Ray of Hope

Spring has felt like such a long time coming.  This winter has been a hard one for me emotionally.  It is only recently that our car was fixed so, for the most part, we have been immobile, squirreled away in our snug nest, awaiting the sun.  Hibernation sounds like a cosy idyll to begin with but when the incandescent glow of Christmas has faded, and there is not even the excitement of snow to break the monotonous bleakness, it begins to feel more like incarceration.  So we held on.  Held on to the rituals that guide us through the year: Epiphany, Candlemas, Valentines.... Held on to the hope of light and warmth and community.  Held on to Him who is present within every difficult, stir-crazy, ill-tempered moment and yet promises that this is not all, promises to make streams in the desert and a path through the wilderness.  And just when the dark and cold seemed most oppressive, just when I needed it most, ...the sun shone.  I am sure that there will be many more inclement days around the corner but for today I am thankful for a chance to wake up from my winter sleep, stretch out my arms and welcome the sun.  Similarly, even though I know that my long fought battle with depression is likely not over, I grasp the good days and thank God for his mercy.  

Enough

I keep the Jesus Storybook Bible on my pile of devotionals by my favourite armchair.  That way, if a small person comes along and wants to join in, I always have something to read them.  It's a brilliant book.  It looks at the whole Bible through the lens of the promise and fulfilment of the Messiah in the person of Jesus Christ.  That sounds a bit complicated and theological but actually, in the very simplest terms, it outlines God's plan for the salvation of humanity from day one.

Anyway, the other day I was reading Daily Light in my favourite armchair when Elijah came and took up residence on my lap.  I dutifully put down my devotional and picked up the Jesus Storybook Bible.  I flipped it open to a random page, which just happened to be the story of the loaves and the fishes.  It's a familiar story,... so familiar, in fact, that sometimes it's easy to gloss over it and fail to see the amazing truths it contains.  I mean, yes, it's one of the miracles of Jesus which help to validate his claims to be divine,  but it's also more than that.  It's about a young boy who chose to give what he had when, in all honesty, what he had was a mere drop in the ocean.  If it was me I'd have been tempted to ask what good my little bit could do and keep it to myself.  Isn't that what we do, oftentimes, when faced with situations of great need or injustice??  We think, well my contribution would be so small that it would be completely ineffective,... and so we make no contribution at all.

It reminds me of the story of a little boy walking along a shoreline where thousands of starfish had been beached.  As he walked he picked up single starfish and threw them back into the water.  He was challenged by a passing adult who asked him what he hoped to achieve in the face of such an enormous environmental disaster; he couldn't possibly make a difference.  The boy, calmly, picked up a starfish, threw it back in and said,... well I made a difference to that one.

The boy with the loaves and fishes surrendered himself to be used,... but more than that.  He had faith that in doing so he could make a difference.  God is the God of increase.  He can take our measly offerings and make them into something astounding and abundant for his purpose and glory.  It doesn't matter how much we have; if we give it with a faith filled heart, he will multiply it and use if for his kingdom.  

As a mother who has suffered from depression and constantly questioned her ability to raise Godly children, this story gives me great hope. If I surrender myself to this task he has given me;  if I mother to the best of my God -given ability; if I have faith to believe that my offering is acceptable to God....  It sounds like a spiritual gymnastics class but in reality I think it comes down to one thing: trust.  We entrust ourselves to God and we believe that he has a good plan for us.  It's not about us; it's about him.  And so I breathe a huge sigh of relief and leave you with the wonderful closing words of the tale of the loaves and fishes from The Jesus Storybook Bible.

But it was the most natural thing in all the world.  It's what God had been doing from the beginning, of course.  Taking the nothing and making it everything.  Taking the emptiness and filling it up.  Taking the darkness and making it light.

2 Corinthians 4:6-7 (New Living Translation)
⁶ For God, who said, “Let there be light in the darkness,” has made this light shine in our hearts so we could know the glory of God that is seen in the face of Jesus Christ.
⁷ We now have this light shining in our hearts, but we ourselves are like fragile clay jars containing this great treasure. This makes it clear that our great power is from God, not from ourselves.

Coming Out of the Darkness

The last year has been hard.  Really hard.  After my month in hospital when Josiah was born it took a while to get my health back to full strength. However, the trauma of being institutionalised (albeit with excellent care) and, worse still, being separated from Phil and the children, was not quite so easy to put behind me.  It's hard to explain post natal depression to anyone.  You have a lovely baby, a lovely home, lovely family,... so much to be grateful for.   And yet, despite all this potential for great happiness there is, in the depths of your soul, a pervasive blackness which envelops every spark of joy that ought to be yours for the taking.  And that's really all there is to it.  No reason, no rhyme,... just hopelessness and despair.  So there I was.   Hiding my soul from the health visitor and striving to hold everything together for the sake of my family and this precious baby I had birthed.  And one year later here I am.  I don't know how I made it; how, when other people succumb so tragically to the siren of suicide, I managed to ignore her tantalising taunts and walk forward into the light.  I can only thank God and my husband for their grace and favour; for not abandoning me in my time of need.  So do I have any advice for others going through a similar situation?  Take one day at a time and if need be one moment at a time, accept help, take time for yourself, know your limits, be kind to yourself, and a hundred other things that escape me right now.  But know this: there is light and hope on the other side.  If it takes anti-depressants and a hospital stay to get there, so be it.  Whatever it takes, as Jim Morrison said,... break on through to the other side.

May God's light shine upon you
Jo x