Tag: depression

You may feel some discomfort

On By Charis PsalloIn Poetry, Uncategorized5 Comments

Photo: ceramic dome

(Inspired by a Learning Channel video about a Canadian surgeon who taught brain surgery to doctors in a tiny Russian clinic. The patient was required to be conscious in order to participate in the procedure.)

 

You May Feel Some Discomfort

Perhaps I had my eyes closed when your assistants bashed

my horizontal chariot through the swinging doors.

I didn’t see that sign.

Just as well.

If I had known

the surgery you intended to perform

(removing the run-away tumour of mal-formed thought)

required me to be awake for the procedure

I may have searched for an alternate practitioner,

one who would anesthetize me

with framed platitudes hung beside

hand-penned personal testimonies

of painless probes

and joyful function (temporarily) restored.

I would have,

at least,

googled the back pages of ancient pdf-ed medical knowledge,

or youtubed reports of accidental new age discovery,

or followed the links to a parallel universe of  pharmacos deliverance.

I confess to some disrespectful misuse of your name

when the raucous drill began its breakthrough,

(can you really buy those at Walmart?)

but once my thoughts lay open before you

I merely concentrated on

raising my arm

and opening my hand.

Thanks for letting me rest

as you reassembled my humbled dome

(and for being careful to leave room for expansion).

There.

Done.

Invader gone.

Mind renewal.

Thank you, God.

You’re good.

Very good.

It just gets better

On By Charis PsalloIn Uncategorized8 Comments

new growth

 

Peggy Lee’s song from the 60’s, “Is that all there is?” came to mind this week when I saw many of my young friends post pictures of graduation and the prom on Facebook. A former grad admitted to me that the whole thing was a little disappointing. After looking forward to it her entire school career as a magical night of glamour and celebration (and possible romance) in the end it was the same old people standing around in expensive, uncomfortable clothes saying and doing the same dorky things they said and did last week –and the week before, and the year before.

Dare we admit that some of the moments we were told would be the highlights of our lives were not all that brilliant? I came away from my high school grad party thinking like Peggy, “Is that all there is?” (Mom worked so hard to put together the perfect evening, but I was not permitted to go to the prom dance and since my dress was a gift, I never got to choose it. The guy I had just broken up with turned up with his fiancée and the last minute substitute escort was called home by his mother because she needed help getting his drunk uncle out of the bath tub.) Even if everything had turned out as planned I think I would have been disappointed.

The problem: I have an imagination.

Sometimes I feel like asking people not to give rave reviews to a movie or book or performance –or even a cleaning product that sounds like heaven by way of a sparkling shower door. I almost wish people hadn’t told me how wonderful life experiences like a wedding or childbirth and breastfeeding or a vacation in Mexico or a standing ovation after a performance were because although there were wonderful moments in all of them, secretly my imagination took liberties went a step further than reality. As great as many experiences have been there was usually a bit of “Is that all there is?” when they were over.

Solomon said it first in the book of Ecclesiastes, the book that epitomizes is-that-all-there-is disappointment and the limits of human’s wisdom and logic. He wrote, “I have seen all the works that are done under the sun; and, behold, all is vanity and vexation of spirit.” and “Eat, drink, and be merry, for tomorrow we die.” (He ends the book of his experiences with this: “Let us hear the conclusion of the whole matter: Fear God, and keep his commandments: for this is the whole duty of man.”)

Peggy’s song repeats Solomon’s observation of vanity:

If that’s all there is my friend, then let’s keep dancing.

Let’s break out the booze and have a ball, if that’s all there is.

Peggy’s song also dared to address fear of the final disappointment:

I know what you must be saying to yourselves.

If that’s the way she feels about it why doesn’t she just end it all?

Oh, no. Not me. I’m in no hurry for that final disappointment.

For I know just as well as I’m standing here talking to you,

when that final moment comes and I’m breathing my last breath, I’ll be saying to myself,

Is that all there is?

Perhaps disappointment is our greatest fear. Perhaps this is what motivates so many sermons and pop theology books. They are less about hope and faith than the pragmatic guarding of our hearts against the possibility of disappointment.  Like King Saul before his first battle we take things into our own hands when it looks like God may not show up in time to make our party a success.

I think the best moments in my life have been surprises:

-coming around a corner on a logging road to see an entire hidden valley of golden tamarack aglow in low evening sun,

-my wee little grandson this week, bringing me a grocery store flyer and pointing to a photo of watermelon to show me what he wanted when he is too young to have the words (Yes, I gave him some.)

-my “barren” daughter announcing her pregnancy

-my precious son, held prisoner in a dark basement of depression, coming up the stairs into the light saying he wanted to be baptized

-my four-year old grandson telling me he had a dream of sitting on Jesus’  lap and being hugged and hugged and hugged

-my husband covering my desk with Lindt chocolates on our fortieth Valentines Day together

-hearing a voice say “Run!” when I was up in the woods praying, then discovering that when I dared to attempt it the asthma and arthritis that had crippled me for so long were gone

-my mother with a broad smile and look of recognition on her face toward someone we could not see as she stepped into eternity from her hospital bed

-and so many more.

I believe this is not all there is. I believe God gives us promises that will not be disappointments. I believe that my imagination will not spoil the surprises he has for me because I am not capable of going a step beyond the greater reality. My imagination is no match for his.

“Is that all there is?”

No! Not by a long shot!

Now to him who by his power within us is able to do far more than we ever dare to ask or imagine—to him be glory in the Church through Jesus Christ for ever and ever, amen! (Ephesians 3:21, 22)

Oh, dear children of mine (forgive the affection of an old man!), have you realised it? Here and now we are God’s children. We don’t know what we shall become in the future. We only know that, if reality were to break through, we should reflect his likeness, for we should see him as he really is! (1 John 1:3)

He restores my soul

On By Charis PsalloIn Art, Uncategorized20 Comments

Beside the creek in the cool of the evening

I have joy.

For many years I could not say that. The best I could do was say, “I’ll be happy when…

when this course is over,

when I have a driver’s license,

when I am married,

when this baby is born,

when tax season is over,

when the swelling goes down,

when I get my Dad settled in his new home,

when the bills are paid,

when the house is clean and organized,

when my kids are doing well,

when their bills are paid…”

There was always a reason to postpone enjoying the moment, something that still needed improvement, some potential disappointment that needed guarding against.

I used to think that when I managed to finish everything on the job list I could reward myself with feeling a little joy.

I rarely finished the to-do list -and never finished the worry list. That list I took to bed with me.

Jesus said his burden was light.

Mine wasn’t.

I lumbered from burn-out to burn-out and laboured under thick layers of guilt.

In a dream, the Lord showed me a heavy suitcase. It was full of things that needed prayer. He said sometimes I needed to set it down. It would wear me out if I carried it all the time. Sometimes I needed to leave it with him, walk away and enjoy the scenery.

In a way, that is why I took up photography and painting. They make me pay attention and become more aware of beauty. The evening  light does not wait until the paperwork is done and the hedge is clipped and all the hungry people in the world are fed and all the sick are healed.

Sometimes on this journey we need to leave the heavy stuff and the “whys” in his care and sit by the stream in the cool of the evening and allow our souls to be restored. Right here, mid-crisis, in the hidden grottos of the valley, with all of the threats and fears and opposition looking on like jealous, ravenous beasts, God prepares a place of rest and safety and refreshing for us.

I am learning (slowly) to set the suitcase down, step into the joyful freshness of God’s presence and allow him to restore my soul -in that infinitely tiny and infinitely spacious moment called “now.” That’s where the battle is won.

Thank you, Lord. You are good.

The Valley of Trouble

On By Charis PsalloIn Uncategorized1 Comment

Photo: Valley on the Jasper Parkway

After spending the week with my two wee grandchildren I am even more convinced one of the greatest challenges we face as humans is the tyranny of “the wants.”

The little guy is not quite two years old, and for a not quite two-year old is adorable, affectionate and pretty considerate. But he is discovering he has a will.

I am learning to phrase my questions in a way to make “No!”  the desired answer.

“You don’t want to stay awake all afternoon, do you?”

“No!”

“Do you want to leave your toys out of the toy box like this?”

“No!”

Even so there is the problem with the abundance of choice. His latest favourite phrases this week are, “Another one,” and “Something else.” Two bites into a snack it occurs to him that there are other fruits in the fridge and other crackers in the cupboard.

“Something else” also tends to be the something else his sister is playing with. I tried to explain to her that the easiest way to get a toy back is to offer him something even more attractive than what he is trying to seize.

That worked really well until she noticed that he now had something better than she did and the grabbing began again. When I tried to play mediator she said, “But I WANT it.” That’s her trump card. But I WANT it!

She looks at me with that desperate victim of craving look I have seen too many times. WANT is here. It must be satisfied. Don’t you understand, Nana?

Oh sweetie. Do I understand? The truth is, although I have learned not to say it out loud, at least not in a whiney tone that could make wallpaper want to curl itself back up the wall, inside I still want to stomp my plump little feet and whine, “but I WANT it!” It is so easy to stand knee-deep in a room full of abundant choices and cry, “But I WANT the one he has.”

What  I want:

I want you two to play quietly and safely together so I can chase rabbit trails on my laptop.

I want a new cordless mouse. This one is annoying.

I want to eat a bowl of almonds and chocolate chips and drink a real cream full fat caffeine-laced latte after 2 in the afternoon.

I want to play MY music –loudly– if only to get the “Yes my name is Iggle-Piggle” song out of my head.

I want to be loving and persevering and patient and merciful and compassionate and good without any challenges in my life.

I want faith without ever having to wrestle with doubt.

I want joy in the morning without weeping in the night.

I WANT it!

But my little granddaughter said something very mature for her three years yesterday. She said she would rather take her nap a little early so she would have more time with her Daddy later in the day when he was finished his work –even though she really, really wanted to stay up longer and had that option. She was willing to ignore the WANT monster for the greater reward of relationship with her father. I love this kid.

I’ve heard it said we need much more preparation to survive times of abundance than we do to survive hard times. Hard times teach us that God is our provider. Only those who understand where true wealth lies can handle abundance and not be distracted by it.

 

Red Button, Yellow Button

On By Charis PsalloIn Neither animal nor vegetable19 Comments

What do you see?

My grandma’s kitchen table overflowed with happy chaos –as did her closets, drawers, shelves, baskets and any other available surface. She was a quilter, crafter, seamstress and creator of quasi-useful doo-dads extraordinaire. She should have had a blog.

Some might have thought she was a hoarder, but she actually made use of her stashes of potential and gave most of the finished projects away. A quilt stretched out on a frame usually took up most of the living room and when I came home from school I automatically picked up a threaded needle and joined the two or three older friends (all called Mrs. So-and-so, even to each other) while Grandma fixed me a snack.

One of the other jobs she gave me was sorting the bottles of buttons she snipped off thrift store clothes too worn to wear, but still good for quilt patches. I learned I could look at the buttons spread out before me and concentrate on seeing a certain colour. If I thought, “Red!” the red buttons popped out and I put them into egg carton sections. If I thought “Yellow!” the red buttons would fade and the yellow ones would stand out.

I can still do it. Is it just me?

As I was thinking about thinking (any thing to avoid housework) I remembered this button experience. We tend to see what we are thinking about.

I am blessed with a beautiful granddaughter who thinks differently than most kids. It makes for an awkward social life but gives her plenty of time to read, observe strange human behaviour and contemplate complexities. At the age of about five or six years old she was obsessed with learning Bible stories. She had read her children’s Bible through several times and knew the history of many obscure characters I didn’t recognize. Her favourites were the prophets –especially the female prophets.

“They could hear God talking to them! Isn’t that amazing, Grammie? My favourite is Miriam, because she was so smart and she got to save her little brother Moses and be a dancer and singer/songwriter and a prophetess too!”

One day while we were making cookies she asked me, “Do you think it would have been easier to be a disciple of John the Baptist or a disciple of Jesus?”

I hadn’t really thought about it before so I asked her, “What do you think, honey?” – because obviously she had been thinking about it.

She said, “Well, I think John the Baptist because he worked in the same area most of the time, and people came out to see him, so if you were his disciple you could go home for supper and have your own room and everything, but if you were Jesus’ disciple you would have to walk and walk and follow him around because he never even had his own house, so you wouldn’t either and they never had cars or buses or anything for transportation so your feet would get really sore, except that they did have boats on the lake of Galilee so sometimes they could travel by boat…”

It doesn’t take much to get her on a roll.

“So there was this time when the disciples were in a boat at night? They saw Jesus walking on the water –well, it turned out to be Jesus, but they thought at first he was a ghost because you don’t really expect to see somebody walking on the water in the dark at night and maybe one of them saw a ghost before or something – and anyway Peter said, “Jesus, if that’s you I will walk on water too,” so he got out of the boat and he did! He did walk on water, Grammie! Isn’t that amazing? (She used that expression a lot) and then he was walking, walking, walking and oh no! He started to go down and he looked at his feet and they were under the water and he looked at the waves and they got bigger and his knees were under the water and he saw more water coming and he started going down and down and down and do you know what I think that means, Grammie?”

“What, honey?” (Why slow her down now?)

“I think that means that when we look at our sin all we see is our sin and we get too afraid to look at Jesus. The waves are like our bad things and the problem is when we look at our bad things we just do another bad thing because that’s all we know how to do. We need to stop thinking about being bad! We need to look at Jesus walking on the water because he’s the only one who knows how to do it.”

Wow.

Preach it, little sister.

She smashed the peanut butter cookie dough with her fist and chattered on about foods and baking raisin cakes in the Bible, but my mind stayed with her observations on focus.

We see what we focus on. When we pray, “Oh Lord, make me ever mindful of what a worm I am and how horrible my sins are,” we are like Peter looking at the waves and his inability to conquer them –and our only solution is to try to use the same tactics that have failed us so many times before.

It’s like thinking about red buttons and seeing red buttons.

Some people say, “Have faith.” But faith in what?  Happy endings? Our ability to overcome all by ourselves? That this time will be different? We can have all the faith in the world that this time we will walk on water, but when we start to sink it’s panic time -again. We think, “Don’t think about eating, or spending, or coveting… maybe if I try harder, keep the junk food out of the house, cut up the credit cards, stay off Pinterest, put a blocker on those TV channels, avoid the Facebook gossipy rants about famous people, bite my tongue, pour the booze down the toilet, memorize scripture verses….ooh, chocolate…that always makes me feel better…oh no…I’m horrible…I can’t even resist a measly brownie…I’m a sinner and I will always be a sinner…I’m so disgusting…glug…glug….glu…

Our faith cannot be in our ability to try harder. It needs to be in Jesus, who knows how to do this water-walking stuff. He doesn’t walk for us, but he does show us how to walk with him . Our eyes must be on Him, not us! It’s a matter of seeing what you think about.

Jesus? If that’s you we will walk on water too!

Let us strip off everything that hinders us, as well as the sin which dogs our feet, and let us run the race that we have to run with patience, our eyes fixed on Jesus the source and the goal of our faith. Hebrews 12:1-2

Now to him who is able to keep you from falling and to present you before his glory without fault and with unspeakable joy, to the only God, our saviour, be glory and majesty, power and authority, through Jesus Christ our Lord, before time was, now, and in all ages to come, amen. Jude 1:24

The Dream Lives

On By Charis PsalloIn Art, Uncategorized2 Comments

Painted prayer: The Dream Lives

(Click on photo for larger version)

This painting was for a woman with a broken heart who, at the time, faced going through life without a partner.

She chose to respond by staying up all night and thanking God for every single thing she could think of.

God responded by healing her wounds and sending her a wonderful husband (in a most unlikely way) who has blessed her beyond anything she ever dreamed.

God also healed her of infertility and has given them beautiful children.

God is good.

The Lord is near to the brokenhearted
    and saves the crushed in spirit. Psalm 34:18

He Restores My Soul

On By Charis PsalloIn Uncategorized2 Comments

For my friend,

I believe it was the writings of Henri Nouwen that first made me think about the blessings Jesus talked about (also known as The Beatitudes) as the stages of healing from old wounds and the process of forgiveness. This how I have experienced this part of the journey.

Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.

We come to a point where we realize we do not have what we need to fix our lives by ourselves. We definitely do not have it all together. This is good! It feels awful, but it is a vital step in accessing the kingdom of God. We enter humbly and not with a sense of entitlement. It feels like loss. It feels like that moment when you think you’ve reached the bottom of the stairs, but your foot continues to fall. Old temporary foundations fail and we feel like there is no place left to stand.

That’s what it’s supposed to feel like. Call out to God, “Help!”

Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted.

We admit our faults and are willing to examine the lies we have accepted. By acknowledging that we have created false idols and ineffectual coping mechanisms, by feeling remorse for the hurt we have caused ourselves and others, and by grieving for the resulting losses we receive comfort.

Tell God exactly how you feel, even if you are angry with him. He knows anyway.

Blessed are the meek, for they will inherit the earth.

I like this definition of meek: teachable. Meekness means, “I know I don’t have the answers but I am capable of learning, Lord. Teach me.” We sit at the feet of Jesus Christ and listen. When we listen, really listen, we gain an understanding of how God can use anything to work together for our good.

Open your heart to receive your inheritance.

Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they will be filled.

At this stage we develop a greater hunger for God and long to be in good relationship with him. (note: this is not the first stage. The desire for God increases as we give up our own methods of coping, get honest, and listen. Don’t worry. It will come.) Then, when we let go of the stupid stuff we are hanging onto, which we thought would ease our pain and give us a sense of purpose and significance, like the helper on the Hoarders TV show he asks our permission to come in and haul the junk away. In its place he leaves more satisfying things, like love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, gentleness, meekness, and self-control. He equips us with gifts (tools) to fulfil our destiny.

Throw out the rotten junk food and empty cans. Feast on the righteousness Jesus provides..

Blessed are the merciful, for they will be shown mercy.

At this stage we can look up and see the struggles of others. We can see we are not alone and can dare to be empathetic, compassionate and reach out to help others without being pulled under again ourselves -because we are giving out of the abundance the Holy Spirit’s provision for us and within us, and not out of duty or a need to “be a something.” We are aware of his love. We can finally feel it. We can start to be ourselves and give more freely of ourselves.

Let his love flow through you.

Blessed are the pure in heart, for they will see God.

Innocence can’t be restored, but purity can. Without purity, spiritually sensitive people will be overly consumed by the presence of evil, but with restored purity we can see, like Elisha’s servant, that the forces for God are much greater. We have no reason to live in fear. Impurity, in its many forms, leads to bitterness and complaining which result in anxiety and fear.  Purity leads to assurance and confident courage as we can now have our eyes opened to the nature and ways of God.

Be willing to see beyond expectations of disappointment.

Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called children of God.

We start to relate differently. We are not as impatient or prone to make judgments on people. We desire restored relationships and renewed bridges.

Give the peace you have been given.

Blessed are those who are persecuted because of righteousness, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.

Forgiveness is not the same as reconciliation. A fully restored relationship requires honesty on both sides. The Bible tells us “As much as is possible be at peace with all men.” We humbly, but confidently do what we can, but the results are not always what we would like. We’re blessed, at peace and learning to comprehend more who we are in Christ. Less and less do we need to buy into into the world’s coping mechanisms, or the excuses of those whose theology is strongly influenced by disappointment. Possessing the peace that passes understanding sometimes means relinquishing the right to understand.

Take the risk of countering attack with goodness.

Blessed are you when people insult you, persecute you and falsely say all kinds of evil against you because of me. Rejoice and be glad, because great is your reward in heaven, for in the same way they persecuted the prophets who were before you.

It’s surprising how some people react when you tell them God healed you or worked miraculously to change your heart. Some will say, “You’ve changed. Change back.” Some are happy for you, but others say, “Prove it.” Some will be offended. Jealousy is not satisfied until a reputation has been destroyed.

Who knew? Well God did, so he warns you. And he says you’re in good company, so rejoice. Spending time getting to know God, learning to hear him speak in many different ways, and having a restored relationship with him is ever so much more fun than depression, anxiety and living a lie. God is good. Very, very good.

We have the privilege of repeating this process many times in life. I say privilege because each step comes with a new blessing. Sometimes it feels like we are going in circles, but we are actually going in spirals, going deeper each time. Sometimes we feel like we spend an inordinate amount of time on one step, but he is faithful and doesn’t give up on us. He understands our pain and sends the Holy Spirit to come along side on the journey.

May the Lord bless you and keep you, my friend. May he make his face shine upon you, be gracious to you and give you peace.

Save

Mourning into dancing

On By Charis PsalloIn Flowers2 Comments

Woot! Woot!

*Now get outta my way, let me praise my Jesus! Get outta my way! If I don’t praise him the rocks are gonna cry out, “Glory and Honour! Glory and Honour! I ain’t got time to die.*

–American Spiritual

Letting Go

On By Charis PsalloIn Black and white, Mountains, Poetry, Sky9 Comments

And Forgive Us our Debts

Nothing left to give.

Look into my empty sack,

my empty jar.

See my cold black torch.

How am I to live?

I cannot pay back what I owe

‘til I get payback for my lack.

And they took it.

They squandered it.

They spent my joy on riots.

They spent my innocence on games.

They threw my peace on the bonfire

and danced around it.

Let go

I’ve squeezed my eyes until they bled,

I’ve held my breath

until my heart pounded on death’s door —

still I cannot disappear

into the disheveled dirt bed

And here you are

–and you want more.

How dare you?

How dare you, God?

How dare you?

How dare you shove

your saber hand into my chest

and divide spent spirit from sullied soul

to reach the hissing python.

Let go

I can’t let go!

It’s only anger —

it’s only hate

that coiled around my crooked spine

enables me to stand up straight

and curse them!

Let go

Aren’t you gentle Jesus

meek and mild?

Go take your love to some purer child.

And stop that!

You’re hurting me!

Let go

They poached my song!

They caught my rhyme!

They raped my soul!

They took my time!

They grabbed my mind

and jammed it on a fearsome pike –as a warning.

They took my gates forever.

I’ve damned the light

and sealed the sash

with dark green plastic meant for trash.

What good are thickened walls of stone

when the door’s been burned to ash.

Let go

The bill’s right here;

I have kept track.

My hands will tighten ‘round their necks.

My hands are strong —

they’ll not be slack

‘til I get everything I lack.

Give it back!

Give it back!

Give it back!

Let go

You let go!

I’m offended by this “loving hand”

that feels more like a gunshot wound.

Let go

I can’t let go!

I won’t let go!

I don’t want to let go!

They owe me!

Let go

Help me.

Let go

You know if I let go it will kill me.

I know

It’s hard.

I can’t fill your hands until you empty them.

Who is going to help me?

I am.

(This poem was written about one of the toughest steps in healing from chronic depression  –forgiveness. To me forgiveness is about letting go of legitimate debts owed me and allowing God to supply my needs.)