Meandering About my Mind...

There's something comforting about processing thoughts in a blog. I like it. I've always loved journaling, and I guess this form of cyber journaling is fun for me. Truth be told, I'm a jumble of swirling thoughts at this moment. Blogging is a nice outlet.

As I'm learning along the way, stress is a trigger for depression. With all the stress of late in my life, I'm struggling against the blackness again. Frustrating, but not scary since I knew to expect this possibility, and know just what to do to cope with it. Extra rest, a good book, and patience with myself. The old feelings are familiar. Intense desire to be left alone, not looking forward to things I normally enjoy, loss of appetite or increase (as is usually my symptom), waking up with a desire to stay asleep. The encouraging part is that though I wish this heaviness would go away, I know I still have hope. I know it will lessen and I'll feel like breathing again soon. Oooo sorry for the downer, but hey, I'm just keepin it real here!

Do you ever wonder what if? I guess in my darker mood, I'm experiencing that question. What if I'd gone to college instead of marrying so young? What if I'd read more and socialized less? What if I could have been a lawyer or a politician? What if I could have written three or four books by now? Really, I know this is sick. I am thoroughly and wonderfully blessed. I've experienced marriage, an insurance career, motherhood, moves, ministry, and now I'm working on a seminary degree and the career of my dreams. I've got it all. So now, if nothing else, you have proof that even someone who has the best of the best, someone like me, has the occasional longing or strange sense of dissatisfaction. Evidence, in my opinion, of humanity. Evidence of my own desperate need of Christ's peaceful presence to calm my crazy thoughts. Evidence that the "wretch like me" applies to me above all and that I am hopeless without the Amazing Grace offered to me by Jesus.

Good thing that I don't have to be without it.

I miss my mom. If she were here, we'd go off for dinner, just us two. Or we'd take a ride around to nowhere and talk it all out. We'd laugh and she'd understand.

Today I read Jan Karon's Light from Heaven. Again. I love that book. Pure relaxation and peace in the pages. Tears flow at the same old places I've read over and over. Here's one of my favorite parts, a poem she uses in the book:

Let the stable still astonish
Straw---dirt floor, dull eyes.
Dusty flanks of donkeys, oxen;
Crumbling, crooked walls;
No bed to carry that pain,
And then, the Child,
Rag-wrapped, laid to cry
In a trough.
Who would have chosen this?

Who would have said: "Yes.
Let the God of all the heavens
And earth
Be born here, in this place."
Who but the same God
Who stands in the darker, fouler rooms
Of our hearts
And says, "Yes.
Let the God of heaven and Earth
Be born here--
In this place."

My own heart is indeed much fouler and darker than the pitiful stable where Jesus made His entrance into the world. Even tonight it is so. Yet, He remains in spite of my darkness. A blessed Light, a Ray of Hope, a Glorious Peace.

God help me and my wandering thoughts. Hope it hasn't been too terribly confusing to meander along the winding paths with me. Tomorrow I'll show up at church with my game face on. You won't let on you know how nutso I really am, will ya? Aw, really I don't care if you do. Truth is, all the other game faces have some nutso underneath them, too. 'Bout time somebody admitted it. It's part of our common bond. Jesus and craziness! The Jesus part we don't mind, but the craziness we like to hide. Funny, isn't it? We're all looking for the Answer while pretending we have no question. Good grief.

If I had a rocking chair at home, I'd be in it right now. I love rocking chairs for the comforting sensation they bring. For now, there's a comforting sensation in the fresh sheets on my bed and the blue flowers printed on them. The same color blue as the hydrangeas at my Granny's house when I was a kid. Same color blue as the bedroom where I slept at her house. Same color blue as the bedspread she gave me from that room that I covered up with at home while I listened to my mom and dad getting ready for dad to leave on his truck in the middle of the night. I always used to find such comfort in them being awake when I was asleep. Sweet memories! I think I'll take those to sleep with me tonight and savor them for a while.

So here you have it. Raw, unedited ramblings from the mind of a slightly strange, moderately crazy, well meaning, very real woman. Signing off for now...

Becky