No words, just erupted scream–
an earthquaked soul
in the crumbled devastation of a child “deceased”.
And with equal force the Spirit pushed back
against caving walls of motherhood.
Opening resurrection doors
to the Father’s will
that no temporary grave consumes. Building
fortified love and hope where there
are no words, just a heart that welcomes orphans in.
Sleep sacrifices itself,
nervously walking the halls of your
mind, jingling uneasy keys of security. Sensing
a breach, depression silently
intrudes, slithering around
restless souls, squeezing sincere
serenity from the sheets
of sanity. Until you surrender
to the venom of its lullaby.
P.S. I know insomnia well. Some of my earliest memories are severe nightmares and lying awake all night. I share this struggle with you because the desperation for sleep can lead to impulsiveness, and choices that a mind refreshed by sleep would not make. Even still my hope is in the Lord.
I don’t know why he has allowed this thorn in my flesh to remain. Maybe it is to encourage you in a moment of hopelessness! Even while I suffer I will turn this page, and remember that God makes each day new. You too are longing mind, body and soul for rest and may be tempted to, or, already are attempting to self medicate to attain sleep. Do not fight this battle alone. Turn the page on this night, with me! Lean hard into Christ, who was so tired he fell asleep on a boat in the middle of a storm. Like him, trust God to get you through this storm. My prayers are with you. Here are some scriptures to meditate on as we lay our weary heads on our pillows:
Isaiah 26:3 You will keep in perfect peace those whose minds are
steadfast, because they trust in you. …
Mark 4:39… waves, “Silence! Be still!” The wind sank, and a perfect calm set in. … He awoke, and rebuked the wind, and said to the sea, “Peace! Be still …
I am Juliet, romancing
depression like a star-crossed
lover, and drinking a poisoned vial of knowledge
to freeze the tic-toc of suffering. Graves and rosy
cheeked epitaphs serendade my hopes and dreams
with youthful ignorance. We elope to escape the tyranny of
commitment. Brow, not yet soiled by sweat, does not
have the strength to withstand suicide’s slander. So I lie, willingly,
in wait for my Romeo to rescue. And leave the priests to ask,
“Death, what are your intentions?”
Love and Be Loved! Love holds out gifts to the darkest soul and has a way of transforming hearts of stone!
Ephesians 3:…16 I pray that out of the riches of His glory, He may strengthen you with power through His Spirit in your inner being, 17 so that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith. And I pray that you, being rooted and grounded in love, 18 may have power, together with all the saints, to comprehend the length and width and height and depth of His love,…
Grieving Christmas is a list of juxtapositions. We are celebrating the birth of our savior, but we have lost a child. We are connecting with family members, but there is always one missing. We are opening gifts, but feel guilty for moving on without Jonathan.
God shaped the tangled vines of grief into beauty, by coming into our brokenness through Jesus, and he means for us to do the same. We display His identity, through joy, in the harshest of times. I’m not suggesting a forced, faked happiness, but a love that bubbles up in your pain, not in spite of it.
Christ didn’t come when everything was hunky dory in the world. He came in our desperate hour, when our losses outweighed our gains, and when the boot heel was on our throats.Israel was crying out for a savior, and as God in flesh took his first cry of humanity, our grief was changed to worship. Hope was born to the wise and the lowly, to shepherds and kings, to women and children, and to the poor, sick and needy. He was born in grief and raised us to new life in love.
That love enables me to shape grief into a new story. Not of what is lost, but what is gained. I fix my eyes ahead because Jonathan lived. His life is still changing mine. What I see as I grieve with hope:
Open the gift of grief and allow beauty to be formed from the ashes of those things we cherished most on this earth.Loosen your grip on what isn’t and open your hands to the gift of what is and will be. What hope do you see this Christmas?
I love hiking the trails out our local nature parks. I don’t think, I don’t worry, and I don’t plot and plan. I am a child, with a camera and my God becomes bigger than my depression, insomnia and grief. Time stands still as I breath more deeply and gain new perspective.
Comment about some of your favorite parks or trails. How does nature expand your faith and shrink your depression?
2 Corinthians 1:8We do not want you to be unaware, brothers, about the hardships we encountered in the province of Asia. We were under a burden far beyond our ability to endure, so that we despaired even of life.
Today my family witnessed the aftermath of a suicide off a highway overpass. My heart breaks for the young man and all who loved him!
Lord, you witness all of our brokenness and sorrow! You are not distant from our pain. Put a hedge of protection, around the children, taken away from him moments before he jumped, and the witnesses of his last moments. Soften the memories for the first responders so that they can rest deeply in your arms tonight. Father, I cry out to you, end the curse of depression and suicide!
I know you are in control. I know that your timing is perfect! But, move quickly to turn our sorrow to singing! God, you do not always spare us from our brokenness, and I struggle with why you linger. My mind cannot fathom, why you spared me from suicide, but not my son, or the young man today. I trust your sovereignty, though I do not understand it! As it took many years for Joseph to understand the wide berth of his dreams, I do not see all that you are doing with my circumstances. May I be aware of those struggling around me.
Teach me to rest content in your arms, though my circumstances crash around me. Amen
I’m a worm
trapped in a cocoon of
depression.
Alone.
No! Don’t try to
open me up.
I’ll die!
Let
me emerge, through painful
transformation,
a butterfly.
Short lived and beautiful.
Let Me Emerge a Butterfly!
I am an impossibility–
Chained to a prison of depression stats,
and yet, singing hymns of freedom.
Rattling the gates of hell to open
your life to the baptism of
possibility.
If you or a loved one are in immediate danger, call the National Suicide Lifeline at 988 or go to the website at https://988lifeline.org/