For the joy-less

I went to a women's conference a couple years ago and I remember the speaker having us chant the mantra that we will choose joy...and to go forth.  After I left and I was digesting these words with all my friends in the car, something felt funny, and wasn't right.  How do you just choose joy?  Like you're ordering a big mac, or an ice cream sundae with a cherry on top.  My friend confided in me that she had been in a deep depression and couldn't just get out of it.  How do you get out of it?  That slump.  That deep dark hole when the circumstances for sure, aren't changing.  I started thinking, pondering about my own life. 

I have struggled with deep deep depression, to the point of having to be picked up off my bed, packed up, and carried home by my mother. I slept nights with music playing and I slept the day away wishing it were night.  I came out of my room to eat fruit, maybe. 

I have experienced heartbreak like no other, having a relationship for many many years and having to let go of him...forever.  I felt like I would be ripped in half or my heart would literally fall out of its chest.  It scarred me so deeply that I still think about it and dream about it to this day....15 years later.

I cried tears of pain as I watched my friend's 3 year old girl laugh and chase  my 4 year old boy around the cupcake store, mourning the loss of what would never be between my son and my disabled daughter, and also between my friend's daughter and my own daughter who were previously and subconsciously labeled "best friends" in the womb. 

I was going through a near nervous breakdown when I was 6 months pregnant with my third child.  My back was thrown out and I couldn't lift June anymore.  The entire contents of my kitchen was strewn about my house as they zipped up my kitchen, and labeled it a toxic wasteland.  We were also in financial crisis.  Our renter hadn't paid us in 10 months.  My sweet sister came and got my kids from me for two weeks.  I felt like I was giving them up for adoption. 

I have hated my own husband to the point of wishing we had never gotten married.  It was all a big mistake.  I cried myself to sleep with my Bible open on my chest hoping that somehow God's word would get through to my inner core.

But somehow I was supposed to choose joy in these circumstances.  Christians had been chanting it for years, since I was a child.  Well, through this process of grieving losses, trying to forget what could've beens and managing my own seratonin levels, I figured out something.

Joy chose me.  It was a gift.

In all those instances where I was able to walk away with joy in my heart, there were deep deep moments of grieving.  Some events were years, others were days, but the thing that kept me going was not that I had chosen joy, but rather I had put my hope in a God who would grant peace for the moment and for sure someday lift me up out of the dark, slimy pit. The only choosing I did was to not put my hope in the unhappy situation changing. 

And God has been faithful every single time.
He gives JOY, not necessarily immediately, but ultimately.

"Though you have made me see troubles, many and bitter, you will restore my life again; from the depths of the earth you will again bring me up.  You will increase my honor and comfort me once again." Psalm 71:20-21

"Weeping may tarry for the night, but joy comes in the morning." Psalm 30:5b



And it washes over us unexpectedly.

Retreating

I am a fairly organized person, or at least I thought I was until the other day when I went to bring my son's medical form to the doctor's office so they could fill it out stating that he has had his appropriate immunizations and is all set for Kindergarten.  The receptionist looked at me and said, "Ma'am, we can't fill this out because your son never had his five year old check-up."  What?  There must be something wrong with their computer.  My son is 5 and 3/4.  He had his shots months ago, I remember. Doesn't the whole office remember? He screamed so loud we had two nurses holding his limbs down. "Please check your files. I am positive he has had his check-up."  I never miss appointments.  She checked again and reiterated what I already heard.  Embarrassingly, she set up an emergency appointment and we are set to take him there on Monday. 

So I guess you could say I am forgetting things.  I am a little bit not like myself.  That's what happens when you travel the whole summer.  I actually feel refreshed and revitalized after last week and I wanted to share with you about how we were ministered to last week.  I can't tell you how important this was for us.  Let me start off by saying that if you have a family with typical children, this vacation will not likely sound exciting to you at all.  But if you are a family with disability, please read on.  You need to go there, to sign up tonight.

A few months ago, we learned about the Joni and Freinds Family Retreat at a FIN conference here in Hampton Roads.  It was a retreat for families who had disability and was relatively inexpensive and included room, food and many other things which I will explain.  We didn't really know what to expect, but we signed up anyway, thinking it sounded pretty neat.

The location of this specific retreat was in Flat Rock, North Carolina at a Retreat Center called Bonclarken I and it was in the beautiful mountains on a lake.  We drove up with our van and they were cheering us up the driveway, calling us by name.  As we got out of our van, three angelic women appeared and said, "We are here to help you."  These women were STM's (short term missionaries) and each one of them was prayerfully assigned to each one of my children.  These women were excited to be there, completely over-qualified and ready to serve us in any way, shape or form.  I literally burst into tears and couldn't stop crying tears of joy as they led me through registration.  I almost felt naked not having to look after babies while signing papers and filling out forms.  We were dear friends by dinner.

The mornings were spent with the children in programs specifically designed for them.  June was in a "quiet" program and she did all sorts of therapeutic things, like run her hands through rice/noodles and swing, listening to music. Rich and I listened to a speaker, worshiped and then met in small groups with other people who had incredble stories to tell. The afternoons were spent together as a family with or without the STM's.  Charlotte always napped and was watched by her STM, but we were able to do zip lining, June did horseback riding and James did archery.  There was also nightly programming, but our kids had a hard time lasting that long and we were usually back to the hotel by then.

I highly recommend this retreat to anyone who has disability in the family (there are several locations across US).  It was so unique being able to eat dinner together in a cafeteria where there were wheelchairs and people spilling things, and strange noises.  The judgment was erased.  Everyone was free to be themselves.  No one stared at my child unless to say she was adorable.