Like a Submissive Child

"Those who submit like a child do it because they know that the Father wants only the happiness of His children and that only He knows the way. That is the testimony we must have to keep praying like a submissive child, in the good times as well as the times of trouble.

"With that faith, we will be able to pray for what we want and appreciate whatever we get."

--Elder Henry B. Eyring of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles in Conference Report, October 2001 or Ensign November 2001

With thanks to Collin Key for sharing this photo on flickr.

The Experience of Grief

Today is the anniversary of the birth, and of the death, of Kristy Palizzi Ragsdale. As the most understanding of friends, her mother, Ann, has helped me through the many bouts of depression which I have endured over the years. She continues to be an example of wisdom and strength to me and to so many others. Here is her latest entry from Kristy's memorial blog. Perhaps you will be blessed today by her strength and wisdom as I have so often been.

The photograph is from www.heraldextra.com, where you can read more about Kristy's story.

Beauty in the Deep

"For thou hadst cast me into the deep,
in the midst of the seas; and the floods compassed me about:
all thy billows and thy waves passed over me.

Then I said, I am cast out of thy sight; yet I will look again toward thy holy temple.

The waters compassed me about, even to the soul:
the depth closed me round about,
the weeds were wrapped about my head.

I went down to the bottoms of the mountains;
the earth with her bars was about me for ever:
yet hast thou brought up my life from corruption, O Lord my God."

Jonah 2: 3-6

Galapagos from Darek Sepiolo on Vimeo.

A Permanent Condition?

diamonds are 4ever, but they make me cry
Originally uploaded by bye bye オモイデ

Thank you to bye-bye-omoide for sharing this picture on Flickr.

I am in that place where I try to decide if it is better to fight my illness or to submit to it and just adjust. I look back over this blog, and see the many times I thought that healing was beginning, when it wasn't. Small improvements have come, but much remains the same as when this all began.

I am reminded of this passage from Mosiah 24:

14 And I will also ease the burdens which are put upon your shoulders, that even you cannot feel them upon your backs, even while you are in bondage; and this will I do that ye may stand as witnesses for me hereafter, and that ye may know of a surety that I, the Lord God, do visit my people in their afflictions.
15 And now it came to pass that the burdens which were laid upon Alma and his brethren were made light; yea, the Lord did strengthen them that they could bear up their burdens with ease, and they did submit cheerfully and with patience to all the will of the Lord.

These people were promised deliverance, and it came to them, in time. I know that deliverance will come to me, as well. I just don't know when, or if it will be in this life, or the next.

In the mean time, I do my best to "submit cheerfully and with patience to all the will of the Lord."

It seems strange to talk about being cheerful when my problem is unrelenting depression, but, somehow, it resonates. In the area of trusting in the wisdom of the Lord in all of this, I do, somehow, feel a measure of good cheer.

I believe that, when all is said and done, this is a time to submit and keep on pressing forward in spite of burdens. The Lord is, indeed, doing great things to make my burdens lighter, through a loving family most of all. Even though these present burdens are not yet removed from my shoulders, He is sustaining me.

I feel His love and approval every day, and that makes all the difference.

Beginning to Bloom?

Tomorrow
Originally uploaded by love_child_kyoto

Like any illness, depression (whether unipolar or bipolar) heals incrementally, and improvement is measured in small triumphs. When you have a bad case of the flu, you are encouraged when the day comes that you are able--finally--to sip a cup of broth and not have it come back up again, to speak without your throat burning, to simply move about the room unattended.

I had a few small triumphs yesterday. I took a ride in the car. I entered a restaurant and ordered and paid for food. I went grocery shopping (to two stores!) with my husband. Like with any illness, I need to be cautious not to "overdo" and suffer a relapse of symptoms. But I do have hope. And I still feel well today (although I am not ready for any more such adventures for a while).

I believe that this third antidepressant may be helping. I have no doubt that calling upon our Father is helping, as well. Thank you to those who love me for your prayers in my behalf. I have hope--albeit a cautious one-- that I am beginning to open again.

(Click on the photo for credits.)

Succor

I was taught long ago that the meaning of the word succor is "to run to." Later on, I learned that the root from which our English succor comes means not only that, but "to go beneath, run to help." As I learned this more specific meaning of the term, I immediately appreciated the imagery of being held up from underneath and kept from falling.

I had a tangible experience with being succored in this way some years ago. As part of a group of adults on a wilderness trek, I participated in an activity which resulted in me finding myself in a precarious situation.

The trek in which I was involved was organized as a series of games and activities meant to engender cooperative fellowship and greater self-awareness. The assigned tasks which my group were asked to undertake were approached seriously and performed with exactness. The particular activity which I mentioned above involved transferring each member of the group across a low area of ground which was designated as a pit of fire. We were to imagine that the ground over which we were crossing was molten lava or some equivalent danger, so that we must absolutely not touch down under any circumstances.

At some point in this exercise, a cable was stretched across the dry riverbed which served as our fiery hollow, and I volunteered to made my way across on it and perform the task which was needed on the other side in order to enable my companions to also cross over. I began my mission with enthusiasm, my arms and legs wrapped around the wire, inching along bit by bit. Tiring quickly as I moved along, however, as I neared the midway point of my journey I realized that I was in serious trouble. It was clear to me that I did not have enough strength to move myself all the way across the abyss. Halfway across, suspended in the air, my arms had become so weakened by my previous efforts that it was all I could do to barely hold on. I was utterly incapable of moving forward or backward to save myself.

As the group called out expressions of encouragement to me from their place on the riverbank, I whimpered back, "I can't move anymore. I'm not strong enough. I can't go on." I wrapped my worn out arms and legs as tightly as I could and shut my eyes. My mind was devoid of any possible solution. I felt helpless and alone, with no hope for pulling myself out of the situation.

Suddenly, I felt large hands and strong arms lifting me down from the air. One of the group had plunged into the pit to rescue me. He was a tall man, the largest of the party, who had been so quiet that he was a stranger to me in spite of our many hours together. As he set me down on firm ground, he humbly turned to the cheering crowd on the banks and quietly stated, "Well, I couldn't just let her fall."

I learned that day what it truly means to be succored.

I learned again yesterday about the term. My visit to the psychiatrist two days ago left me discouraged and emotionally drained. His responses to my needs were to do more of the same things I have been doing and then some. I was to switch, once again, my antidepressant. I was to visit one doctor for one problem and another for another, and a third for something else again. I was to apply more time to the process and continue the plodding course I have been so long experiencing.

My depressed state plunged as low as it had ever been. By the time I got home I was overwhelmed and incapable of any further forward movement. Exhausted and spent, I was immobilized and barely holding on, just as when I was out on that cable. Again there seemed to be no way out for me, but this time it was no game. The fiery emotional pit looming under me was real. I longed for someone who could run to me and go beneath me and hold me up and help me out. I needed to be truly succored.

Yesterday, the help came. As I sensed the reality of friends on the banks cheering me on through their prayers in my behalf, I simultaneously experienced family members gathering to offer the succor I craved. Probing conversations ensued, ideas came forth, new hope was aroused. As the day ended, I felt impressed to employ an easily manageable change of focus as I fish for answers to my problems, much like simply moving my nets from one side of my boat to the other (see John 21:3-6).

I believe that the Priesthood Blessing I recently received is taking effect, that the prayers of kind and caring friends are being answered, that family love and inspiration are exerting their power. I feel that stronger arms are carrying me from a precarious place. I know that my Savior is near me and empathizes with my plight. I know that I am being succored.

I have hope again for brimming nets and celebratory times. Thank you to all of you who have contributed to this rescue. I believe that prayers have been heard and answered.

Thank you to this photographer for the picture of the support beam.