Unbeautiful Beauty

Depression is...

Dark.

Lonely.

Hopeless.

UNBEAUTIFUL...




For my entire existence, my life has been tainted by depression.  The ugly beast steals light and joy.  Security and worth.  Depression is a liar and a thief.


My alcoholic father was ravaged by depression.  The first eighteen years of my life were broken stumbles trying to survive it's effects.


My beloved, Ironman, suffered from a highly intellectual, introverted depression since he was a child.  Until recent years, we never understood that it was depression who was the thief.  We suffered from it's loathsome grip -off and on- for the first 17 years of our marriage.


After 37 years of life, I had no tolerance for the thieving beast any longer.  I wanted away from it's darkness.  It had dominated for long enough, and I was going to escape from it's claws once and for all.


Then it happened...

  
*I* fell down UNBEAUTIFUL's merciless slope into the deepest pit  I could have ever imagined.  The girl who *KNEW* she would *NEVER* be depressed was in the steely claws of depression's grip.  I was stuck... unable to move, breathe, live.  I felt like God had left me.  I felt hopeless.  I felt utterly and completely ALONE.


ALONE...

ALONE...

ALONE...


Then something BEAUTIFUL happened... 


My beloved who UNDERSTOOD the helplessness of depression tenderly and intentionally cared for me.  He spoke softly and gently when I would listen, and he prayed when I wouldn't.  He brought soup to me in my dungeon.  He washed my clothes.  He coaxed me out of bed to shower.  He wept for me and he wept with me.  He KNEW the prison I was in.  He KNEW my incapability to rescue myself from it.  He knew UNBEAUTIFUL.

HE KNEW...

HE KNEW...

HE KNEW...

Last week, I picked up a book by Alise Wright (and several other authors) called Not Alone.  It's a compilation of personal stories of those who have walked this road.  These are stories of those who KNOW.  They have been in the pit and are sharing their stories so you will know that you are NOT ALONE.  Catalysts of chemical imbalance, insecurity, alcoholism, divorce, adultery, anorexia, job loss, failure, faith crisis... have left these writers crippled and in the darkness of  UNBEAUTIFUL's grip.  In the same way my beloved understood where I was locked away, these writers also understood.  Deeper healing has found me as I have read the precious stories of these warrior writers.  Something of true BEAUTY has been unveiled in UNBEAUTIFUL.   

The book Not Alone: Stories of Living With Depression  edited by Alise Wright is available through Amazon.com

Promised Land?

The last six weeks have been stressful, heart wrenching, emotional...


TEARFUL... TEARFUL... TEARFUL...  


We are bone tired weary.  The truth is, in my naivety, I never imagined this transition to zap us of all our energies for so long.  I think it's probably the culmination of the last few...errr... let's say twenty years that has finally caught up with us.  On June 1, 2011 we entered our twentieth year of small church ministry.


TWENTY YEARS.


We've been tossed about, hurt, used and used up, taken advantage of, taken for granted, and we have given until there has been nothing left to give.


 NOTHING.  


WORSE THAN EMPTY.  


LITERALLY.


We have PURPOSELY given ourselves away...  

WILLINGLY, because we were asked...   

AGREEABLY, for the sake of the message.



THE MESSAGE...  THE MESSAGE...  THE MESSAGE...


The message that, both, Ironman and I are so completely passionate about... perhaps NOW MORE THAN EVER.  The message that no matter what you have done or ever will do, no matter what has been done to you, no matter your social status high or low, what you look like, or what you feel... that GOD IS COMPLETELY NUTS ABOUT YOU.  He loves you in your present shambles.  He loves you in your I-have-it-all-together-ness.  He loves you with all of your secrets, shame, pride, foolishness, arrogance, flaws, disappointments, failures, skills and the lack thereof.   HE. JUST.  LOVES.  YOU.


HE LOVES YOU...  HE LOVES YOU... HE LOVES YOU...



During the past twenty years, we have had many successes, failures, heartaches, and joys.  We have known the deepest of friendships as well as the deepest of sorrows.  We have tasted life, and have been ravaged by death.   It was heart wrenching, yet relief when God began His relentless pursuit to call us to move...  to move away from the only life our four children have ever known...  to move away from being independent and move in with family...  to move away from meaningful relationships, familiar people, a familiar town, climbing trees, corn fields, and ministry...


MINISTRY.


SIGH.


The internal struggle that I have had from believing we were called away from ministry has taken me by surprise.  I know that my value is not wrapped up in being a pastor's wife.  My value as a person, and my value before God has nothing to do with it, but I still felt a bit "stripped."  I even struggled with the name of my blog.  Would it be okay to remain "The Upside Down Pastor's Wife?"  A wise friend of mine heard my heart. He told me that I am a "veteran" and I will always be a "Pastor's Wife."  It is part of my story, and it will always be a part of who I am, so the name remains.  :)   I do believe that God is calling us to a time of REST, but when you are in the middle of the unknown about what is on the other side, it is humanly difficult to do.  Our faith and trust have been challenged to the core in this transition.  We know and believe fully that God has called us.  We scooped up our family, loaded our entire lives into a moving truck and a trailer, stepped into our "Jordan" and moved 1200 miles across country.  After five weeks, there are a FEW glimpses of the Promised Land.  To be surrounded by family and having the love and support of my parents and grandma has been priceless.  Our children have lived more life here in the past five weeks than they have lived in perhaps the last decade.  They have gone fishing, hiking, biking, explored creeks, swamps, and forests.  They've been collecting all of the hugs, kisses, and snuggles that Grammy and Papa Don have been storing away for them for months. Our kids have been breathing in the fresh mountain air and basking in the wonderful Colorado sunshine.


THE SUNSHINE HAS BEEN HEALING FOR ALL OF US...


Even with the strength we have received from the glimpses of the Promised Land, this past week I struggled with the fact that Ironman still has no job.  I half-heartedly asked God where our Promised Land was.  He whispered to my heart that sometimes the Promised Land looks differently than we imagine.  He spoke softly to me that this is indeed the promised land for my children.  As their mother, that should be "enough" for me... and it is.


WE HAVE SEEN "ENOUGH" OF THE PROMISED LAND TO KNOW WE STEPPED IN THE RIGHT DIRECTION.



JUST ENOUGH...


We continue to wait and trust that what God has for Ironman and myself will soon be within sight.  Until then, we (try to) rest... we hope... we believe... that the message we so deeply believe in will again have an outlet to have a voice.  Until then, all God really wants from us is to SEEK HIM...TRUST HIM... 


TRUST HIM "ENOUGH" ON THE BANKS OF THE RAGING RIVER TO STEP, AND KEEP TRUSTING HIM "ENOUGH" TO CONTINUE WALKING THROUGH THE RIVERBED TO THE SHORE ON THE OTHER SIDE.

ONE WAY OR ANOTHER, THE PROMISED LAND IS ON THE OTHER SIDE.

"The Jordan is waiting for me to cross through.  My heart is aging, I can tell.  So Lord, I'm begging for one last favor from you.  Here's my heart.  Take it where you will.  This life has shown me how we're mended and we're torn.  How it's okay to be lonely as long as you're free.  Sometimes my ground was stony, and sometimes covered with thorns.    And only You could make it what it had to be."  (Rich Mullins)

Masterpiece

Music beauty is created by pause.

Pause is the necessity for life's beauty song.  

 Song without rest... life without pause... is cacophony of misdirected notes.

Notes surrendered to intentional silence is masterpiece.

We Will Miss the Harvest

As I look outside our window and see the spread of farmland that blankets the area, I am fully aware that autumn is close.  The corn is stretched strong and tall, the ears are formed, and the tops of the stalks are tasseled.  Harvest is just around the corner.  We have enjoyed the seasons in this little Michigan home for more than a decade, but the winds of change are blowing.  This summer will be our last season here.


WE WILL MISS THE HARVEST...


Having grown up a Hoosier farm girl on my grandpa's farm, this makes me sad.  I relish the fact that my own children have tasted a little bit of what it's like to grow up in the middle of a corn field.  The stars are brighter, the crickets chirp louder, and the tree frogs sing an unforgettable melody. To pass the time, you climb trees, swing on the porch swing, and watch the deer play in your backyard.  But the winds of change are blowing...


WE WILL MISS THE HARVEST...


To a farmer, the harvest is the most important time of  year. He is rewarded for his labor of planting and tending to his fields and crops.  The harvest is a TANGIBLE reward for his diligent efforts.   But because the Michigan wind is blowing...


WE WILL MISS THE HARVEST...     


 God asks some to ready the ground and plant the seed, some to water the seed, and some to gather the harvest.  A rare few are called to all the tasks, but we are not among the few.  This is God's work here, and our specific job is complete in this little corner of His Kingdom.  It is difficult to leave before the harvest.  We cannot gather the fruits of our labor and experience a tangible reward.  It takes a lot of faith to leave the "field" and trust that someone else will come to tenderly and carefully gather the harvest for which we lovingly labored.  We are sorting through our tangle of emotions.  We are sad the wind is blowing...


WE WILL MISS THE HARVEST...


The ancient wind of change is blowing our family all the way from Michigan to Colorado.  We have no plan.  We only know that God is calling.  We follow.  We radically trust.  We know there are things that our eyes cannot yet see.  Our hearts are stirred, and we must obey the call.  Perhaps a readied field awaits our arrival.  Perhaps we will reap in our journey ahead.  Whatever God has planned, we will do our "BROKEN BEST" to follow His lead. 

WE WILL MISS THE HARVEST...

BUT SOMEWHERE A NEW "FIELD" AWAITS US AND WE TRUST HIS LEADING FOR THE JOB WE ARE CALLED TO DO...

LET THE WIND BLOW...

"We are only God’s servants through whom you believed the Good News.  Each of us did the work the Lord gave us.  I planted the seed in your hearts, and Apollos watered it, but it was God who made it grow."  1 Corinthians 3:5-6 

Treasure Tree

I am so excited to share a link to my *VERY FIRST~EVER* guest blog!   Today, I'm writing at Alise...Write!  I met Alise on Twitter a little less than a year ago. I have a deep respect for her and her writing, and I don't know if I've met anyone more genuine in the blogging community.  She is not afraid to wrestle with extremely difficult issues, and she always stretches my thinking.  Alise is a blessing, and I am so thankful our paths have crossed.    :)

Here's a bit of my piece about brokenness, cherry trees, dead branches, and God's love... Thanks for reading!  :)

Between our sidewalk and driveway, stands one of my favorite things, a weeping cherry tree.  Each new spring she blesses us with an enchanting array of pink and white blossoms.  When the wind whisks through her branches, the loosely attached buds create a seemingly endless snow of petals.  Late spring, she offers another gift.  FRUIT.  Her branches fill with bright red cherries that are picked, pitted, and fashioned into Grandma's sour cherry pie.  The summertime gift she offers is a hideaway for my children.  They love to climb into her strong, twisted trunk and escape behind her waterfall of branches.  Her secret cove is the perfect place to get lost in a book on a warm summer day.  These are all splendid gifts to be sure, but the most valuable thing I've ever received from Treasure Tree is not in her beauty, her fruit, or her hideout, but in the lesson of her DEAD BRANCHES.  To continue reading, click ~~>  HERE.