Sometimes, I am falling – I, like wool unwound and spinning helpless across the floor.
Wishing for change – that change be immediate, that only peace would stay. That pain of soul, spirit and body would ease. If only I can throw off the leaden blanket keeping me stooped; lift it off of my shoulders. I wish anxiety would not fill me. I, free-falling from the precipice of a cliff with jagged rocks at the bottom. Could it be instead – a meadow, tall sweet grasses, fragrant blooms; this a bed to lie on, not the nails of distress that pillow my thoughts?
Oh, would that the journey towards wholeness not be so snail-slow; the mountains I am climbing to reach the summit would not be so sheer and high.
I, like little Much Afraid in Hinds Feet on High Places, who has Sorrow and Suffering as her companions – would like very much to exchange these companions. I am weary from years of physical pain and of emotional turmoil. The griefs and losses score deep crevices into my heart.
I wonder if the habits of a lifetime may shift so that healthier choices result. And then I realize these habits are being moved. As I look back, I can see adjustments, different ways of doing things. There is progress after all! The quote I saw the other day “no matter how many mistakes you make or how slow the progress, you are still way ahead of everyone else who is not even trying.“ So I can have hope; eat the sweet juicy fruit of encouragement.
Still, this malaise comes from exhaustion, from health issues with no easy answers. From situations that have no ready solutions. There, only time, and waiting. It is undeniable; the body affects the mind. And, mind and body, these kissing cousins, play off of one another.
I search for remedies, read books galore, talk to people, reach out to the medical community. I learn about and am thankful for medication that can help bring balance to a chemical imbalance in the brain. Receive no shame, no matter what “well-meaning” people may say. And, I am full to the brim and overflowing with gratefulness for a skilled, wise and discerning therapist. This is something I would recommend to anyone suffering from any mental illness. It is impossible to overstate the help and perspective I have gained in therapy! Search for a good one and don’t stop until you find one you can trust and respect.
I remind myself, too, that this weakness, this can be an opportunity. That despite my inability, and in my complete weakness Jesus can shine through me. His strength infused into me. So one more day, one more moment, grace-breathed I go forward. This race I run has a Savior who walks with me, a Comforter who advocates for me, and a Father who stands at the finish line cheering for me. So, I “turn my eyes upon Jesus and look full in His wonderful face.“ There is no condemnation in His eyes, those beautiful eyes, only great love and much tenderness, and grace, grace abundant.
Though full of questions, fears, and trepidation, amid lament, and in the middle of all that concerns me; I stop. I remember His mercies promised, to each of us. And they are fresh every day.Every day.Onward I go, looking around every corner,
for His new mercies.