This morning, Pastor Tom (a dear friend who also did our premarital counseling and married us) pulled me aside before church and asked how I was, I assume because he read my blog. I said I was "okay" and assured him that nothing had happened to bring on this latest depression, and that things were fine between Joe and me. He said, "I appreciate how open you are" and I said, in all sincerity, "If I am open with people, then they can help me." This has been a most profound idea to me all day.
I cried a lot last night, and I cried this morning before, on the way to, and during church. All through the service I cried; I used up the Kleenex in my purse. I barely mouthed the words to songs. Whenever we prayed my mind was just one big "UGH" to God.
Yet Joe had the day off, and he never stopped holding my hand, tightly. He hugged me and constantly looked over at me to see if I was okay. Even though I couldn't stop crying, I felt so safe and cared for. If he hadn't been with me, I wouldn't have been able to cry. When we got home he took a long nap with me, even though he doesn't like to nap. He just knows that I sleep better when he's next to me. (Our cat decided to sleep with us too, which is why I put up this photo. It doesn't look exactly like us, and it was too hot to snuggle, but our nap was as peaceful as that picture.)
The offertory music in church was heavenly this morning. Performed with two violins and guitar by three talented sisters, it was instrumental, no words - but it spoke to me more than any hymn or sermon was able to today. Sometimes I experience God through teaching of his word. Today was a day I could only experience him through beauty.
My wedding ring nearly blinded me with sparkliness from the overhead lights in the sanctuary. I couldn't help admiring it; this shining jewel was on me. And it marked me as Joe's beloved. And in itself, it was beautiful. And it was on me. Me with the red nose and bloodshot eyes and snotty Kleenex in my purse.
We invited my sister-in-law, Angela, over for lunch, with the fair warning that the kitchen was a mess. While I made sandwiches, she did the dishes and scrubbed the counters. Normally I'd feel guilty for letting someone else do my job. But this time, I had asked for help, so it was different.
The outpouring of love from everyone who read my plea was most beautiful. Even though I didn't respond right away, it gave me something concrete to read over and over. Juliana, Mary, becca, Dave, Charlyn, and Sue, and Tom, and more to come I'm sure - I can never give you as much appreciation as you deserve for your kind words. I asked for help and I got it. Now I know where God is when I'm depressed: he's in you.
Even if this episode is over tomorrow; even if it continues for months, let me never forget that in order to receive help, I must ask for it. The fact that I feel good enough to type now is really something. Thank you, thank you for your help and understanding and prayers.
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