The Inheritance We Leave for our Children

I woke up much earlier than I wanted to this morning, but in the quiet place of aloneness, I started looking through my son’s West Point graduation photos, and soon tears were running down my cheeks. It doesn’t seem that long ago that I was taking him to his first day of kindergarten. He is a grown man now, an officer in the U.S. Army.

The photos reminded me once again of how proud I am of him, and the joy I have in his successes.  From the time he was born, I knew he was destined for good things. And indeed, God has been good to him. With the abundant grace of God, my husband and I have never fought or yelled, threatened divorce, or any number of things that leave children scarred and unsteady when it comes to loving another person. All they know is what has been modeled, and God gave me a man who has endless patience and who loves me in spite of all the craziness I have brought to our marriage.

My son, my precious son, was a true gift from God to us. The intensity of my love for him cannot be put in words other than I would lay down my life for him. We chose his name because it means “Gift of Jehovah.”  My pride in his work ethic, his honesty, his striving to do his best always, and his determination to make a difference in the world that surrounds him, overflows and I wonder how he managed to turn out the way he did in spite of living with a bipolar mother. I cannot remember what and when the assignment was, but he said his hero was his father. That didn’t surprise me because he has been a rock in our family, showing what being a man of God looks like.

I know without a doubt he also loves me. I quit a good paying job to rear him myself. I didn’t want strangers with differing ideals taking care of him. It was a huge financial step backwards for us, but I knew that was what God wanted and my husband agreed. Somehow we made it, even though on paper it looked impossible. Yes, between that and keeping our son in private parochial schools throughout his primary and secondary schooling gave him a shot at his dream of going to West Point. He had a very good education, and though we spent money that could have been set aside for retirement, it was worth every penny to make sure he got the best education he we could provide for him. Because we willingly sacrificed for him, we have faith God will somehow help us make it through our retirement years.

Our children are gifts and to be treasured and loved unconditionally to demonstrate God’s love toward his people. So, I cling to the promise from Proverbs that says if we train up a child in the ways of God, when he is old, he will not depart from him. Love your children and grandchildren while they are within your reach to show them the ways of God. They listen and hide away those words and actions in their hearts. Pray fervently for them should they stray. They will come back. I strayed for fifteen years, and my parents prayed for me daily. God heard and answered their prayers and I returned to the fold. Now I can never go back to life without faith. I recognize how much I need the Lord. That is the best inheritance we could possibly leave to our son. It was the inheritance I received from my parents. There is no greater gift we can leave to our children.

Faith, hope and love, but the greatest of these is love. Give all three to your children, but remember that love will make faith and hope firmly rooted in their hearts. The baby I bore 25 years ago is no longer under my direct care, but my love never wavers, nor do my prayers. God is faithful to his children’s children, and no matter how far they may drift, God will draw them back. You should find comfort in that, for God loves them far more than we possibly can, and in his hand where no one can snatch them they will remain. And the model of faith and love you have shown them will be the same they give to their children. God had declared that he is faithful to the generations of those who fear him. What an incredible promise. Hang on to it. He showers the children of his children with love and grace, for he demonstrated his love and mercy to us when his only Son endured the cross of death for us. What more can be said?

Step into the Light

About seven years ago, inspiration struck and I wrote a children’s book. So far, it’s had favorable reviews from those I have shown it to. Its intended audience is preschool, two-four or five years in age. In that time, I pitched it to one publisher who sent a very nice rejection letter. I’ve done nothing with it since then.

I purchased a Writer’s Market book as well as a Children’s Writer’s book to help me get it published. But I haven’t worked on a gripping cover letter and the book stays on the computer. I think I have an issue with rejection. The fact is that most writers get far more rejection letters than contracts to publish. I should take that to heart and not let the rejections stop me. Someone out there will surely like it and I’ll finally be a published author. But it is a daunting task.

Rejection hurts, and I am not talking about baring your writing to strangers who do the rejecting. Rejection comes in all forms and has enormous power to destroy lives. If my book is never published, I will get to work on another and try to get published again. But, that really is small potatoes when compared to rejection of the whole person. The entire world is filled with rejection. It’s littered with broken relationships, agonizing pain from rejection that comes in the form of bullying, and fearful hearts hiding behind carefully constructed facades to keep from being hurt.

We all hide to some extent, not wanting some secrets to be discovered, impure thoughts, addictions to mind altering drugs and alcohol, or pornography; such a small list. Jealousy, embezzling, and cheating now and then, the list is endless. And we justify it to ourselves in vain, because deep down we know it is wrong and fear exposure more than anything. Christians still live in a body of weak flesh and need the strength only the Holy Spirit can provide to overcome sinful desires. But there is one requirement, it must be confessed and in doing so brought into the light. Do I hear shaking knees yet?

In my past, I wasted fifteen years caught up in alcoholism, drug abuse, promiscuity and a host of other sins I will not go into. I stepped into the brightness of God’s searching eyes, and held nothing back to the person I chose to disclose all the sordid details. I chose carefully, because I knew the wrong person could cast judgment on me and leave me to suffer the painful rejection I feared more than anything. But she was a woman of God and she made no judgments. Her response was to embrace me and help me pray for forgiveness. She was literally God’s stand-in extending his mercy and grace and declaring I was now a new child of God. All was forgiven and though I might struggle occasionally, I knew where I could go to confess and be restored in relationship to God. I basked in the light of heaven and knew I would never be the same again, regardless of stumbling and times of failure. Such relief washed over me. I was clean!

God’s grace, mercy, and love are there for all humanity. Not all are going to take the offer of free salvation. But those who do must walk in the light, as the Lord is light and in him there is no darkness at all. Scripture says to confess your sins to one another that you might be healed. That demands stepping into the light and being exposed. Risky business. But God expects no less and he also holds accountable those who hurt other Christians by casting stones in judgment. Unless they repent of the sin of judgment and rejection, it will be shown in God’s light when they see him.  I am not saying salvation is lost, but there will be a consequence of some kind.  That is up to our Creator.

If, like me you sometimes hide things that are sinful, God wants to set you free. Find a faithful and mature grace-filled Christian and get it out into the light, confessing and receiving cleansing and forgiveness. God does not reject those who are his, and neither should we. No child of God should suffer rejection at the hands of believers. As the old song goes, they’ll know we are Christians by our love.

Pay it Forward, God does

Today, I am very tired. Not enough sleep and a little juggling of my meds was a mistake. I just thought I would see if I could take less now and still sleep. The correct response to that is, “No, I cannot.” I must take more to sleep through the night. It’s only my second full day home, and yet I had to be at the hospital at 5:00 AM for more ECT treatments. Tonight I will not skimp on sleep meds. I paid a high price for doing so.

I don’t even want to know how much this is going to cost me. Of course I have insurance, but there will be some bills to pay. All the time off with no pay, the restricted hours of work, and the tendency to feel useless could creep back in quickly. I need to be busy and to be here sitting in “recovery” mode is not something I like. I know I am probably not ready to go back just yet, but I feel like I make a difference in the lives of others, helping them when I am working. I get a total charge out of finding information for people that is exactly what they are looking for. Awesome feeling.

But I am sitting at home and writing this. I could write about some of the interesting patients I encountered while there, but as funny as some of the anecdotes might be, I don’t like using mental illness as a joke. I will laugh about my own stuff, well, maybe not yet the recent bout. But too many people laugh at the actions and words of mentally ill people, who cannot help it. No one decides as a child that they are going to have sick mind when they grow up. No one says they want to grow up to be a crack head or an alcoholic. But some indeed become slaves to addictions. And some people develop mental illness.

The stigma and stereotypes of those who are mentally ill break my heart. Yes, some are dangerous who have reached a point of total disconnect with other people and reality. But even then, they are more likely to be just be wandering the streets, homeless, nameless people. I had chosen to keep my struggle for a constant hold on reality a secret from my family. Only my husband and a few very close people knew for years. My church has even been in the dark, those not long before I went back into the hospital. I finally said something, and no one came up to me after church, with the exception of one woman who also has Bipolar Disorder, which was good. Now she knows she’s not alone and might count me as a possible sounding board.

But the fact that among a room full of people, no one else said one word to me after prayers and church was over. I am very grateful for those who did gather around me and prayed for me, but others stayed away. No hugs, no questions or comments, no one saying they would continue the prayer for me. Two weeks later I was falling apart. (This blog has meandered to the point that the first couple paragraphs seem out of place, but I shall leave them nevertheless. Felt I had to say that so no one thought I was on too many drugs.)

I guess I am writing to say my mental illness doesn’t define who I am. It does shape my life in some ways, but I am a perfectly acceptable soul in the sight of God, who knows what I go through and doesn’t label me as defective. Unless God, in his plan for my life chooses to heal me, I will go through occasional bouts of mania or depression. In the letter to the Ephesians, Paul writes, “For we are what he has made us, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand to be our way of life.” (2:10)

God doesn’t make mistakes. I cannot say in all honesty that he made me like this, but here I am, formed in the image of God and good works are everywhere if I will just open my eyes to them. Maybe my hamstrings have been cut, but I can still make a difference in the life of another weary traveler on the narrow path.

In some ways, I am grateful for the creativity and passion that are hallmarks of this disorder. Maybe I wouldn’t be writing the way I do if I had my head on straight. I don’t know, and probably never will. I am 59 years old, and this disorder has progressed some. But God can be counted on to carry me and lead me. He is utterly trustworthy. And I want to go on record as saying I love him.

Well, I thought I had another entry in mind, but this is how it has turned out. To the reader, God loves you more than you can possibly understand. He is thrilled you are his, through Christ Jesus. He dances over you with delight. His joy cannot be contained, and I truly hope you are feeling it as it overflows and rains down on you.  We are his children and he will lead us and care for us more than our earthly fathers ever could. Praise be to God, our rock and our Redeemer.

Turn Us, O God

I got home yesterday from another stay at the mental health hotel where it sort of reminds me of the old Eagles song, Hotel California (“You can check out any time you want, but you can never leave.”). This time it took me ten days to get it back together enough to be released, but I am still convalescing. My mother’s death really triggered a bipolar depression crash and I was becoming dangerous to myself. It was harder this time to pull it together this time. My former psychiatrist told me that episodes can become increasingly worse as you age. Not exactly what I wanted to hear. Medications can help prevent brain damage from mania, but I don’t know about the depression side. A new set of medications and time to adjust is what the doctor has ordered. Plus a temporarily reduced work schedule.

I am tired of the Bipolar Disorder roller coaster. It seems to be a never ending ride. And it not only affects me, but those near me. It really is Hotel California of the mind. One hope I find is that this life is short in comparison to the promised eternal life I am looking forward to without pain or tears.

I took my bible with me to the hospital and read the Psalms and other scriptures during my stay. What is so wonderful about the Psalms is that many of them are actually laments and cries for help. I prayed them as I read them. I fervently prayed Psalm 139. God has never left me throughout my life. As someone wise once told me, I have taken the Holy Spirit places that he’d rather I had not gone, but he was there with me nevertheless.

I also had my Grandmother’s Book of Common Prayer which moves me to tears in some of the confessional prayers. One says, “Turn us, O God, turn us and we shall be turned.” Turned back to him in our sinful wanderings, our fears, our sorrows.  There is no limit on what the Holy Spirit can do within the heart of the believer if it is laid bare and open. The soil of the heart can be rocky and hard, but with the work of the Spirit, albeit painful at times, the ground can be cleared, plowed and made ready for the seed of the living Word to take root, grow and yield a bountiful harvest. Our part is to ask for it and then go with the flow, withholding nothing.

So what does that have to do with mental illness? Plenty. There are trials and tribulations in this life. Mine is Bipolar. Others may face other daunting struggles, but the scripture assures us that God never forsakes us, never gives us more than we can handle, and provides all we need to turn our tears into springs of living water. I can use my past addictions and current mental state to help others in similar struggles, of any struggles, really, keeping in mind that not all burdens are self-imposed, they are sometimes the result of living in this fallen world. I would rather be a bit crazy and trust in God for the grace to carry me through, than to live problem free, without needing the Lord.

My pastor gave me a scripture to hold onto while I was in this acute flare. Habakkuk 3:17-19:

Though the fig tree does not blossom, and no fruit is on the vines; although the produce of the olive fails, and the fields yield no food; although the flock is cut off from the fold, and there is no herd in the stalls, yet I will rejoice in the Lord; I will exult in the God of my salvation. God, the Lord, is my strength; he makes my feet like the feet of a deer and makes me tread upon the heights.

I read it every day. At some point I will find myself on the mountain top again, and I will know how I got there: the unrelenting, unsurpassable, undying grace of God, mingled with his sweet, tender mercies. Until then, I must wait. Just as all creation groans, so will we, but always tinged with hope of better things to come. 

Fairly Tales and Truth

Hey diddle the cat and the fiddle

The cow jumped over the moon

The little dog laughed to see such sport

And the dish ran away with the spoon

I still don’t know what that childhood ditty means. But whomever thought of it should have received some sort of prize for creative writing. A Pulitzer for children’s limericks. There are many children’s stories written in the middle-ages through the present that aren't so lighthearted. Witches, goblins, evil kings and queens, wolves that eat grandmothers, poisoned apples. The list of evils awaiting unsuspecting children is boundless and no doubt there was a lot of lost sleep from hearing such stories. I have heard it said the stories were written to teach young children to watch their ways or evil awaited them.

There are grown up stories, too, that offer good or bad choices and the consequences that go with the moral of the story. Some are known as urban myths. Generally untrue. But there are true stories that should and do stir the hearts of those with open minds. The first that comes to mind is the very real story of Adam and Eve. Given paradise in which to dwell eternally, they instead chose to seek beyond what God intended and the consequences were terrible. No longer would they have paradise, but they lost eternal life, and now had to live with the destructiveness of sin. Innocence forever lost.

The bible is filled with true tales of our sinful nature and the pain we and others experience as a result of acting on sinful desires is real and lowers ourselves in our own eyes, and often in the eyes of others. Thank God he has sent a Redeemer to break the chains that kept us trapped in the lifestyle of sin. We had no power to overcome the great power of sin. We were slaves and the first covenant God made with his people failed to break sin’s power. Rules to follow that could have made a real difference could not be followed. The people of God and all humanity were ensnared and powerless to stop sinning.

But our Redeemer, Jesus Christ, took all the weight of our sins and sinful nature and died with them covering him. God raised him from the dead to make it possible for us to be resurrected, too. The power of sin is broken forever and those who believe Jesus is our Savior and confess it openly will be saved, even if we stumble and sin, which we will do from time to time. We are works in progress, being molded into the likeness of Jesus through the power of the Holy Spirit.

So rejoice that sin is no longer our taskmaster making us do whatever it wants, but rather now we have freedom to flee to the one who forgives when we fail and sin. We now have a power to not sin, though we sometimes will. All is a learning process, just like those fairy tales of so long ago. It’s just that the stories in the bible are true and teach us how to live in freedom and not fear. All is being made ready for us is heaven to be with him.  The cloud of witnesses who have already made it there are cheering us on. Read the promises of God of rejoice in them. He is not a man that he should lie. He is our creator and longs for all to be saved. You are his children, and your Daddy awaits you.

Here is a verse that is true, and unlike the silly children’s limerick, does make sense.

Come to me, all you that are weary and carrying heavy burdens

 and I will give you rest.

Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me; for I am gentle

 and humble in your heart,

and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden light.

The Pain of Grief

There are down days, blue days, sad days, but then there are days of unrelenting grief. Some days when we are just blue they only last a day or two. There are a myriad of reasons for days when we feel down, some of which we can’t define. We just have the blues.

But grief is a whole other thing. It’s a process, one that can take months, and for some even years. Today I had to leave work early because the grief was too strong. Today my parents would have celebrated 63 years of marriage. But my father and mother are gone. My mother only a few months and I cry some each day. I grieved when my father died, but there is something different about a mother. You hear her voice while in the womb. You feel her hand as she strokes her swollen belly.

A mother’s love is ferocious. Unless there is something wrong with the mother or child, there is a bond that takes place early and mom becomes nurse, play partner, sleeps with you so the closet monsters creepy things under the bed don’t get you. She fixes your favorite meal on your birthday, attends all plays, concerts, games, and claps the loudest for you. She is your biggest fan and helps you get ready for your first prom. And nothing can hold back the tears of when you say, “I do.”

As much as I grieve her death, I also grieve times when I didn’t call or visit as much as I should have and the times when I disappointed her, and caused fear to grip her. Before she passed away I leaned down to whisper to her that I was so sorry for the years I wandered caught up in addictions. And she told me to shush, that she loved me through it all. This causes me to cry when I think of it. The pain I caused her didn’t matter, all that mattered was love. Still it hurts, and no doubt will for a season, or two.

Today I am deeply grieved. We skipped Mother’s Day. It didn’t matter. Without Mom, it really wasn’t Mother’s Day. She was the glue that held us together. Hopefully, that glue is long lasting even in her absence. I need my remaining family, I need my friends. I need non-judgmental love. I need God, yet he feels so far away. Sadness that could lead to another bout of depression is not inconceivable. I have been there and felt the chill, and tasted the bitterness.  

Still, I know in my heart that she and my father are no longer in pain. And though I miss her terribly, the day will come when God calls me home and I will see them again. But for now, I will have to travel the road of the grief process. At some point the memories won’t hurt anymore. And I will laugh at some of the stories I have stored in my heart. Until that day, tears fall and pain is palatable. Somehow God will get me though this. I don’t know how and I don’t know when. But his grace is amazing even when we don’t sense it. And right now I need that grace.