I think the hardest days with depression are the slow fade days. Don’t misunderstand. I’m not saying the days where my husband is down and out all day are easy. Those are hard, but at least I know what to expect. It’s all me all day. I can pace myself. The days where he seems to have some energy and that energy seems to slowly vaporize are exhausting and discouraging.
Take today for instance. I knew he wasn’t great, but he seemed ok when he got home from work. Somewhat talkative. He was energetic enough to work a little on a patio project. He took some time to be with the boys, though with low attention. He affirmed he was paying attention without getting involved in what they were doing a whole lot. I could tell this wasn’t his best day, but it didn’t appear to be his worst.
As the afternoon gave into supper time it was clear things were changing some. His energy level was starting to wane. His interactions with us diminished. He came in for supper and sat at the table waiting for . . . I’m actually not sure. I explained we were having leftovers and he could come and pick. He acknowledged my comment and sat, staring at the floor vacantly.
I asked if he would be eating with us or just sitting with us. He said he’d eat with us. Eventually he got his food and warmed it up. Then he sat staring into space while his food cooled. Any interaction with us was initiated by the boys or I. His responses were simple and minimal. It was becoming clear he wasn’t going to be present with us much. He didn’t address the kids behavior unless it was extreme. (Cue shreaking toddler.)
He laid on the recliner while I cleaned up the kitchen. His eyes were closed. The boys played happily in the same room. They’ve learned Dad isn’t very responsive when he’s like this. I initiated bed time routines, every little stage and transition. He put the youngest and himself to sleep.
The heaviness if the depression is palatable. It weighs me down and threatens to suffocate my contentment. It tries to steal the optimism that keeps me afloat. Tonight I feel like a frog in a frying pan. Someone turned the heat up steadily but slowly. When I finally realize what’s going on it feels like it’s too late.
I want to come out fighting like a tiger. I want my husband back. I want our life back. I know we’re on the journey. We’re doing the right things to get us to a better place. But when will it be better? When will our relationship maintenance be a shared responsibility? When will the dark moments end? When will my husband look at me, listen to me, touch me again like I’m a real person. When will he be able to fully engage with us, his wife and his sons? When will we rise above the oppression of the depression? I want to know. I want us to be free.
One of my favorite things about growing up in a climate with four seasons is the winter. Where I grew up the snow started falling in November and December. It came and it stayed. The snowfall after snowfall piled up so that, at times, my legs were buried past my knees as I tried to walk through the drifts.
After an hour or more plowing through snow banks, building snow forts and being pulled on our sleds with the buy snowmobile my siblings and I would come in with rosy cheeks and wet fingers. My mom would often have fresh made stove top hot chocolate ready to warm our fingers and stomachs. In my eagerness to drink it, I once burnt my tongue on a cup so bad I couldn’t taste anything for several days. Those were the golden days of my childhood.
I have had a hard time finding a good balance for a warm, just in from the cold, drink for my toddlers. I didn’t want something too sugary, so I tried diluted cocoa. They took one sip before deciding it wasn’t worth their attention. That was when another treasure from my childhood fell into my hands.
I was a Little House in the Prairie girl. I cannot tell you how many times I read and reread the whole series of Laura Ingalls Wilder books. I read fictional prequels and sequels, letters of Laura’s and whatever else I could get my hands on. I even visited her childhood home in Pepin, WI one year. One book from this season of my childhood was a Little House on the Prairie inspired cookbook. As a child I’d used it to introduce my classmates to homemade butter and hardtack.
One recipe in particular was brought to mind as I held the book again as an adult, cambric tea. It is basically warm milk with weak tea and sugar. It was specifically for small children. My oldest loves the smell of his dad’s hot cinnamon spiced tea. So much so, that his loveys (an old style cloth diaper) must be either dipped in it or brushed with the tea leaves to pick up the fragrance. So this seemed like a good fit for their warm, just in from the cold, drink.
However, I’m not one to give tea, especially with caffeine, to my small children. They don’t need any help being energetic. So inspired by cambric tea and my son’s love for cinnamon I created milk tea.
Milk tea, as we call it, is a cup of milk warmed with a splash of vanilla, 2 tsp sugar and a cinnamon stick. Since my kids won’t wait to drink it we also pour it over a couple of ice cubes to get it down to a drinkable temperature.
While this is what we typically use for a cold weather drink it cold be cooled and used for any warm day. It’s a nice treat whenever.
Have you ever seen someone or something and were able to see into some deeper part of them because of a moment? Something they said or did or some gesture to a friend or stranger allows you to discover another part of this person. Maybe you love this person, hate this person or have no affection one way or the other. I got to have one of those moments tonight. It was beautiful and heart wrenching. It was reassuring and devastating. It was a moment I got my husband back.
Today was a rough day in our household. We’ve dealt with sickness in our household off and on since the beginning of February. My youngest is teething, at least I hope so. There had better be a good reason we have to sleep on the recliner together while he tosses and turns. I am feeling the effects of weeks, rather, a year and a half of broken up sleep and my body is worn down. In short, today my tank was running close to empty.
I requested my husband come straight home from work rather than stop by the grocery for the bananas and garlic. He graciously obliged. He came home and got out a toddler bike he needed to put together. He was cheerful, energetic and interactive with me and our boys. This is the man I married. However, after three years of moderate to severe depression, this man has not been a regular presence in our family. I delight in the moments we have like this. I was thoroughly enjoying having him back today and looking forward to a little break this evening.
However, during my break tonight my husband disappeared behind the fog of isolation, sleep and inaction. I needed a rest tonight from our wonderful, but very active toddlers. After resting I realized it was an hour past the kids bedtime and I had heard no signs of bedtime routine. By the time I got up, my energetic, cheerful husband had gone. He was taking care of the kids, keeping them safe, and exerting as much energy as he could muster holding one and putting him to sleep, in his clothes, without a night diaper while the other played.
I was so disappointed. Disappointed that my husband could not find the strength and energy to partner with me tonight when I could have really used it. We got to experience a little normal and it had been cruelly torn away from us. That disappointment quickly dissolved into anger. I lashed out. I had attitude. All the while my husband was doing the best he could under the circumstances.
I understand these feelings are very normal. They are expected in a situation like this. But frankly, I don’t like them. I don’t want to have to deal with them at all. It is a roller coaster, crying over the counter top where my husband and boys can’t see after having this moment of joy, grieving the man I feel I lost again tonight. The future can feel so heavy. Hope can feel like it is only a pin prick far in the distance that maybe you’re really just imagining.
This is the life we have right now. Some might say I shouldn’t have to deal with this at all. I’ll tell you, friend, the alternative is much worse. I chose to stand by my wedding vows, by the grace and power of the Holy Spirit.
Tonight’s glimpse of normal was because we are pursuing treatment. Historically, my husbands depression is there or almost there. We don’t really get a lot of moments like we did tonight. But we have gotten more the last week. The treatment is helping. We will continue to pursue it. We will get more moments like tonight that will turn in to a string of moments, that will turn into days and weeks of normal. That is the future I’m looking for. I pray it will come soon!
First, I’d like to preface this post with a new style. These “In a jiffy” posts are meant to be thought provoking but short. So read at your own risk. Often these will be a subject from an intense time of learning or revelation I’m having. Please understand I’m using revelation in the dimmest sense of the word. It is something that is revelatory to my heart and mind at this moment. It is not a new revelation beyond or outside of scripture, but rather a deepening of my understanding of what scripture already says. These thoughts are typically in process and involve a lot of questions, and not necessarily a lot of answers. Hope you enjoy.
Today, I am planting. Why? It is certainly not because we are past the last date for frost in my area. We are about a month from it. So why, again? It because today I need some hope. I’m try to sow some hope and beauty in my life. The concept of sowing and reaping is a well established concept in scripture.
In a future, regular post I’ll share more about hope, but for now seeds! Why do we plant in the spring time? Why do some of us take extra time to prepare and plan a flower and/or vegetable garden? Certainly it’s not for today. It’s for the future. My journey right now is heavily seed planting, in my children, in my marriage, in my social group. It is tiring.
So instead of planting in people, I planted flower and vegetable seeds. The vegetable seeds are relatively new seeds. They will be protected in a small shelf greenhouse. However, the flower seeds are old. Since I planted them directly outside a frost could harm the seeds. They may or may not come up, but I planted them anyway. And, hopefully, those that survive the ups and downs of spring temperatures, will bless our summer with some beautiful flowers.
I think this is like the Word of God, which Jesus likened to a seed planted in us in the parable of the sower. While presently the Word of God is tumbling around my heart and searching for a place to grow, I remember a promise from Isaiah. The Word of God never returns to God empty.
“As the rain and the snow come down from heaven, and do not return to it without watering the earth and making it bud and flourish, so that it yields seed for the sower and bread for the eater, so is my word that goes out from my mouth: It will not return to me empty, but will accomplish what I desire and achieve the purpose for which I sent it.”
Isaiah 55:10 – 11
I’m hoping and trusting in those seeds. The seeds that have been sown in my heart and mind a couple decades ago and over the last many years of study. Today’s journey feels overwhelming and even suffocating at times. But, hopefully, in this post you and I can feel some camaraderie in the struggles and in the day to day trials. We can be encouraged together.
Time for a more lighthearted post. This one is about my cooking skills. My cooking skills have been mediocre in the past. But as a stay at home mom I have yearned to broaden and improve my cooking expertise and expand my recipe book. Nothing I’ve cooked in the past has been bad, just kind of boring.
The last year or so I have made it my mission to find some new recipes and try out some new foods. That was helped a lot when I started menu planning. More on that another time. We also decided to try to cut back on meat protein this year. Don’t get me wrong. We love the half a beef, half a hog, goat, chicken, etc in our freezer. We are fortunate to live in an area where good meat is accessible to us at good prices. However, my husband struggles with some heath issues. The more research I’ve done the more it seems to suggest incorporating more plant based protein meals may be helpful to him. In light of that, I’m trying to add one or two vegetarian meals into our week.
In my search for new recipes and different protein sources I have been strongly influenced by Indian and Bangladeshi recipes. Three and a half years ago we were given the opportunity to house a graduate student from Bangladesh. The smells of her cooking were delightful and so were the flavors. She used a lot of rice, lentils, chickpeas and delicious sauces. One of my favorites was pakoras. It is on my list for a future cooking adventure. They are fried chickpea flour patties with green chili, cilantro and onion to season. I already make a Japanese curry beef that reminds me of some of the flavors she used to cook with.
My inspiration for the following recipes was a package of red lentils I’d had in my lazy susan for several years. I figured there was no time like the present to see if I could use them. It was then I discovered dal, or lentil soup. Where has this wonderful soup been all my life! The red lentils, when cooked for 10 min, break down and make a saucy soup. Then you add any different variety of spices and maybe coconut milk.
Which seasonings depends on the type of dal you are making. From what I’ve read dal varies a great deal from region to region in India and Bangladesh. To date I have made two kinds of dal. Both of them were phenomenal. My only problems was that I needed to make a bigger batch. One of these recipes is wonderful as it is. The other was good, but was even better over rice.
It is important to note that you must use red lentils. They break down much differently in heat than the green lentils do. The red lentils also loose their color when cooked and turn green, so the end dish looks like you made it with green lentils. Lentils are a great source of protein and fiber.
The first recipe I used was a coconut apple ginger dal. It was amazing. The recipe was posted in bonappetite.com. I look for recipes that are simple and have rave reviews. We loved this one as is with some gluten free dairy free dinners rolls.
The second I made just recently. I found it at The Wanderlust Kitchen blog. This one is more closely seasoned to a dal from the Bengali region of India. We loved this one over some yummy basmati brown rice. I omitted the tomatoes because of time and chili pepper because I value my taste buds. Sorry to all you spicy people. My husband is one of them, but I let him season his own. This recipe does require cumin seeds. I didn’t regret buying some to make this.
Even my one and two year old likes the coconut apple ginger dal. How can I argue with toddler wants like that? These recipes made it to my regular menu planning. I can’t wait to find more!
This the first piece I wrote in earnest. I was a college student sorting out my salvation. I received Christ when I was five. Between that and being a college student was a lot of life. I was not one to dabble in risky behavior. I was a cautious child and not a risk taker. However, my tendency was to need to be right. I liked the last word in an argument and was not a gracious friend when I came to making sure my friends had the “right” information. I was prideful and willful about my decisions, attitudes and words.
This tendency made some of my friendships difficult and full of conflict. It made my relationships at home difficult and brought strife where there didn’t always need to be. It was my personal lesson in grace. I was about 18 when I had a revelation of grace that I hold with me to this day. It was a season fraught with turmoil and uncertainty. I moved twice in one summer and found my job didn’t have the hours I was expecting. This lead to a lot of time alone in the quiet.
The combination of my developing adult psyche and my time alone lead to a decision I have never regretted. I decided to challenge God. It’s an interesting step, isn’t it. Not necessarily advice you would hear during a sermon at church. But God is a self revealing God. He does not hide or shield Himself from us. Instead, He embraces us, loves us, and gets in our muck with us. He can handle our big emotions, fears, problems, questions, tantrums, etc. He is not threatened by our smallness, anger or confusion. He is God and able to meet us where we are at and transform us into beyond what we can hope or dream for.
“Now to Him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to His power that is at work within us, to Him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, for ever and ever! Amen.”
Ephesians 3:20 – 21
So that’s what I decided to challenge God on. I told Him that if He is who He says He is then I was asking Him to show up, to teach me, show me how to hear His voice in my life and follow His ways. I told Him I would show up and open up Scripture, study it and wait for His revelation (only that which followed the context and reasonable interpretation of Scripture; more on that another time). What I didn’t know was that a huge transformation was about to take place.
I can only say this: He showed up! Scripture came alive in my heart and mind. It started to take root in a way only memorization couldn’t touch. In this fresh revelation of Christ and my salvation all my faults and flaws, pride, fear, worry, control, etc, became magnified. This is the place I believe all followers of Christ need to come at some point in their walk to truly begin to work out their salvation. It is the place where your deepest darkest sin is brought into the light of Christ. That sin needs to stare you in the face and you back at it in honest acknowledgement. Then you need to sacrifice it at the foot of the cross.
I want you to let that sink in, even as I am letting that wash over me again. My sin is to be a spiritual sacrifice to Jesus. He desires it, longs to take it, has already taken it. But here’s the best part, it’s not just a sin offering to Christ. It is an “exchange program.” It’s your crap, sin, unrighteousness, etc. for His righteousness, peace, joy, truth, love, etc. When you offer your sin to Christ, He gives you transformation. You don’t have to obey that call to sin any longer. You can now obey a new master, a loving master who has your best at heart. One who sends you a helper to forge the transformation from being bound to sin to bound to righteousness.
My sin is to be a spiritual sacrifice to Jesus. He desires it, longs to take it, has already taken it.
That my friends is grace. It is so bountiful in the kingdom of heaven. You can never run it dry or use it up. As a wise pastor once said, “God already factored in your stupid.” You can’t do enough to run out of grace with God.
The song I’ve included here was from that beginning season of transformation, of grace. It was a season of learning to see myself not as a sinner, but as a saved saint being transformed into the likeness of Christ day after day. The original lyrics, which are not sung here, include ideas about what I thought I saw God as, His disappointment in me and sadness at who I had become. I thought my efforts to transform myself were a disappointment to God as they were to myself. But as I got to the second verse I wrote that God sees His child, a precious and loved daughter of God. I had learned there was no disappointment then and would not be ever. I was in the process of transformation. I was only a child learning to be like my King.
I must say after almost 20 years of practicing this, there is still so much transformation I need to undergo. I still need to remember that I am not a disappointment or just shy of failing at *fill in the blank.* I have learned God does not quit, give up, or become overwhelmed at this task of transforming me. He is a patient and gentle teacher, not willing to give me over to my own ends. In this truth I can rest.
Let me encourage you today, whether your story is full of sordid details, poor choices upon poor choices and rock bottoms or full of less “impressive” sin, you have a Heavenly Father who is ready and willing to receive you, transform you and go with you always. Even when your nerves are frayed and instead of a nice prayer, you stomp your feet and as God why with a bad attitude. Even when you are weighted down with a the cares of the world and feel like you might suffocate under their weight. Even when you lack the faith to know what to trust. He is there, holding you, leading you. Trust there is light. Trust there is a path. Trust in His grace.
Today I showed my oldest the half phase moon as we walked in from outside at dusk. We’d had a wonderful unseasonably warm day and as soon as nap time was over we headed outside and enjoyed until supper time. As we were heading in my oldest and I were admiring the sunset colors in the sky.
Out of the corner of my eye I noticed the moon. It was very bright for dusk. Not sure if my not quite 3 year old would be able to appreciate it, I took a chance and said, “Look, buddy!” pointing out the half moon. My efforts were not in vain. He said, “Wow!” (over and over) and proceeded to stare at the tiny half moon. Then he tried, in his best two year old language that is ever evolving, to communicate that he wanted me to bring the moon down to him. Over and over he asked. And over and over I explained that I wasn’t able to go up there and get it.
I’m sure there is some deep lesson here. Something about how we see things that God is doing as so small and want to hold it in our hand. We want to control it, but really its very big and beyond our understanding. (Job 42:3, Psalm 131: 1) Or maybe the lesson is about how my son believed I could bring him the moon and I should have the same child like faith with God. (Mark 10:15)
I ended up carrying him in so he could watch it while we went in. Maybe it was his devoted study of this new thing in his world that should be the focus. Perhaps the lesson to carry with us is that we should be so focused on our Lord that all other things seem to fade away. Cue the hymn “Turn Your Eyes Upon Jesus”.
Or maybe it was just to be in the moment of wonder, to be present, to be in awe of the being a part of my son’s journey of discovery. Maybe my oldest’s moment with the moon was just that, a moment.
This last week has been challenging. I was sick; one of my kids was sick. It took a while to feel like I could be present again with my kids like I wanted. So I’m open to the lesson God has if there is one. But right now I’m most grateful for the gift of the moment.
Welcome to my new blog, a place where I hope to explore the complexity of the human condition, the depths of God’s grace, music, and dabble in a little cooking and baking. It is my hope that you come along with me on this journey. I hope through what is shared will inspire you to look at life in a new way. It is also a space for me to share some music I have written and thoughts I have about random day to day things. That is the ones that don’t get interrupted and scrambled by my lovely and rambunctious toddlers.
I love being a mom. I was a teacher for 10 years before that and loved that too. Both involve investing young lives to prepare them for the world out there. Maybe those to worlds will collide one day, but for today this is a season to invest in my little ones, my marriage, my heart.
This blogging journey, frankly, was not on my radar. I am not the kind of person to put my business, thoughts, etc. out into the public eye to be scrutinized. Nor am I someone who feels the need to be affirmed by a crowd. Which is why, perhaps to your surprise or annoyance, I’m choosing to remain anonymous. However, I feel an instinctive need to share in other peoples lives.
Since a part of this blog is to share music here’s a little background. When I first started to write music I was mostly curious if I could. The very first song I wrote was based on Psalm 133 when I was a teenager. I used the line “like oil running down my beard/is the unity of brothers to my soul.” It was a short simple melody. But it brought my dad into the room with confusion and laughter. He “reminded” me that I don’t have a beard with a chuckle. I let him know that it was simply restating scripture and I didn’t need to have a beard. I just needed to trust the writer.
How good and pleasant it is when God’s people live together in unity!
It is like precious oil poured on the head, running down on the beard, running down on Aaron’s beard, down on the collar of his robe.
It is as if the dew of Hermon were falling on Mount Zion. For there the LORD bestows his blessing, even life forevermore.
Psalm 133
My next investment in writing music didn’t come until my junior year of college. I thought my enjoyment of music and playing piano would be a thing of the past when I moved on to adult life. But I learned a valuable lesson those first to years of college; I love music and it would be a part of my life for a long time. I transferred colleges after my sophomore year and moved in with my aunt and uncle. It was there my second piece was written.
The second piece was a more complex piece. It had lyrics I written, but the song became more about the spirit in the melody rather than the lyrics. It was a piece that had a foundational melody but could be ad-libbed whenever the mood arose. And it did often. I was learning to find my way around the piano without written music, to hear the intervals and chords.
I have no training in writing music. I simply sit down and experiment. It has become a conversation that God and I have. Some of the pieces come together quickly and reflected something that God had done or was working on in my heart. Some pieces began with a phrase and a short melody and had to be hashed over and over until they came together. Some pieces don’t go anywhere, but are an experiment in the moment that isn’t written, just felt.
It has become a therapeutic act to write or play music. If I find I am stressed or overwhelmed, sitting at the piano and either playing someone else’s written music, my own pieces or writing a new piece calms my heart and allows me to be still before God. It makes my heart soft and willing to be transformed.
I have strict rules about what I write. It must align with Scripture. A good lyric is only as good as the truth it speaks of. I have no interest in misleading anyone who would listen to any of the pieces. I am a strong advocate for testing all truth against the Word of God. Science and culture will always have lots to say, but God will always be proven right. He doesn’t need me to defend Him, only to stand by His truth.
Anyway, enough introductions for now. Join me on my journey to sort through life. It certainly is a grand adventure.
Lady Worship Fingers 