I’m with you.

I’ve written before about my husband Eric and his trudging through life with depression.  According to dictionary.com, "trudging" is a blend of "tread" and "drudge", which I guess could then be defined as the hard work of walking.  Because Eric has been living with depression on a daily basis for so much of his life, I don't know that he is even sure what life without depression would be like or feel like.

Circumstances keep challenging his emotional well-being.  Actually, life in general challenges his emotional well-being.  He’s working really hard to try and make ends meet financially for our family, but as the saying goes, “Just when you think you can make ends meet, somebody moves the ends.” 

Last week the truck was in the shop for another major repair, so he was home for the week.  I’m not going to lie ... I love having my husband at home, but I kind of like it when he’s gone too.  The house stays so much neater.

 

One of the best things we did when he was home was sit down and talk to each other about where he was at emotionally, how we were doing with it and how we could help each other in the midst of it.  That’s a positive exercise to do any time, but it was really helpful for us to talk like this at the beginning of his time at home.  Nothing was left to stew and marinade in sour juices for days and days, the product of misunderstood expectations.

The key thing that Eric told me was, “I need to know you’re with me.”  It was a good reminder for me.  I often just assume that he knows it, after all I’m pretty sure our wedding vows covered this kind of thing ... “in sickness and in health, whether rich or poor ...”   I know I'm committed to him, no matter what comes our way, but speaking words of life and love and faithfulness out loud have power.

So lately I’ve made a conscious effort to speak the words out loud to Eric.  “I’m with you.”  We’re in this thing called life together, and even when it’s tough slugging, I’m not going to bail.  “I’m with you.”

Another has made that vow to us as well.  And in those times when I do struggle with being there for Eric, I know that the Almighty is there for me.

Isaiah 41:10:

Don’t be afraid, for I am with you.

    Don’t be discouraged, for I am your God.

I will strengthen you and help you.

    I will hold you up with my victorious right hand.

Matthew 28:20:

... And be sure of this: I am with you always, even to the end of the age.

Buddy System

It’s nearing the middle of January of a new year and people are either getting into the routine of accomplishing their New Year’s Resolutions, or perhaps they are already nearing the point of abandonment.  My resolutions for a new year are always the same every year, and I continue to attempt to accomplish these same goals at fairly regular intervals throughout the year.   My resolutions are similar to those of countless others:  lose “x” number of pounds as well as exercise more and get in shape.  The value of “x” seems to keep increasing with every attempt.

I’m hopeful that perhaps this year might be different. 

This past Christmas while our son Brendan was home for the holidays, he shared an article he found entitled “This is Your Brain on Gluten” written by James Hamblin.  It’s a lengthy article, but he writes about different discoveries and observations by certain doctors and scientists about the effects of gluten on the body physically and emotionally.  My husband Eric was quite interested in the article and a book it referenced, particularly as it seemed to find a correlation between gluten and emotional health. 

I believe Eric had a glimmer of hope that if he could make a lifestyle change and eat differently, perhaps he would experience improved emotional health. 

The article and book espoused a paleo diet, which has been described as the caveman diet.  Simply put, you can eat whatever the cavemen, as hunters and gatherers ate:  meat, vegetables, fruits, seeds and nuts.  No wheat, no grains, no sugar. 

Brendan has been eating a paleo diet, although not in strict observance, for over a year and is quite committed to its benefits.  Since I am celiac and have had to be on a gluten-free diet for the past 15 years, I figure I’m basically half-way to paleo. 

   

So this year, Eric is making a concerted effort to eat paleo and to be as strict and disciplined about it as he is able.   Being a long-distance truck driver makes it a little bit of a challenge, but his little slow cooker is his new best friend in the truck.  He even made his own beef jerky this past week.

The other night I made a paleo meal for the whole family.  A spinach garden salad with chicken (chicken recipe here:  http://www.paleorecipesworld.com/paleo-chick-fil-a-recipe/).  I used boneless chicken thighs and had about 50+ pieces of chicken.  And absolutely no leftovers.     I’ll be making this recipe again!

Eric made a comment the other day that he wished he would have been more supportive back when I was diagnosed as celiac and started eating gluten-free.  I believe he was realizing that it is much easier to accomplish these kinds of lifestyle changes when you have the support of someone else.  A “buddy system” is a good system and works because you’ve got someone walking alongside you that holds you accountable. 

When I started on my gluten free diet, I was in the last trimester of my 4^th pregnancy.  It wasn’t just about changing my diet at that point.  I was preoccupied with having a new baby and looking after baby’s 3 older brothers.   I took care of feeding the family first, and then made myself whatever was gluten free, quick and easy.   I didn’t always make healthy choices (milk chocolate is gluten free, but not really a good choice).  15 years ago, gluten free options weren’t what they are today! 

 

When I started on my gluten free diet, a buddy would have been helpful to have.

I am hopeful that this year, Eric and I can make healthy lifestyle choices together.   I will be his buddy.  I believe he wants to be mine too.

In the bleak midwinter ...

“In the bleak midwinter” ...  I heard this Christmas song over the radio this past week and it kind of stayed with me.  Not all of it, mind you, as unfortunately the only words I can remember are “In the bleak midwinter”...  I do know the last verse of the song though:

What can I give Him, poor as I am?

If I were a shepherd, I would bring a lamb;

If I were a Wise Man, I would do my part;

Yet what I can I give Him: give my heart.

This last verse has always been a favorite of mine.  I actually thought it was a song on its own and only just recently realized that it is the last verse of the song"In the Bleak Midwinter", actually penned as a poem long ago by Christina Rossetti.

But this year, I’m having a hard time getting past “in the bleak midwinter”, as that’s sort of how life feels right now.  Bleak.  Cold.  Winter. 

I seem to be stuck in my own bleak midwinter, but the truth is, in that bleak midwinter long ago, God of Heaven came down, the Lord God Almighty, Jesus Christ.   He didn't come to a palace, or a top-notch hospital, befitting the birth of a King, but to a lowly stable, surrounded by hay and animals.  

And in my own bleak midwinter, the Lord God Almighty, Jesus Christ, wants to enter in and reign.  He doesn't care about the mess and disorder in my life.  He's been there before; he's been in the lowly stable.

In my bleak midwinter, I wonder what I have to offer the King of Kings.  In my weariness and the aches and pains of life, it feels like I have absolutely nothing in the well and the reserves are running on empty.  

What can I give Him?  What do I have to offer?  Nothing, really.  And yet, He loves me and wants to live with me and have a relationship with me.  All He wants from me is my heart.

So what can I give Him?  I choose to give Him my heart.   And in doing that, I will trust Him to walk with me through my bleak midwinter.  

In the bleak midwinter

BY CHRISTINA ROSSETTI; Music: Cranham, Gus­tav T. Holst

In the bleak midwinter, frosty wind made moan,

Earth stood hard as iron, water like a stone;

Snow had fallen, snow on snow, snow on snow,

In the bleak midwinter, long ago.

Our God, Heaven cannot hold Him, nor earth sustain;

Heaven and earth shall flee away when He comes to reign.

In the bleak midwinter a stable place sufficed

The Lord God Almighty, Jesus Christ.

Enough for Him, whom cherubim, worship night and day,

Breastful of milk, and a mangerful of hay;

Enough for Him, whom angels fall before,

The ox and ass and camel which adore.

Angels and archangels may have gathered there,

Cherubim and seraphim thronged the air;

But His mother only, in her maiden bliss,

Worshipped the beloved with a kiss.

What can I give Him, poor as I am?

If I were a shepherd, I would bring a lamb;

If I were a Wise Man, I would do my part;

Yet what I can I give Him: give my heart.

A Season of Hope – Part II

Lately I have been clinging to hope like it’s a safety rope.  Hope, as in I hope that my truck-driving husband gets back on the road and gets some good miles under his belt so we can pay the bills.  Or I hope that my furnace keeps heating and makes it through the winter ... without any more repair bills.

This past week, apparently God needed to shake up my “hope” and re-focus it. 

The good news is that my husband got back out on the road and got a long trip to Florida.  The bad news is that he had mechanical issues with the truck that needed repair and spent 3 days waiting in Georgia for the truck to be fixed.  Thankfully he’s back on the road.

It was good news when the furnace repair tech that came out a week ago got my furnace working again.  The bad news was that when the fellow came to clean the furnace this past Thursday, he discovered it wasn’t working again.  Thankfully a new furnace was installed on Friday.  That’s actually very good news, especially with the cold temperatures we’re having right now!

I had been clinging to hopes that were intertwined with my fears.  That’s not really hope at all, but more like desperation. 

In the words of a classic hymn I grew up with,

My hope is built on nothing less
Than Jesus’ blood and righteousness. 
I dare not trust the sweetest frame, 
But wholly trust in Jesus’ Name.
On Christ the solid Rock I stand, 
All other ground is sinking sand; 
All other ground is sinking sand.

My hope shouldn’t be on anything or anyone; not that truck, my husband or the furnace repair guy.   My hope needs to be grounded on who Jesus is and His great love and care for me. 

Psalm 25:5 says "Lead me by your truth and teach me, for you are the God who saves me.  All day long I put my hope in you."

The focus for the second week of Advent varies depending on the denomination and liturgy, but “Preparation” follows “Hope”.  It’s not a “getting ready” by shopping, wrapping and baking, but a preparation of the heart to celebrate Jesus during this season of hope, love and peace.

My preparation already started last week when we had obstacles and difficulties come our way with the truck and the furnace.  It seemed that every day I was reminded in small ways to be thankful in all circumstances and to have a heart of praise even when I wanted to cry in despair.  I chose to thank God for taking care of us, and believed He would.

My Hope is Jesus, and I will continue to make my heart ready to celebrate Him this season with thanksgiving and praise.

We may not have a lot of gifts under the tree this year, but we will be together as a family, sharing in the gifts of love that we have for each other.  And with our newly installed furnace, we will be warm!

A Season of Hope

It's the first Sunday of Advent today, and the first candle is lit.  

It's a season of expectancy; a season of waiting. 

A season to remember what it is we celebrate this time of year;

We celebrate the birth of a King.

So long ago a baby was born and in a lowly manger laid.

He was named Jesus, as the prophets foretold,

Immanuel, meaning "God with us",

Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God,

Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.

In that baby born there is hope for all people;

Hope for redemption, salvation and peace.

Come, Thou long expected Jesus, Born to set Thy people free;

From our fears and sins release us;  Let us find our rest in Thee.

Israel's strength and consolation, Hope of all the earth Thou art;

Dear Desire of every nation, Joy of every longing heart.

Born Thy people to deliver, Born a Child, and yet a King.

Born to reign in us forever, Now Thy gracious kingdom bring.

By Thine own eternal Spirit rule in all our hearts alone;

By Thine all sufficient merit, Raise us to Thy glorious throne.

I just happened to check out Ann Voskamp's blog.  She puts it so well.

 http://www.aholyexperience.com/2013/12/advent-devotionals-week-01-hope/

Isaiah 40: 28-31:
Do you not know?  Have you not heard?
The Lord is the everlasting God, the Creator of the ends of the earth.
He will not grow tired or weary, and his understanding no one can fathom.
He gives strength to the weary and increases the power of the weak.
Even youths grow tired and weary, and young men stumble and fall;
But those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength.
They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary,
They will walk and not be faint.

Personal space

I’ve been using public transit to get to and from work ever since I started working in downtown Winnipeg, 25+ years ago.  That’s a lot of bus tickets.  I’m realizing that I’ve grown far more aware of my personal space, and perhaps the lack thereof, especially while riding public transit.  I’m just not comfortable being in close proximity with total strangers.  Given the option of standing in the aisle or sitting in a space where my thighs are touching the people next to me, I’ll stand every time.  In my opinion, “cheek to cheek” should refer to dancing with a special someone, not sitting “cheek to cheek” with people I don’t know.

The other day I got on an already full bus in the morning and while standing in the crowded aisle, I had a woman on my left who chose to keep her two large handbags over her shoulder while she was holding on to the bus handrails and simultaneously texting on her phone.  On my other side was a man who placed his duffle bag on the floor at my feet.  The texting woman’s bags were constantly being pressed into my back and I had little room to move away because of the duffle bag at my feet.  That’s just too close for my own comfort.  Thankfully, on an express bus with very few stops, the ride downtown is a quick one.

It was during those uncomfortable moments on that bus ride that I began to wonder if I prefer people at arm’s length in my relationships too.  It’s never been an easy thing for me to initiate relational connections. Obviously there are less chances to be wounded emotionally by another person if you choose not to be vulnerable and open yourself up. 

I do have friends that I don’t mind being “cheek to cheek” with.  Maintaining that circle of personal space with total strangers is one thing, but I know I don’t want to keep the people that I love and enjoy being with at arm’s length as well.    

A Facebook friend of mine happened to post the following C.S. Lewis quote yesterday, which I thought was quite timely and challenging in view of my recent musings on my personal space and relationships:

“To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything, and your heart will certainly be wrung and possibly broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact, you must give your heart to no one, not even to an animal.  Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements; lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness.  But in that casket- safe, dark, motionless, airless—it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable.”

Volleyball Lessons

The school volleyball season is nearing its end for two of my boys.  Needless to say, it’s been a busy couple of months with one son on the varsity team, and the other playing junior varsity.  But it’s been a good busy.  My leaves aren’t raked yet nor the autumn yard clean-up done, but that will just have to wait ... maybe until spring, depending on when the first snow flies.

In my limited volleyball experience (limited as a parent only, with no playing experience to speak of), I’ve learned a few lessons and made some observations.   

Lesson #1:  It’s really just common sense, but as a spectator, if you want to have a coffee at the game, you need to either be hyper-vigilant, watching in all directions and at all times for waywardly-hit balls, or you need to bring your coffee in a travel mug with a sealed lid.  Just saying ... I've seen my share of spills.

Lesson #2:  Friendships form, as do rivalries.  Sometimes rivals may even become friends once they become teammates.  Keep cultivating those friendships, even when you’re on opposite sides of the net.

My boys have played for their school teams as well as for club teams, which means they’ve had a number of different teammates.    It also means I’ve met a lot of other volleyball parents and made some great friends over the years.

Photo Credit:  Kim Olfert Photography

Lesson # 3:  “Mental toughness” applied to volleyball means shaking off a bad play, a shanked pass, a missed serve, a fumed hit, and re-focusing on the next point. There's no time for wallowing and reflecting on what just happened. Move on right away.  

A few years ago, when our son Brendan started playing club volleyball, my husband made it his personal mission to educate Brendan, and our other sons too, about “mental toughness”.   By the end of that season, I think Brendan probably hated hearing the words “mental toughness”.  But I’m fairly certain he’s thankful for that learned lesson now.

Lesson #4:  Passion is key as a player, but not always healthy as a fan (it is, after all, derived from the word “fanatic”).  A passionate fan can be a great encourager and a spark plug to individual players and to the team as a whole.  Alternatively, a passionate fan who spews negativity is perhaps more of a hindrance than a help.

What kind of fan am I?  What do people hear in my words?   What kind of attitude do I bring to the game?  While I’m passionate about encouraging my boys and their teammates and friends, I’m discovering I have a low tolerance for whiners, poor sports, "hot dogs" and divas.

In a team setting, players have the opportunity to learn sportsmanship, team spirit and cooperation, and respect for authority.  I’m very thankful for many of the coaches my boys have had who have taught them these lessons in addition to their volleyball skills and a love for the game.

Photo Credit:  Kim Olfert Photography