Chapter 1,001: In Which We Are Engulfed In Darkness

It's been rather gray lately.  A close friend noted the correlation between my silence here and my emotional.......well-being.

It's called depression.

I realize that, like, every American is "diagnosed" with it and over "medicated."  And "christians" shouldn't be "depressed" or see "professional counselors."  My life is too small--too Right This Very Minute to work on that one.  I can only handle so much.  And when I'm in the gray, all I can do is let it wash over me until it leaves me the heck alone.  That is a very hard thing to do.

I'm going to go out on a limb here and say I'm not the only woman in the world who likes to feel like she's in control.  I realized this most painfully when we lost our fourth baby in early pregnancy.  As soon as the gushing and contracting erased every hope I'd held on to for twelve motionless, sleepless hours, I felt totally and completely responsible.  I was guilty.
It was my fault.
Whether it was the deli meat or the glass of wine or moving heavy boxes, it was my fault that our baby wouldn't be born.
The first thing my midwife spoke into me as I sobbed over the phone was, "This is not your fault.  You didn't do anything to cause this, and you couldn't have stopped it."  I hadn't spoken a single word to her about my guilt.  She just knew it's how we women work.
A few weeks or months later I finally starting writing out the unspeakables.  That's when the Spirit so graciously pointed out:
"It's not actually your fault.  You have to believe it is, because you want to believe you can control even this."

Protective control, not manipulative.  Can I keep my man happy?  Can I keep my kids safe?  Can I make my friends like me?  That kind of control.  When things are good, I am ALL too glad to silently take credit for it.  "I am managing all this happiness for everyone, because I love them all so much."  But if I am going to take credit for the good, I must then take credit for the bad.  Enter in guilt.  And if my reasoning is that good things come from my abounding love and dedication, then what the heck am I to think of my Father when the bad comes to me?
I couldn't talk to him for a while after this had all happened.  I was afraid of what I might feel.  I was afraid of what I might say--that I might curse, out loud, the Lord of Hosts.

When I finally could......I sat on the floor, sobbing, and simply said, "I didn't want this!"  And I immediately felt that what was grieving my heart was grieving his.


In a much more annoying than painful way, that's how I feel about depression:  I don't want this; I don't have time for this.  No one in my life has time for me to be all sad and depressed and.....depressing.  There's the control thing again.  I want to believe I can control the state of happiness in those I love, so my gloom and doom is the worst thing I could ever do to them.  It's a bunch of crap.  I realize that.  But it's hard to remember when you're in the gray.  It's hard to remember anything productive then.
Inch by inch, I feel like the gray cloud is passing.  For the first time in weeks I've had one solid day of Okay.  I want to write down some things I've learned this time around.  But it's only been a day.  I need to get the ball rolling here, and then let it ruminate....

Astounding Grace

I'm really tired today.  Can I just be lazy and say what's on my mind as it comes to my mind even though it will be grammatically incorrect without the excuse of being poetic?

Let's say our house was "falling apart."  To us, it felt like it was.  We rented to the tune of $1300 a month for eight years--that's $124,800--and praised Jesus every time something went wrong 'cause we didn't have to pay for it.  So even though I can paint my living room trim a deep, gorgeous red and the floor antique green, pipes leak, the boiler breaks along with the bulkhead, the electric is nuts, and we replace the water heater.  No rejoicing there.  Doubting, questioning, worry.  

Guilt.  

What a fool!  I have a home.  I'm warm when I sleep.  My kids are safe and have never been hurt in the worst way.  Why are you bellowing about a freaking hot water heater?

And then we find out that we aren't technically eligible for the $750 rebate.  Had I, the white liar among all other white liars, been filling out the form, maybe we would have.  But my man is a Man.  He won't lie.  Not for money.  Not for anything.  So we're short the bank we thought was coming.  But God reminds us that the very day before the form filling, he sent us $700.

$700.

Not earned.

Not begged for.

Not prayed for.

Just given.

I remember he's always sustained us, so why not now?

I remember all the other ways he's carried us through all of this.  Individual instances gathered together into an exquisite tapestry of love and nurturing care.

I remember to keep praying and relying and trusting and thanking.  Stop groveling and complaining and fretting.  Not because I'm faithful or committed, but because he never forgets.  He never forgets his promises to his people.  And the very fact that I can belong in His People is astounding.  I was not born a Jew, but I still get to call him Father.  If only I knew the eternal word for astounding!

Stress Management

There are these couple of dudes I know.  They are both genius scientists--chemists, I think.  They work for companies with big names we all know, solving problems we can hardly fathom.  I also know they both like to bake.

This old house is throwing us some curve balls this week...and last week.....and the week before, come to think of it.  I guess it all started when our pipes froze a few weeks ago.  During the poking-around-in-hopes-of-solving-the-problem process, a valve got loosened and retightened.  The pipe poking party gave up and came upstairs.  Hours later, followed by much rejoicing, the pipes thawed and water flowed once again.  We hadn't been in the basement since.
Until....
Babydaddy noticed our water flow was a bit off Friday morning.  He went to the (coal and dirt floor) basement to investigate and found that valve had been spewing water since the Great Thaw of '13.  The basement was drenched and mold was rapidly growing. (It can start in only 10-12 hours of moisture!)  One of our worst fears as new homeowners had become a reality.  Thankfully, B.daddy knows what he's doing, and because of his incredible character, has very good relationships with vendors.  So with dehumidifiers and the last of a very generous Lowe's gift card, he started hacking away at the problem. (Eventually the company has to come in and do the official cleaning up, but B has done A LOT of the job on his own.)
Our floor is dirty.  I'm talking Wet Coal and Dirt dirty.
And while running the dehumidifiers with giant extension cords laying hapless through our walkways, we keep losing the lights in our dining room, kitchen, and entryway.
And the bulkhead finally broke.
But what do you know?  Is there light at the end of the tunnel?
Oh no.
Oh, dear, no.
On one of his countless, jolly jaunts downstairs B.daddy saw our boiler had started spewing water as well.  Meaning it was broken.  Heat, hot water.  Broken.
He's been fielding all the calls and visits from plumbers.  Should we convert to gas now--should we not?  How should we fix the boiler if we stick with oil?  How soon and for how little can you do that?  How long do we want to live in this house after all?

And now.  No matter how many breakers B.daddy flips the lights in the kitchen, dining room, and entryway will not come back on.
That means an electrician in addition to the plumber and clean-up company.

Just when I was starting to feel all settled and content and warm and fuzzy.

So I'm baking.  And sewing.
I don't know how much all of this will cost, or how exactly we'll cover it.  I know I should be thankful that God provides, pray for that, and then feel like an idiot for praying for provision when there are people freezing to death in the city.  If you can't tell, my mind is on overload.  I am not processing well At All.
There are a few things, however, that I can manage.  I can create a delicious chocolate cake from out of nowhere--beginning to completion with pleasant results.  I can take some cheap fabric and make our kitchen look a hundred times better.  I cannot fix what's going on in our basement or make it so that my husband doesn't have to figure it out.  When I find myself swarmed with problems I cannot solve, I start problems of my own--but only the ones I CAN solve!
Since the beginning of said trials I have baked cinnamon rolls, chocolate cake, chocolate chip muffins, and butterscotch walnut cookies.  I have sewn roman shades for the living room, a panel for over the kitchen sink, and white muslin roman shades for the kitchen.  I need these completions to distract from the otherwise fruitless ruckus of my brain.
And when all the dust settles and I realize I was freaking out over nothing, we'll have a whole bunch of pretty and yummy we wouldn't have had otherwise.

whole wheat, of course.  i made the chocolate chip muffins with all white flour.  when i offered one to li'l bit she said, "are they fully baked?"

now i can wash dishes and drink from the jug WITHOUT the back neighbors seeing me.