I'm not going to lie, this week was harder, and next week looks even worse.  But Thursday was a bright spot for me.

I went to yoga for the first time this year.  The New Years' Resolutioners clogging up the yoga room for the first couple months of every year make it way less fun, so I stayed away completely until this week.  I was surprised by how much peace and relief I got from practicing again.  I wasn't aware of how much my body and mind missed yoga.

Thursday nights TJ and I go to sing with the St. George Chamber Singers.  Usually rehearsals are fun, but we're getting closer to our concert date and the pieces are really starting to come together. Chamber music feels like heaven when it's done right, and we did a lot right this week.  Very healing and soothing to my soul.

Several loving friends have reached out this week with love and prayers.  Thank you so much.

I try to make this a whine-free zone, but today I just need to share where I'm at.

My depression has gone from manageable to unmanageable.  My tricks and hacks and boosts are not getting me above water anymore.  My eyelids are swollen from crying all the time.  I can't sleep.  I can't focus.

I'm going in to see a good therapist sometime soon, to help me manage grief over my recent loss and the attending feelings of stress, anger, and despair.  It feels like a step back, since I felt I graduated from therapy about ten years ago, having sorted out all my negative patterns and beliefs.  And I'm not excited about the work ahead.  Cognitive therapy is a lot like physical therapy after a traumatic injury.  You have to go through a lot of extra pain to ensure proper and permanent healing.

But I know it's a step forward.  I choose healing and hope.  I choose not to hide my condition and let it fester.  I have learned from experience that pain, like Lanston Hughes' "dream deferred," can be a dangerous thing:

What happens to a dream deferred? 

Does it dry up
like a raisin in the sun?
Or fester like a sore--
And then run?
Does it stink like rotten meat?
Or crust and sugar over--
like a syrupy sweet?
Maybe it just sags
like a heavy load
or does it explode?

If you can spare a moment, please pray for me and my loved ones.  And let me know when I can return the favor.  

Blogging my Way Whole

Guys!  My blog just topped 10,000 views, most of them in the past year!

Some of you big-time bloggers out there will laugh, but I need you to keep in mind that I'm not a big-time blogger.  A year ago I was lucky to get one or two views per month.

I felt inspired to take my blog public so that I could use it to share my testimony and my experiences. I would still blog about my family and my faith, but I started to be more open about my struggle with depression. I wanted to liberate others to talk about the battles they fight and I wanted to give them support and hopefully some practical advice.

Mostly I wanted to give credit where it's due.  My Heavenly Father has helped me to rise above my disease in very real ways in the past ten years, and I wanted to share that wonder and that hope.  I just didn't know it was part of his plan to use this blog to help me yet again.

I began by writing about how my faith and my depression coexist in He Gives Me Hope.  I was blown away that people liked what they read and wanted to share it.  It gave me so much joy that my miserable experiences could be turned into blessings for others.  I kept writing.

Surprisingly, opening up about my condition has really alleviated my symptoms.  I think this is because this blog has been an opportunity for me to serve and also to create.

In October 2008, I found myself lucky enough to be present in the conference center in Salt Lake City for the Women's Session of General Conference.  I will never forget the power of Dieter F. Uchtdorf's message, "Happiness, Your Heritage." He taught sisters that we will have greater joy if we strive to serve every day and create every day.

"The desire to create is one of the deepest yearnings of the human soul.  No matter our talents, education, backgrounds, or abilities, we each have an inherent wish to create something that did not exist before... 

Creation brings deep satisfaction and fulfillment.  We develop ourselves and others when we take unorganized matter into our hands and mold it into something of beauty... 

You may think you don't have talents, but that is a false assumption, for we all have talents and gifts, every one of us.  The bounds of creativity extend far beyond the limits of a canvas or a sheet of paper and do not require a brush, a pen, or the keys of a piano. Creation means bringing into existence something that did not exist before--colorful gardens, harmonious homes, family memories, flowing laughter."

Okay, I'm in danger of quoting the whole talk right here, so I'll stop.  But the powerful impression Elder Uchtdorf left upon me that day paved the way for this blog.  And this blog has paved the way for deep joy for me.

Journaling is one of the most commonly recommended practices for healing and mental health, but writing a private journal has never been a joyful process for me.  My private journal entries are dull and unpolished.  But knowing that loved ones and even strangers are reading this blog impels me to think more critically, to tap into my creative self, and especially to do the work to get my real personality onto the page.  It is a joy to craft a funny phrase or record a great story in the hope that it can make someone smile.

The joy of creative writing has been the hook that motivated me to write about my experiences.  And writing about my experiences has brought me great peace and healing.  I have felt the Spirit testify to me of my divine worth, of my Father in Heaven's love for me, and of the sanctity of my life.  I have felt gratitude for the struggles that have humbled me and made me seek out my Savior.  And as I have revisited painful memories with the lens of faith, I have been able to see that He never deserted me. That is healing.  And it could not have happened without you, my friends.

My lonely road is now packed with fellow travelers, arms linked together.  Acquaintances who've read the things of my heart have in turn shared the things of their hearts, and now we are acquaintances no longer--we are sisters.  You are the greatest gift this blog has given me.  Thanks for bringing me hope, healing and joy by being a part of this journey.

To celebrate the blessing this blog has been in my life and hopefully in yours, I've added a couple of gadgets to the left.  Check out my most popular posts, and some of the ones that are popular in my own brain.  ;)  And don't forget to share, it seriously makes my day. 

A Grief Observed

Five weeks ago today I walked in the door after a long meeting at church, heard the worst news of my life, and sobbed my heart out for what turned out to be almost two solid weeks.

Someone very close and very dear to TJ and me has lost his faith--is deep in the grip of pornography addiction--has walked away from his wife and children--and seems to me a only a shell of the man I've known and loved for years.  And the shock could not have been greater, because for all I knew he was fine.  I could not have been more grieved or saddened if he had suddenly died.

If he were to read this, I think he might take offense to that last bit.  But as heart-breaking as it would have been to lose him to death, in that case I would have the comfort of knowing he died in the Lord--I would feel that he still belonged to me in a way.  No such comfort has borne me up in the past five weeks.  He seems separated from me in a way that I never thought possible.

I have been holding off on this blog post because I wasn't sure what to say, and I'm still not.  But I am a compulsive truth-teller, an over-sharer.  And I feel a little bit hypocritical to post happy, smiling pictures here and not tell you the whole truth.  My heart is breaking.

My Savior is at work here, I am sure, saving my loved one.  I have faith that someday he will choose to come back to the warmth and light of the gospel, and I fervently hope that he will find healing from his addiction.  But in the meantime, I am surrounded by broken hearts.  We are all slogging through the grieving process.  Denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance are hats I seem to alternate between several times a day.  But the Savior is not only working to save our lost one.  He is also working on us.  He is purifying us, giving us more compassion, growing our faith in him.  And He is helping us to bear it.

My faith in God is stronger today than it was a month ago.  Every word of every talk, lesson, and song rings with truth, and I know that my merciful God is using this for my good. I would not have chosen this, not in a million years.  And I'm still not very grateful.  But God is good.  I can trust Him as we walks me through this wilderness--just as I have before--He has never steered me wrong before.

Give Your Gift

I had a bit of a meltdown this weekend.  And it wasn't the meltdown you might expect from the mother of a large family in the middle of December.

No, I wasn't stressed about shopping expeditions, elf-on-the-shelf exploits, baking marathons, or those endless Pinterest Christmas bucket lists, each complete with a scripture, song, craft, recipe, activity and service project for every day of December.

I was stressed about making our family's celebration more Christ-centered.  

It's easy enough to minimize the world's influence at Christmastime, especially if you were raised right--and I was.  We're pretty low-key about presents, decorations, and activities.  We pare down to the basics so we can be financially, emotionally and physically healthy enough to actually enjoy the celebrations we have together.   

But if you're a mom who's trying hard to raise children up to the Lord, it can be really hard to feel like you're doing enough at Christmas.  

Every time President Monson takes the stand, I am inspired by his encouragement to reach out and bless others.  He is a walking example of the power of service, and especially this time of year, I long to do more.  I hear stories of other mothers who have beautiful family Christmas traditions centered on service and on Jesus Christ, and I think, what's wrong with me?

There are homeless people who need coats.  There are lonely people to visit on every street in town. There are people grieving the loss of loved ones to be hugged.  There are soup pantry shelves to be stocked.  

What is wrong with me, that I can't get my act together honor the Savior by serving his children?

It is strange that all the well-intentioned and truly wise advice to us moms about slowing down and enjoying the true meaning of Christmas can actually make us feel worse if we're not careful.  

Our Savior was the only perfect mortal to walk the earth, and he came to bring light.  He came to lift burdens, not add to them.  Are we mothers allowing Satan to twist the joyful celebration of Christ's grace into a series of hoops to jump through?  Even if we have avoided the common traps and trappings of commercialization and frenzied celebration--we can still miss the mark if we're focused on what we're not doing.  Whether we're comparing our Christmas decor or our Christmas devotions to what the neighbors have done--comparison hurts.  

But today the Savior opened my eyes a little bit, and I was allowed to see that I am not failing Christmas.  I am giving the gifts that are mine to give.  

They are small.  And I've given them for so many years in a row, that I've come to feel that they don't even really count.  But they are my gifts.  And these gifts I give to others are really my gifts to the Savior.

Today I smiled big at a young friend walking into the church, and I felt the Lord's approbation.  It's something I do all the time when I see someone who might be discouraged.  It's small, but it counts. Today I bore my testimony of the Savior to twenty kids.  It's something I do most weeks of the year, so it wasn't scary.  Today I took my kids caroling at a rehabilitation center.  It's something my parents did with me, so it comes very easily and it's something I enjoy. 

I wonder how many other moms out there struggle to feel they're doing enough at Christmas?  What if we all just enjoyed what we already do?

Some of us have the gift of baking treats for neighbors.  Some of us have the gift of helping with toy drives.  Some of us have the gift of quietly lifting and serving those who are struggling.  Some of us have the gift of smiles and jokes for the discouraged.  Some of us have the gift of snuggling with kiddos and watching Christmas movies.  Some of us have the gift of sending beautiful Christmas with heartfelt notes of love and testimony.

There are enough meaningful, joyful, uplifting, testimony-building, Christ-centered traditions out there to drive any godly woman out of her mind if she tries to do even a fraction of them.  We must reach for something better.  We must reach for the gifts that are ours to give, and give them in full confidence that the Savior receives them in the spirit we give them.  

When we give our whole hearts to Him, it is always enough.  So don't give someone else's gift.  Give your gift.

(Special thanks to TJ for the graphic.  Special thanks to Georgia for the deep thoughts.  And special thanks to them both for always being willing to listen to me cry.  I feel much better now.)

Teaching From Rest

I have the haziest memory of this book being prescribed to me by a loving friend, months ago. Now I don't even remember who it was that recommended it, (THANK YOU, anonymous friend) but thankfully the title of the book kicked around in my skull for long enough that I was able to find it when I needed it.  

I finally read it this week and wish so much that I had read it my very first year of home schooling.  It is inspired and powerful and it has brought me a great deal of hope and joy already.

I consider myself really good at simplifying, so a lot of the practical elements of this book were refreshers for me.  But at the core of Sarah's writing is one of the most honest and relatable discourses on grace I've ever read.  

"Rest" is the place between anxiety and neglect.  Sarah teaches that we all tend toward one side or another of rest most of the time.  Sometimes we even swing back and forth.  I spend most of my time on the anxious side.  But when we can still the pendulum on our trust in the Savior we are truly at rest.  

"After all, our job is not to be successful--success itself is entirely beside the point.  It's faithfulness that He wants.  God is good!  He isn't going to let us pour out our hearts for our children only to be left choking on the dust of our mistakes...The heart of this book is about remembering what our true task really is and then throwing ourselves in completely. Giving our all.  The raising of children, the teaching of truth, the sharing of life, the nourishing of imagination, the cultivating of wisdom: These are all his anyway; we are merely His servants." 

Oh, it is liberating to remember who we are and whose we are, and to remember that we are only helpers in God's great work.  It frees me up to enjoy the work more and worry over it less.  

"You are where you are (which is likely to be exactly where God wants you).  So work hard every day.  Value academic work because nurturing the intellect is part of what makes us fully human, but don't elevate it beyond its place.  There are relationships to cultivate, books to read, oceans to swim in, forts to build, toilets to scrub, bills to pay, paintings to create, dinners to make.  This is why we homeschool--because we want to engage in a full-to-bursting life."

 "Lavish" is a word Sarah uses over and over to describe the way a home school mother teaches, loves, and listens.  I have been working this week on loving lavishly in my home.  It is slow, satisfying work.  I love thinking about what a great privilege it is for me to be with the people I love all day every day.  Who gets that?  When I am miserly with my time and my love, my work is tedious and discouraging.  But this week, I've had a few magical moments of gratitude--of living truly in the moment.  I want to love lavishly every day of my life.

And one last, lovely thought from this book that I will treasure: a woman who embraces her unique strengths and teaching style is a woman who enjoys her work, and a woman who enjoys her work has a happy family.  I have often tried to do another woman's version of home school. It is unnatural, stressful, and no fun for me or the kids.  But when I think about the things that I absolutely love and do those with the kids, we have a great time.  So the schedule includes necessaries like math and spelling--yes--but it also honors my love of reading and conversation with a 45-minute chunk for studying the classics together.  And that bright spot of teaching from my strength makes all the other hard work worth it.  

There is simply too much beautiful, simple wisdom bound up in this surprisingly thin volume--you've got to read it for yourself.  Or buy it for that wonderful woman on your list who could use a little rest.    You can find more of Sarah's thinking at amongstlovelythings.com.

Today my wonderful mom shared with me a prompting she had to spend this week praying only with messages of gratitude. This sounded like just what the doctor ordered for me, too.  So I'm going to challenge myself not to ask anything of the Lord this week, but only to give thanks.  I am excited for how this will shift my focus and fill me with the pure peace that gratitude brings.