to cope, and managed to muddle through after a rough day here and there. To experience this state of mental decline for almost two weeks now is unusual, and is, quite frankly, getting on my nerves.

I ask myself why? I know why I am depressed. This bout started on the afternoon of Sunday August 12 after I read that email from the book agent, declining my work with no explanation. It got a bit worse the next day after learning I did not get the job I had applied for the week prior. But, why is it lingering?

I have received rejections from agents before – several dozen – all except one or two are form letters. Rejection is nothing new. In the past, I even prided myself on being among the greats. Dostoyevsky, my literary hero, was a literary joke in his day. He was not taken seriously, and even spent time in debtor’s prison in Siberia. (Anyone who knows me and knows my secret desire to go back to Russia, and specifically to Siberia, this is why.) Today’s market is even harder, in some ways, to break into as a legitimate writer. With the explosion of the internet, and people able to publish at a whim on their own, it is even more difficult to be taken seriously as a writer.

I even tried to cheer myself up last night by watching the movie Genius about Thomas Wolfe (1900-1938 – not the white-suited Tom Wolfe of The Right Stuff fame who recently died.) He was a literary genius, but every publisher in town turned him down before Perkins took a chance on him.  

So, I’m in great company. This used to be enough to encourage me out of my depressive state. Why did these thoughts and efforts not work this time?

The job – money situation. I have applied for close to 50 jobs – some I am over qualified for, some I am under qualified for, some that would be perfect based on my skills and abilities. Of those 50 something applications, only one call for an interview, and zero job offers.

I have been here, too. Something always comes up, and this is no different. I have been fortunate enough to pick up a little extra work here and there, so bills are getting paid. So, why is this weighing so much heavier on me now?

Maybe it’s the therapy. If that is the case, then maybe the lingering depression is a good thing. My counselor once told me that I have a disconnect between my head and my heart. She said that when I talk about things, it’s as if I am telling her a story of something that happened to someone else.

She is absolutely correct. That was always one of my best coping mechanisms. My problems became the problems of one of the characters in my story. I disconnected from the pain of my own experiences.

However, the whole reason I am seeking counseling is because I want to do things differently. I want to do the hard work to change. I promised myself as much after my divorce, but I was not getting very far on my own. I needed help.

So, I set out to figure out how to let my heart have its say – instead of my head telling my heart what to feel, and my heart readily acquiescing. I have been working very hard on this – giving my heart space to feel and think for itself. I tell you, it’s not easy, but as my counselor reminds me, I am human, not a machine. If I want to be an effective minister, I have to be able to do what I suggest others do. Lead by example, as they say.

Given that I am trying to give my heart independent space, is this depression a result? Would the other rejections have been hard had I allowed my heart to mourn?

Is it because during those other times, I really wasn’t ready and I thought I was this time? That is true as I look back on things. The writing – I struggled with writing as myself or using a fake name. I wanted to separate the two lives. The writing is so personal. I knew I could not handle the rejection. The rejection of the work, I felt, would be a rejection of me. There was no way I was stable enough emotionally to be a true, legitimate writer, when so many critics are out there, ready to tear the writing and the writer to pieces.

Now, I feel strong enough, certain of who I am as a child of God and a writer. I have admitted to myself and others that my writing comes from a very personal place. I am ready to own that and accept that. Maybe that is why rejection hurts so much worse. I believe I am finally ready for whatever is waiting on the other side of publication.

Work – after leaving Belmont, I was worn out – the hours, the responsibility. The job, at the end, aged me. I needed time and space from that level or responsibility and demand.  I was fine with just getting by. Now, I am ready to do and be more – have a place where I feel like I belong and am contributing – like I did at Belmont. I am ready to do more than just get by – pay off debts, save, be able to pitch in around the house. I’m ready to be a grown up again financially, but it’s not happening. Maybe that’s why the rejection hurts more this time.

The depression has gotten to the point where all I want to do is sleep. I wake up tired. I look forward to going back to bed. The only thing on my to-do list getting done is the have-tos. The want -tos and need-tos are getting pushed back day after day. Even my prayers are suffering. I cannot focus. I cannot even journal. Even my standby prayers “Just say Jesus”, “help”, “I believe, help my unbelief” are dry and stale and rote. That’s the problem – I can’t even simply go through the motions. If it weren’t for Bailey standing on my chest, constantly pawing at me until I finally give in and get out of bed, I would probably spend all day in bed. That’s how bad it has gotten.

Each morning, I try again. My devotional did not work. Reading the Bible did not work. I tried journaling, trying to get at the root of the problem so that we could fix it. Even that was not working. I was about to give up and get lost in a book. Then, a still small voice.

Get up. Make your shake. Go watch one of the Louie Giglio videos your friend lent you. I obeyed.

Indescribable – Louie described how vast the universe is – showing pictures from NASA. I was an astronomy geek as a kid. Wanted to be an astronomer at one point before I saw Top Gun and changed my desired career path to flying in the military.

Louie said, “I am not trying to make you feel small. I’m telling you you are small.”

The tears finally came. The release. Even before he said, it, I felt it – seeing those images, realizing how insignificant I really am. None of it matters. All these things, these accomplishments I think will make me something. None of it means anything. And this realization felt wonderful. It was a release from the pressure of having to carry the world on my shoulders. I am not even a grain of dust in the universe.

Still, as insignificant as I am, God loves me – ME – this blob of nothing, taking up this itty-bitty space for a fleeting second of time. He LOVES ME! I matter because He LOVES ME!

Nothing matters – yet everything matters. I thought how that translates into my life. What matters about my life if nothing matters? “email” that one word popped into my head.

I am an online missionary for Global Media Outreach. It is the coolest thing in the world. I don’t get paid for it, but on good days, this is my favorite part of the day – using my gift for words and writing, my love for Jesus, to communicate to people all over the world.

In my deepest depression, I lost all care or concern for this – not even able to go through the motions. What’s the point? This morning, he told me the point. HE is the point.

There are people all over the world who don’t know His indescribable love. Love. His love. That’s the point. That is the only point that matters.

Please, if you have ever felt the worthlessness of depression. If you cannot see your purpose. If you doubt His love, watch this:

https://youtu.be/AEh56ROJx48

The Cardinal

It has been a long time since I have done something for the sole purpose of enjoyment. I am such a serious person. I search for meaning in everything. Living this way steals joy without me even realizing it is gone. An email, a Bible Study, a sermon, a bird – a movie, a dream, and my counselor asking the right questions wrapped it all up for me.

Joy – this, for me, is pure joy – writing with no other purpose than the sweet aroma that words pouring out from my mind through my fingertips brings to my soul. I almost allowed an email to steal this joy from me.

After nearly six weeks, I received the much-coveted email from the agent I met and had a one-on-one pitch session with at a writing conference earlier this summer. She seemed so eager about my story and filled with ideas for publication. I allowed myself to believe my time had finally come. I have a dream – the extent to which only me, my counselor, and God know. This was to be the first step. As long as I didn’t receive the email, there was hope. Now, without any explanation or words of encouragement or criticism, I received this denial. I have a file filled with “thanks but no thanks” letters from agents and publishers from over the years, but this one was the only one that hurt because this time, I expected a hearty yes. This one hurt – deeply – painfully. You see, there’s very little I am certain about in my life. My gift for storytelling is the one gift I know, without a doubt, God lavished upon me.

For a fleeting moment, I contemplated giving it up, and never writing another word again. Then, God’s voice whispered in my ear. “Have your thoughts about me changed from two minutes ago?” I knew what He was asking. “Do I trust Him any less because of this kick to the gut?” No.

Yes, I still trust Him, but the hurt is still deep. The next day, I called to inquire about a job I interviewed for a week prior. They passed me over for someone with more experience. This hurt, too, but not nearly as bad, and for much different reasons. I need income. My savings is nearly depleted. I’m getting desperate. However, if I am honest with myself, I didn’t really want that job. As a matter of fact, if I am honest with myself, I really don’t want to be a social worker. And, I am not surprised one bit that I was passed over for that job – even though I fully expected to get it.

As I reflected on my answers to the interview, I realized my most passionate answers came from a place other than the skills and needs needed for that particular job. Had I been applying for a ministry or chaplaincy job, I think I would have nailed it.

That night, struggling with the ups and downs of my emotions, I received an email about a free online Bible Study called Defiant Joy. I signed up. Wink! Wink! – God

Last night, I watched a recording of Nashville First Church of the Nazarene’s 120^th Anniversary Homecoming service from this past Sunday. The man who was Associate Pastor when I was there came “home” to preach. His sermon knocked the wind out of me – in a good way. I need to keep my focus on Jesus. All these problems of mine arise when I lose focus.

Later the same night, I watched the Mandesa YouTube video for week one of the Defiant Joy Bible Study. I multitasked because she was terribly squirrely during the entire thing. In her defense, she admitted from the get-go that this was her first live chat, and that she struggles with squirrel moments.

However, when she got to the “funwork” part, I paused. One of the suggestions is to “play” this week. This gave me food for thought. When was the last time I did something without an agenda? Even ministry has an agenda. Granted, the agenda in ministry is vitally important (leading people to Christ), I could not remember the last time I had fun doing it. It’s not that I don’t love what I do, that I get no joy out of it. I do – very much. It fulfills me immensely. Still, I could not remember the last time I laughed until I could not breathe – played just because.

I thought about the day I played hooky and went to the river at Landa Park. When I came out of that cold water, I laughed for no particular reason. It felt great.  But, the last time I really laughed – nearly wet my pants, can’t breathe, snort, and laugh even harder because I don’t know why I’m laughing – the last time I laughed like that was with my friend, Mike.

The movie – Christopher Robin. Great movie, but it made me sad – nostalgic. Mike was my Eeyore and I was his Poor Bear. The movie brought back so many wonderful, and painful memories. He was the best friend I ever had. Nothing romantic. Nothing sexual. Simple, pure, deep friendship. He chose romantic love over our friendship. I chose to leave him completely rather than face the pain of losing him slowly.

I miss him.

I had a dream about Belmont. I often have dreams about Belmont. I go back to Nashville, back to Belmont security, and realize I belonged in Texas. This dream was even more vivid. I was like a rock star there. People who never knew me knew about me. My coming back was a big deal. The new chief was giving me a tour of the new campus and was going to train me himself. This caused quite a buzz in the department, people whispering about a possible romance budding.  

At first, I was overwhelmingly impressed with the changes on campus, and in the department. Then, he took me to Freeman Hall, with the mansion behind it. On either side was a very new, very modern, very hip café. At the top of the grand antique staircase, music row and all of downtown Nashville could be seen out of a huge picture window.

As soon as I looked out, I began to weep. I knew I didn’t belong here. I belonged back in Texas. The chief put his arm around me to console me. He asked what was wrong, and I told him. He asked, “Don’t you think you could learn to love Nashville again, for me?”

“No,” I cried. “You are part of the new, the future of Belmont. I am part of the past. I don’t belong here anymore.” I knew, even as I said these words, that by going back to Texas, I would be letting go of so much, including a chance to fall in love again, and that I would be going home to uncertainty.

During the NFCN sermon, Pastor Dale said you can’t go back.

I shared this dream with my counselor. One question she asked stumped me. She asked where the tears in my dream came from – why was I so sad?

As we talked it over, I shared the rest of the story, beginning with the sermon illustration – you can’t go back.

Mike – the last time I truly laughed – my best friend. I miss him. I miss what we had.

Play – the last time I remember playing is with Mike. What does play look like for me?

Writing – why did I stop blogging? My counselor has a great way of seeing past my words, catching my heart, my need to write, to express, regardless on whether or not anyone else will ever read it.

The question – why do I need to be more/do more – other than what/who I am?

Finally, the cardinal.

I have seen red birds around the house a lot the past few years. I once heard that these birds mate for life. I also heard somewhere to look for little blessings, things God sends for my eyes only. I saw these red birds as my little blessings. I loved watching the pairs fly off and frolic together. A while back, I saw it as a promise from God that one day, that special someone and I would work out.

Then, as those thoughts and feelings began to fade, I saw it more as God, saying “Hey, Renee. I love you!”

This morning, during my prayer time, I journaled about my special God moments with the birds, how they were like my pennies.

Shortly before leaving for my counseling appointment, Bailey wanted to go outside. I sat on the chair swing in the tree at the end of the driveway. I looked at the tree on the other end of the driveway, and there he sat, that beautiful, bright red cardinal. I felt joy.

“Hey, Renee. I love you!” Just for me. He fluttered around in the tree. I watched. Sometimes, the only way I knew he was there was by the shaking of the leaves. Other times, he came back to that spot and seemed to be looking directly at me. “Keep your eyes focused on me. Sometimes, I am easy to see, sitting plain as day in front of you. Other times, you may have to strain to see Me, but I’m still here, right in front of you. I’m always here. Keep your eyes trained on Me.”

Words are my gift. Words are my prayer. Words are the window into my soul. They are therapy, adventure, love, and devotion. Words are God wooing me. Words are joy. Words are my play.  

Warmth of the Son

What a brisk morning! Too cold to sit on the porch, so I am enjoying this beautiful morning sitting on my dad's chair.

 I have a table and chair that used to belong to my Dad when he was alive. He would sit and drink his coffee, read the paper, and talk to the neighbors. When Mom sold the house, I asked for the table and chair. On the table I also have his ash tray and I also put a coffee cup. The hanging planter above is an old fishing bucket with metal fish hanging from it. You see, my dad loved to fish.

Sitting here, I feel the breeze, but can also feel the warmth of the sun on my face. I can hear my big wind chime and all the sounds of nature. When I close my eyes, I can even hear the trees.

Funny how the wind is cold, but the sun is so warm. Made me stop and reflect how when we have trials in our life we are not alone. Jesus is always there by our side. He is the warmth on our face. We are never alone. 

 Lord, increase my faith and trust in you. Please tell my dad I miss him and thank him for me for all he did for me.

 

Laughter

Oh, what a glorious day. I have been sitting on my rocking chair enjoying this beautiful morning. I have done my prayers and have been listening to my Peaceful Morning music. I h
ave been reflecting on laughter. Yesterday and Friday evening I attended a woman's conference with my daughter and my friend, and one of the speakers was a comedian. Well, she started her talk by making us laugh, and then out of nowhere went into her life story. Her life had been hard, but when she found Jesus, she found JOY in her life.

It made me think of my favorite picture of Jesus that I have hung in my bathroom. My laughing Jesus.

I think some of us take life's trials too hard. We have to relax more. We need more joy and laughter in our lives. We need to laugh more.

I know two beautiful ladies by the name of Letty. And both are full of laughter. I love their joy and their laughter. One of them posts the funniest things and makes us all laugh. She seems to post them when I need a good laugh.

I sometimes seem to take life too seriously. Tony takes life too easy. I guess we help each other, for I know sometimes he takes it too easy.

Yes, we need to acknowledge life's responsibilities, but we also have to be sure that we have joy in our lives.

 When we have Jesus in our lives and we trust that he will take care of us, life becomes less stressful.
Jesus I trust in you.

Answering the Call

I am sitting here enjoying this glorious fall morning. How I love fall. 

I have been reflecting on yesterday. Tony and I both had doctor appointments. They were several hours apart, so we visited with some friend and family. Since we do not live in town we try to make the most of our time.

I had a great visit with one of my dearest friends. She is one of the two persons who I have review my meditations or talks before I give them. I shared with her how I was now teaching CCD, first year Confirmation. She was most surprised. Yes, I told her I was surprised I accepted. I shared with her why I said yes. 

 You see, the lady who asked me is a very sweet and loving person. I first met her on a trip to Poland. We really did not talk much on that trip. But several months after our return, she called and invited me to join the Garden Club. After we got to know each other, she shared something with me. She said that she had been really sad for some time and that my smile on that trip had brought joy back into her life. She thanked me.

 

Wow, I was shocked. Who would think that a smile could help a stranger? We talked that day and she shared her story. So when she asked me, I told her I would pray on it. She told me she would teach second year and I would teach first year. When the director called, I said yes.

My friend and I laughed. I know my writings have been for adults. I do not know why now I am asked to deliver to teens. But I know that is what our Lord is asking of me. 

Last night, one of the questions was how could they rebel against our culture. One student answered by being good, at first I said no. Then I thought about it and told that student that it was a great answer, for if you are in a group that is known to be bad, being good is a rebellion. Somehow I know that made that student feel good.

 

Last night, we also had a meeting for the parents and students. Several students did not want to stay, but they did. At the meeting, I watched that student. The student's parents were not there, and the student had told me the parents made the student come to class. As I watched the student's face, I could almost hear the student's thoughts. " You make me come, but you could not come."
As I looked at my students and heard what they said, I think I can almost tell which have love and family life and which don't. 

My hope is that somehow I can show God's love to all of them, and that they can feel God's love and presence.

Sometimes we are so quick to label them as bad students, but they need so much love a guidance. We only have them for an hour, but I know God is a powerful God.

 

May He send the Holy Spirit to open their hearts and souls to hear His voice and may he guide my words.

Let us all pray for all our young teens. They are faced with so much in our world today.
Jesus, I trust in you.

 

Waiting on God's Time

Have done my prayers and have just been enjoying my music, have some cd's with morning and evening music, and watching the animals. Watching the animals doing their thing,what is their nature. And doing some reflection on my life.

 Some time back we decided to get involved here in our community. It was hard leaving Saint Mary Magdalene. I had a good talk with Fr Joseph Mary, may he RIP, before we left. He understood. He said he would pray for me, I know he is still praying fo...r me up in heaven. Oh how I miss our talks.
Tony has been on team here and has been teaching CCD. (I had just been involved with the Garden Club. ) I had helped at send off and candlelight. I had been asked to direct a retreat, but due to my schedule I had to refuse.

This year I was asked to be Spiritual Director for the Women's ACTS retreat. It was an awesome experience to get to know all the ladies. I know that was how God wanted me to get to really know the ladies. I know coming in to direct a retreat where no one knows you would have been so hard. I have directed ACTS Missions retreats, but you bring in your team, people you know.

Two weeks ago, I joined the Altar Society. Last week, I joined the Guadalupanas, and I will be teaching CCD this year. 

 Tony and I were talking, and I told him how I regretted not joining before, and not getting involved sooner. Everyone has accepted me with open arms. Tony just said,"It was not the right time."
He was right. It made me think how everything happens in God's time, not our time. God is in control. 

 Maybe Saint Mary Magdalene needed me, or maybe I had to grow more and I needed all that wonderful time with Fr Joseph. 

 It made me reflect on how we sometimes want to rush things, how we want to be in control. But if we just trust in our Lord and let Him have control, all will work out according to His plan.
Jesus I trust in you.

 

Prayer for Our Children

I have been sitting here enjoying this beautiful morning. My favorite season is just around the corner. I have been think about the young 8th grader from New Braunfels, possible suicide. It is so heartbreaking. What could cause someone so young to be so desperate?

I have been reflecting on my 8th grade. Yes, it was a long time ago, but I can remember it as if it was yesterday. It was a wonderful time in my life. I remember looking forward to the 9th grade, to our graduation, to parties, to high school. 

We have 2 grandchildren in the 8th grade. I pray that they enjoy their year as I did. I pray for them and all my grandchildren and great grandchildren. 

 I look at our world, and all that is going on, and I worry about their future. But all I can do is keep them in my prayers and put their lives in God's hands. 

My Lord God, please watch over all my grandchildren and great grandchildren. Help them in school. But especially over Tyler and Hunter who are in the 8th grade. Keep them safe and close to you. May they enjoy this year like I enjoyed my 8th grade. May they look forward to their High School years.
Jesus I trust in you.

News link to the suicide in New Braunfels:
http://news4sanantonio.com/news/local/8th-grader-dies-after-being-bullied-in-new-braunfels