May and Me

A few years ago, I read a book titled "The Secret Life of Bees" (if you haven't read it.....READ IT). I won't bore you by rewriting the Spark notes but there was a character in the book named "May". May had a twin sister, April, when she was younger. April was very depressed and committed suicide at a young age. And May was left to live that pain every day. She was extremely sensitive to any kind of hurt. She would read a newspaper article about something tragic or hear a sad story and she would retreat to her "wailing wall" to mourn as deeply as the families directly effected by the tragedy. She felt very real pain. Very very deeply. And it was her curse. Her burden. Her daily battle.

I remember sobbing my way through parts of this book. The storyline itself is tragic but I wasn't sobbing about the main character.....I was sobbing because I felt like May was writing my story. I didn't have a twin sister that committed suicide. I don't have a personally built "wailing wall" out back that I retreat to when my heart is heavy with hurt (though I do have a bathroom that serves quite handy for this matter). But when I let myself hurt, it hurts deep. And it is my curse. My burden. My daily battle. 

As I've gotten older, I have developed self coping mechanisms and have learned to increase the inhibitors and decrease the triggers. I've learned to breathe deep- A LOT (this may also sound like sighing. Sometimes it is. I'm Southern. Can't help it.). I go to the gym. Do I want to be skinny? Ummmm...YEP! But more than anything, I want a natural release of serotonin. Do I really, really, lick my lips enjoy several glasses of wine on occasion......Fo' sho!!!! BUT.....even one glass makes me weepy and let's just be honest, NOBODY wants to open the Hoover dam in exchange for 1 glass of wine. So I most often, opt out. I don't watch movies or tv shows that will stick with me anymore. I can't put anything into my mind that doesn't filter to my heart. So, no "Chain Saw Massacre", "300", "Hatfields and McCoys" even a few scenes in the Bible series of people getting beaten and throats slashed......I can't function for days after watching something like that.  (FYI.....people that think they CAN watch something and it mean NOTHING because it's "just a show"......you're all lying to yourselves.) I rarely watch the news. We can't deny that we live in an awful, sick, horrible world. If the stories aren't about horrible sins committed against children or the elderly or husbands and wives, then the stories are about the war torn countries throughout the world that are suffering at the hands of their rulers (there is 1 in particular that I feel certain is the anti-Christ). Childhood cancer and orphans and babies being killed by the millions in clinics. People hating people. In the name of hate. And it's too much for me. It's too much for someone that fights every day for joy.

Depression. I was 14 years old the first time a doctor said that word to me. I was humiliated and ashamed and wanted to hide it from the world. I made a lot of mistakes growing up with depression. I didn't do a lot of the things that I do now as means of helping myself. Am I saying that the precautions I take now have eliminated my depression? Nope. I'm saying that depression is very very real and that it's a choice I make every single day.......... To get up. To put my feet on the floor. To participate in life. To recognize when I need an emotion check. To not allow my feelings to be the rulers of my universe. To not always say I'm ok, if I'm not really okay. To talk to someone. To turn on praise and worship music. To open my Bible. To open my eyes. To breathe it in. To ask God to relieve my burden. To hide in the bathroom and cry it out. To hold my kids and let them see that I'm weak sometimes too. To look around and see that God is answering my prayers for relief, but I have to accept the help before it can actually be helpful.

So now in these last few months, my heart is so heavy. No matter how much I hide from it, I'm reading stories and seeing pictures of Christians and CHILDREN being persecuted/executed because they love God. Hundreds of girls kidnapped from their school and sold into "marriage". Entire families being executed in their homes. Wives losing their husbands, Husbands losing their wives. Children dying from cancer. Orphanages being bombed. Vehicles full of children trying to flee the bombing being shot at. Mass human graves being found. Civilian planes being shot down. How is this possible? And it's becoming unbearable. The weight. The knowledge. The inability to hide. The feeling in my stomach that tells me "you are not immune". And we aren't. We aren't immune to tragedy. Every night when I kiss my kids goodnight I kiss, and then peak, and then peak real quick again. Most nights I touch them to make sure their chests are still moving up and down. Because we are not immune. Every time Jake gets behind the wheel. Every time I leave the house with a van full of kids. Every time we go to a movie or for a routine doctors visit. Not fear. Not waiting. But knowledge. Knowledge that this life is just a vapor. Knowledge of the speed at which this life could shift from reading about tragedy, to living tragedy.

And today I read about Robin Williams committing suicide. And it reminds me all over again that this thing that so many of us fight every day is a demon. It is a relentless demon. It shows no mercy. It is both a figurative and literal darkness. I am reminded that sometimes, even people that are a light to so many, fail to see the light themselves. I used to be one of those people. Smiling on the outside. Dying on the inside. Without hope. Just like May.

Here is the difference between me and May. May would have read about Robin Williams today, she would have taken the newspaper article down to her wailing wall and stapled it there. She would have cried over him for days. Hurting. Weeping. She would have taken the photos of the children beheaded by ISIS down to the wall, and she would have walked into the river, never to walk out again, unable to bear the weight of the pain those parents must feel. The difference between me and May is hope. Hope of what is to come. Hope, as an anchor.

Revelation 21 New International Version (NIV)

A New Heaven and a New Earth

21 Then I saw “a new heaven and a new earth,”^[a] for the first heaven and the first earth had passed away, and there was no longer any sea. ² I saw the Holy City, the new Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God, prepared as a bride beautifully dressed for her husband. ³ And I heard a loud voice from the throne saying, “Look! God’s dwelling place is now among the people, and he will dwell with them. They will be his people, and God himself will be with them and be their God. ⁴ ‘He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death’^[b] or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away.”

⁵ He who was seated on the throne said, “I am making everything new!” Then he said, “Write this down, for these words are trustworthy and true.”
⁶ He said to me: “It is done. I am the Alpha and the Omega, the Beginning and the End. To the thirsty I will give water without cost from the spring of the water of life. ⁷ Those who are victorious will inherit all this, and I will be their God and they will be my children. ⁸ But the cowardly, the unbelieving, the vile, the murderers, the sexually immoral, those who practice magic arts, the idolaters and all liars—they will be consigned to the fiery lake of burning sulfur. This is the second death.”


And I have this hope, because I am redeemed. (2 Corinthians 5:17-18) Thank God, redeemed. I am victorious. Chosen. Adopted. (Ephesians 1:4-6).

My heart breaks daily for so many people. For their hurt. For their loneliness. But I can't fix it. Only the One can. And He hears the prayers of the brokenhearted. He makes a way, as a light in the darkness.

Praying for Christians being persecuted throughout the world tonight. And for so many that don't know what hope means.