Infestation

We never know there's a problem, because it's always the last thing on your mind.  We just continue on with our lives, as if nothing is wrong.

But ignoring it doesn't make the problem go away;  it just grows and spreads, without your awareness, feeding on our lifeblood.
It hides, only showing itself in the dark places, attracted to our waste; and that's what ends up bringing the problem out into the open.
By the time we realize there's a problem, we're covered in the evidence of it, and we can't ignore it anymore.  Neither can anyone else we come in contact with.

When we finally take stock of the problem, we'll see it everywhere, with eyes now drawn to all its evidences.
We realize that it has infiltrated so much, that it weaves and crawls, in and out, sneaking into the seams of the very fabric we rest on.

There's no way to tackle the problem discreetly; once the problem is known, it must be addressed head on, full force.

The only thing that gets rid of the problem is prolonged, extreme heat; sending the infestation out of hiding, seeking refuge in our darkness, only to be burned alive upon exposure to the searing heat.

Everything has to be cleaned, individually assessed, to ensure the infestation can't spread.

The process is time consuming, tedious, and painfully humbling in the attention it brings.  All our dirty laundry is left out for all to see as we break it all down and clean it all, piece by piece.

The cleansing takes time; time that could be spent on better things in our lives, or so we think.  But we'll only continue to ignore the problem if we don't address it thoroughly, in it's entirety.

Once we admit the issues brought on by this infestation; the causes, the continuation, and the alleviation; our entire life is different.

Because of the effort it took to clear it, we've become vigilant and aware of it's presence.

Determined never to have to deal with this again, every preventative measure is taken to make sure we're not re-infested.  One of the by-products of this vigilance is the awareness of the infestations in the lives of others.

It seems like never ending work, because the infestation is everywhere.  We are soon able to tell if others are willing to recognize and admit their own infestation.
If not, well, they'll just have to learn the hard way.

Like we did.

God help us.

Some mornings I hate the freedom the internet gives us.
That's a little harsh, because, well, here I am, on the internet.  I'm sure there's plenty of people who read what I write, and disagree just as much, so I need to chill for a minute.

(Breathe.  Think.  Breathe.)

I think what really bothers me is that the ones with the biggest followings, or the most influence (in the terms of reaching the most people) aren't addressing the horrible things we experience with the fullness of grace that we're called to.  (Myself included.  Believe me, I've spent a good thirty minutes bouncing off the walls in my house, venting my frustrations and anger at people's generic statements, usually in colorful terms.)

(Breathe, think, breathe.)

Mental illness and depression (and suicide) are hot topics again today, because now it's public knowledge of a celebrity's struggle with these things.
And, all of a sudden, everyone's an expert.  Dealing with it your whole life does not make one an expert, it makes someone who has a perspective worthy of adding to the discussion.

As I see it, and don't crucify me (I can do that well enough on my own, thankyouverymuch), the things we each go through are just as individual to us as our fingerprints.  Not one person lives the same exact life as someone else.  No one has the same experiences, the same family, the same emotions, the same brain, the same hormones, the same work ethic, or even the same faith.
Because of all those differences, how each one of us responds to our life experiences differs, as well.

The same can be said for illness.  Mental illness has been likened to cancer, in that it's a disease; a malfunction in the proper operation of the body.
There are different kind of cancers.  Some are slow progressing, easily detected, and treatable; while others are quick, aggressive, ruthless, and leave us shaking in the wake of a life gone too soon.
Because of all the different kind of cancers, there are different kinds of treatments. One treatment may work for some kind of cancers, where the same treatment may be completely ineffective for others.
In order to treat cancer, the doctor has to know the patient, know the disease, and know the treatments.

In the case of depression, just as with cancer, there are varying degrees of depression; each as individual as the lives of the people who struggle with it.

Internet experts may state that 'finding your joy' is the trick to beating depression.  And maybe that worked for them, and it may actually help someone else who fights their depression.  God willing, I pray it does.
But for those who struggle with the agony of opening their eyes each day, this advice is more than likely going to be received with a retaliatory punch in the throat; especially when the advice is delivered with what could be perceived as condescension and false expertise.

As those who follow Christ, we have a responsibility to one another.  That responsibility is a call to love, with grace and compassion.
Grace and compassion allow us to see one another as fellow human beings; as people, all of us broken in some way, shape, or form.  Whether we can see each other's brokenness isn't the point, neither is it to point out the brokenness, or offer our quick fix solutions.  We're just called to be there.  To share our lives.

The more deeply we become involved in one another's lives, the more we discover that our "kitsch Jesus" doesn't answer the tough questions in life.  Simple, one-liner, crutches (most of which lack any theological truth) won't help those who may be drowning in darkness.  If we look carefully, we'll see that our kitsch Jesus mentality steers us clear of any of the darkness in this life, as well as the darkness in the lives of others.  Our kitsch Jesus mentality keeps us on a pedestal of our own creation, zinging one-liners out to whoever we see below us.  After all, we have all the answers (in one line)... what would we ever need God for??

If we treated each person we met with the 'one-liner-fixes-all' mentality, then we're missing out on the beauty of the love and healing of Christ, that, Newsflash: He uses us for, in the lives of those around us.

To love, as we're called to love, is to de-elevate ourselves; deflate the importance of our self-imposed beliefs for the sake of sharing love and truth with someone.  To love is to be connected.  The value of our relationships become evident in our presence with one another, not in our correctness.  (Think about it... is there anyone in your life who always has to be right?  We don't end up spending much time with them, do we.)  To love is to value you, just as you are.  Just as I am.  And to realize that what worked for me in certain situations may not work for you, and that's okay.  You are not me, and I am not you.  Acceptance of that truth alone may just change the way we look at each other, and respond to one another.

If we were to spend time together, getting to know one another, instead of advising and judging one another, we might just see how our presence in each other's lives makes our story go on just a little bit longer.  In the life of someone battling mental illness, depression, or suicidal thoughts, that may make all the difference in the world.

Together, we might just be able to hold off the darkness.
Even if it's just for one more day.

Snapshots of Eden

The sun had just dipped behind the treetops on the horizon, giving way to twilight.

As the night creatures emerged, something else did too.  Innocence crept in, and I almost missed it.

Weary from our day of being cooped up in the car, the gut-twisting meals on the go, and ridiculous eye-rolling and laughter generated by silly music blasting through the car's speakers; when the car finally stopped, all four doors burst open, and our energy could finally be released.

Greeted by the cool evening air of this northern valley, the first relaxed breath exhaled "home".  Not the "home" we lived in now, but the "home" of memories and dreams.

Hugs and kisses; excited expressions of familial love dispersed.  We sat to catch up, take in assessments of well-being that just can't be done over the phone.

Attention spans being what they are, it didn't take long for the kids to find something to do.
Because of the boy's familiarity with the settings (and his lack of fear which allows him to enjoy every moment), he grabbed the girl, and they ran off into the deepening shade of the yard.

Socks and shoes off, I could tell she was taking it all in.  She'd never been here before, so she wasn't quite ready to leave his side to explore on her own.

Once he showed her around, pointing out everything they saw, I felt her relax from across the yard.
Without her even knowing, it happened... she let go; triggered by the soft flash of the firefly in front of her face.
Their careful exploration transformed into a carefree chase, the quintessential childhood memory played out before my eyes.

The noises that punctuated the young night are forever etched into my memory; the wonder of it all thickened the air around us.
Squeals of discovery and surprise, faint whispers of up-close and detailed instruction, and muffled giggles turned into unashamed belly laughter.

If only this moment could last forever; this moment where two kids, almost midway through their teen years, could forget about their everyday lives.
For those few moments, I caught a glimpse of innocence in these two kids, who hadn't experienced much innocence in their own lives for any prolonged amount of time.
For those few moments, the rest of the world didn't matter to them.
   Time stopped... watching and judging eyes stopped...  and so did their cares and worries about them.

It caught my breath to see this side of them; my role in their lives being very much of a confidant and counselor; very aware of the emerging adult-like issues they face every day that try to steal or conceal their childhood.

Whether they realized it or not, this moment was a treasured gift to me.

These moments don't happen very often, but when they do, they're a reminder of the potential for innocence to return at any moment.