Matthew 11:28-29

     The last few days have been quite a struggle for me. When the sun comes up, I feel such relief - I made it through the night. I don't sleep a lot anymore, I'm up all night. I used to be up all night because my daughter, Bee, needed me to turn her, or change her diaper, put more food in her bag, give her meds or a breathing treatment. I still do all of that stuff but after 20 years it is routine. Now, I don't sleep because the anxiety has my nerves stretched to the breaking point. Before the last few months I'd have said I was well acquainted with stress, anxiety and depression. Twenty years as my daughters' only caregiver has certainly given me more than a passing relationship with them. But I have discovered that I knew absolutely nothing about true depression and anxiety, until recently. I have been guilty of losing my patience with friends that seem to stay in their depressions, that stress out over simple things until they take to their couch in a fit of nerves. I've been guilty of saying inane things like "Start your day off with good thoughts" and "You have to choose to be happy" and other rather foolish things. I see a pattern in my life of judgement. I think that is one of the lessons I'm supposed to learn in this life: do not judge.
     In high school my best friend became pregnant. I didn't see her for several months and when I did, I was shocked that she had gained so much weight. It wasn't just pregnancy weight, it was what-have-I-done-to-my-life weight. I made some flippant comments about her weight and never knew, until much later, how much they hurt her. Fast forward a few years and I became pregnant with my first child. I was somewhere between 100 and 108 pounds when I became pregnant. In fact, I'd always been underweight, my whole life. But by the time I gave birth I had gained 100 pounds. The doctors couldn't figure out why, they ran every test, monitored my food. Now, I know why.
     A few years later when my son was about eight a friend was struggling with her teenage son. He had pushed her several times, screamed at her, had become belligerent and distant. My son and I spent all of our time together talking, playing games, reading together. We were very close. I offered my friend advice that was laced with criticism about her son and his behavior. I was certain that my son would not behave that way as a teenager and I thought I knew exactly what she should do. Fast forward eight years and my son is a moody teenager that has, occasionally, yelled at me, He slams doors, stays in his room most of the time and rarely speaks to me. He's a good kid going through a rough time.
     A few years later I have a couple of friends that deal with anxiety and depression. While I have always tried to be supportive, send cards, call, check up on them, I've always been right there with the silly platitudes that I thought were so helpful, so spot on. I did not understand true depression and anxiety, I did not understand what it feels like inside. How you just can't stand being inside your own head anymore. How you try, you do, you surround yourself with "happy" things, you get up and try to do all the positive things that should make the days and nights better . .  but they don't. And then you discover how very alone you are in your depression and anxiety, and just how much those silly comments hurt, how they leave you alone in your darkness and throw in guilt for good measure. Mostly, I have found that not only have my friends left me in my darkness but they trivialize it. Oh, don't get me wrong, they are good women. But they make some truly devastating comments, as I did in the past.
     Tonight I sat here drinking tea, looking at the clock, praying for the sun to come up, that I could get through another long night. I had some of those "why me" moments. I thought about a Christian radio program I heard once. A woman remarked to her father that she found his ability to sympathize with his congregation was remarkable, and that she wished she could connect with others that way. She admitted that she often lost patience with people, could not step into their shoes and understand their pain. Then one day she became ill. She was, eventually, diagnosed with a terrible illness that would only grow worse as time went on. On the day of the radio broadcast she said that God had answered her request to be more like her father. She found that her ability to connect, her compassion for others, had grown. During my long night tonight I thought about that, and hoped that one day I could help others, that my struggles have a purpose. Because in this darkness I sometimes have such moments of clarity and I realize that my life is so pointless, that time is a heavy burden, that life is monotonous. No, those things are not true, but they feel so true when I'm on my knees and know that I can't hold on much longer.
     Every single day I read Matthew 11: 28-29. I'm so grateful that Jesus understood how tiring living can be. That everything can weigh you down so much that you can't move another step forward. I don't like to think about what happened to Jesus that gave Him such insight but I am so grateful He made a point to encourage us and give us hope, to do the one thing it seems no one else can do - sit in the dark with us so that we are not alone.

Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. 

     The Great Physician, offering healing to broken souls.