I am not currently wrestling with mental illness, though I am VERY close to folks who are. This is a wonderful essay on what it's like to love someone who wrestles with it constantly. It's quite long, but very good.
So, after the wet and heavy snow last night, I'm not eager to get on the highway. The roads in town are frighteningly slick, and I'm waiting until tomorrow morning to load up and get out of Dodge. That means I have one more alone night before getting to Billings to scoop up my son and get filled up on all the Blake kisses. I've nearly run out!
Thankfully, the pain I've experienced with being alone has lessened quite a bit, or at least comes in smaller, shorter waves. Something about "getting it out" is working...that, or my reluctance to pray is working. Prayer really wracked me emotionally, and while it could be good, it was also exhausting. I've been keeping my prayer time MUCH shorter as a result.
This Christmas, I know several people who are not able to simply enjoy the season, for one reason or another. It's as though they still see the twinkling lights and hear cheerful voices, but it's through a grey fog. My prayer for those people - my people - those waiting on answers slow in coming, those alone and hurting - my prayer is for the grace and peace of God to envelope them like a mother holding her child. That they would lean into Him as he wipes away their tears and reassures them of His abiding love.
The Lord your God is with you,
He is mighty to save.
He will take great delight in you;
He will quiet you with His love;
He will rejoice over you with singing.