Last week was full of spring. The kids and I walked to school each day, relishing the calls of the robins, cardinals and red-wing blackbirds. We caught sight of a mother duck with her ducklings, played "Pooh Sticks" on the bridge, counted the fish we spotted in the stream, and watched the dogwoods unfold their flowers. We breathed deep the fresh air and the fragrance of the crabapple blossoms, and stared up into the blue, blue sky. Even the dandelions in the field were golden treasures scattered on an emerald carpet.
One would think it was a perfect week. But the beauty in this world only reaches to a certain point in the soul, and when the soul is sore all the beauty in the world won't cure it.
My heart, mind and soul seem to have been aching all spring and I'm not sure what will be the cure.
On the one hand my objective brain can analyze the situation: The weather has been, for the most part, miserable this spring--cold, wet, gray. There are some big issues that I've been working through that relate to my posts over the past few months (note: no posts for almost two months), and there hasn't been resolution (except that Kraig and I know where we are on the issue, and we're together on it; can't complain there!). The kids have been hit with a number of spring bugs, and two weeks ago I was hit upside the head with a nasty cold as well that is finally getting better (and Kraig has just gotten it, lucky guy :( ). In the middle of that cold, I managed to pull off a major personal failing--one of those where you wonder why God didn't give you a nice, big nudge in the midst to let you know that you were about to make a royal mess of things. As a result I had an epiphany that while I may have learned the vital truth that we must "fervently love," I have still to figure out that others perceive love differently than I may show it. On top of this, I've been short with the kids, I miss Keren, I'm not writing, my kitchen (not to mention house) has reflected my state of mind, yada, yada, yada....
So yes, my objective brain looks at all this and says, "Loren, you are depressed."
Nice to know, isn't it? But immediately a chorus from my subjective brain takes off:
"Why, Loren? Why are you depressed? Is this a chemical imbalance? Do you need to see someone? Or is this all spiritual and you need to hand it to God to take care of? Remember, 'Cast all your anxieties on Him, for He cares for you!' How long do you think this is going to last? How long does it need to last before you know you need to do something about it?" Etc., etc., etc.
And yet even in the midst of this wallowing (there is a self-pitying giant rumbling beneath this) I know the unalterable truth. "Who will rescue me from this body of death? Thanks be to God--through Jesus Christ our Lord!" That clarion truth-call cuts through all the webs around my soul, and my objective brain knows that I am caught up in lies when I could be singing praise along with the world burgeoning with spring about me. But for me right now, my song is "Hosanna," which appropriately means, "pray, save us!" I know the truth, but I'm not sure how to break free of the webs. I know only Christ can show me the way, and I'm not sure when He's going to show it. I am in a waiting period, utterly dependent on Him because I don't have the strength to fix this.
So in other words, I am exactly where God wants me.