Being honest

March 21, 2004

It seems to be more difficult to feel normal on Sundays. My favorite time of the worship service is the music and the singing. Now I only listen and do not sing. I cannot sing songs like “It Is Well With My Soul” because it is not well with my soul. My inner being is without song.

It is difficult to concentrate on the Pastor’s sermon. I listen for a hidden message from God, to grab hold to help me over this hump. But too often my mind wanders and does not stay focused on the sermon.

I do appreciate the loving kindness and compassion people show towards me at church. The hugs are warm expressions of care and concern. People ask how I am. I used to always say fine. Now I just say ok. Ok, meaning not as good as I used to be. Ok, meaning I really don’t feel like myself at all.

I was honest with a few people and said I felt terrible and admitted being depressed. I tried taking it back as soon as the words were out of my mouth. I quickly tried to reverse my admission by saying, “It's ok. I will be fine.” Why do I do that? Why is it so hard to just lay it out there and let it be? Why am I coaching my husband to not tell people how I really feel?

Some of my responses to people startle me. A lady was talking to me about cancer and then shifted the conversation to several of her own ailments. As I listened distractedly, her recital of ailments became annoying. I told her that I would rather have aches and pains than cancer. Why did I say that? Where was my patience?

I feel very undeserving of the prayers that are being said on my behalf because I don’t feel like I am doing my part by trying to rise above this. When will I choose to become like the robin? I wonder if I am wallowing in self-pity. Actually, I realize that I have reached the point of anger about this situation. I am mad at this derailment at a point in my life journey when I was going in the direction I wanted to go.

Lesson from the robin

March 19, 2004
I saw a robust little brown robin taking a bath in a puddle of water that had collected in a pothole in the middle of the road. His wings were vigorously splashing the water and he was boldly enjoying himself. He was taking advantage of the blessing of the puddled pothole regardless of its precarious spot in traffic’s way. When my car traveled too close for his comfort, he flew out of harms way. I suspect he flew back to finish his bath after I passed by.

I am pondering the lesson of the robin. I believe the picture the robin left in my mind is a reminder for me to practice my faith and trust in a bold way. I can choose to enjoy the blessing this trial will bring by allowing myself to bathe in its complexities with the knowledge that when it becomes too much, I can retreat to the safety of the Lord, family and friends. Or I can choose to submerge myself in the rut of this pothole and allow everything to run over me. A choice I need to make day-to-day or even moment-to-moment.