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Some Days

April 9, 2012

I really hate to write this entry and much of me wants to wait to share until I am in a different place, but I think it’s important for me to authentically share my journey of grief and healing. Some days are just really tough, and today has been one of them.

When we started down this journey, a friend of a friend very kindly shared her battle with depression. I was struck by her description, and find myself, at times, completely able to identify. I will share an excerpt from a letter written to Sydney.

“I am writing you because I was in the midst of cleaning my house when stronger than I have experienced in some time, I felt compelled by the Holy Spirit to pray for you and to write you and tell you that I am praying for hope…deep, peaceful, abiding, hope.  I struggle with depression and some years ago, I was in a deep bout of dark depression brought on my some fears pertaining to my physical health and the uncertainty of trusting God [meaning, trusting God doesn’t mean I’m promised health, simply that He is with us and cares for us, He has good things for us, and He is enough–which is all we need, but that is much easier to accept in theory without being tested.]  anyways, one of the most profound things I remember experiencing in that time, were these moments of peace and security and trust and hope, followed immediately by the temptation to say, “ok God, but what about this over here…what are you going to do about this?  can you promise me this or fix this?” And the moment I did that I would feel the peace slipping.  I had this mental picture of a trash heap basically labeled “my fears”..you can label it whatever.  And my back was towards it and I was facing Jesus, but I kept being so tempted to turn and look at it, to go back and try and figure it out, to drag Jesus over to it and beg him to do something about it, but His only answer was to just leave it alone, give it to him, and just keep my eyes on Him and to stay in that place of peace and trust and hope.  I cannot tell you the moment by moment struggle it was to resist the temptation to want to go back and do something with that pile of fears…it was exhausting.  I am sure you know better than me the tiresome work of taking captive your thoughts, but I pray that today you might experience some relief and find it easy to have hope and to trust and keep your heart on Jesus, and live in the present.”

What triggers this could be anything. Last night, for example, I got of the phone with my mom, as I was putting Boone to bed. He looked at me curiously and asked, “You were talking to mommy?” “I was talking to my mom, Bon-Bon,” I told him. “Bon-Bon?” he said. “Yes,” I said. He didn’t miss a beat and we continued the bedtime routine as he grabbed a book from the shelf. However, it hit me like a ton of bricks that for one brief moment, Boone thought I was talking to Sydney on the phone. As we have been told by psychologists, children can’t understand the concept of permanence until they are at least five years old, so this would not be such a stretch for him.

It just broke my heart to consider how long of a road he has to travel in terms of grieving the loss of his mother. His sweet, lighthearted, and purely innocent spirit simply can’t grasp the severity of the question he asked me. But one day he will know. One day he will understand and he will have to bear the loss.

But true to God’s faithful pursuit of me, while I have been nearly paralyzed today, struggling to simply do anything, He has literally bombarded me with loving emails, texts and calls from family and friends. As I was thinking about going to the gym, one friend texted and asked me to go with him. I came home yesterday to a peace lily left by friends, several Easter cards and notes and a book from my sister-in-law.

I will leave you with a few excerpts from Andrew Peterson’s “Fool With A Fancy Guitar”

I’ve got voices that scream in my head like a siren
Fears that I feel in the night when I sleep
Stupid choices I made when I played in the mire
Like a kid in the mud on some dirty blind street

I’ve got sorrow to spare, I’ve got loneliness too
I’ve got blood on these hands that hold on to the truth
That I am a priest and a prince in the Kingdom of God

But if it’s true that you gathered my sin in your hand
And you cast it as far as the east is from the west
If it’s true that you put on the flesh of a man
And you walked in my shoes through the shadow of death

If it’s true that you dwell in the halls of my heart
Then I’m not just a fool with a fancy guitar
No, I am a priest and a prince in the Kingdom of God

From → Stories

2 Comments
  1. Sadee permalink

    Thank you for writing, Todd. Praying for you tonight.

  2. Ashley permalink

    Todd…it’s crazy how you can feel “paralyzed to do anything” but yet He gave you strength to write these words that today give me extra encouragement to seek Him. I love you for that. Praying for you brother:)

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