Five Minute Friday: Morning

It's been a while since I've linked up with my friends at Five Minute Friday, but today's prompt was such a good one that I knew I had to write something on it. I don't exactly do the whole "five minutes" part of it as I'm not good at writing under that kind of pressure, but I love the prompts and reading all the various things people write about. The community are a really great bunch of folks too! If you're interested, check out the link above for more information and to link up with this week's prompt, click here. This week's prompt is MORNING. The following is my take on that prompt in a free verse poetic sort of style.

I am waiting for morning.
Every night, I wait for a day that has yet to come.
It isn't dawn or sunlight or birds tweeting their birdsong
Which makes me wait and yearn.
It is what a new morning signifies.
Hope.
Oh Hope, you temptress you.
I look for morning
Because I am promised that you are found in her embrace.
When the light filters through the trees and illumines the world
I am told that you are to be found amidst that wondrous moment.
So I wait.
And I wait.
I wait for morning.

I am waiting for morning.
Every night, I wait for the scent of dewy grass and cooler breezes.
It isn't the air so pure with freshness or quiet stillness
Which makes me wait and yearn.
It is that I may find new purpose in the morning.
Purpose.
Oh Purpose, how you seduce my senses.
I look for morning
Because I am promised that you are found in her embrace.
When all the world has just awoken and nothing yet dares to stir,
I am told that you are to be found amidst that wondrous moment.
So I wait.
And I wait.
I wait for morning.

I am waiting for morning.
This night, this endless, dark night keeps me waiting.
It is the raging tumult of rain and storms, howling wind, and impenetrable darkness
Which keeps me waiting and yearning.
It is these that pull me into hopelessness and worthlessness in this horrible night.
Hopelessness.
Oh Hopelessness, how you tear me apart again and again.
I look for morning
But you blind my eyes and tell me that I will never find morning again.
Worthlessness.
Oh Worthlessness, how you inject your venom like a drug into my heart.
I look for morning
But you deafen my ears and tell me that I am not worthy of seeing morning again.
In this onslaught and torrent
I am buffeted about, as weak as a thin piece of paper.
I am doomed to the night.

Morning with all her promises does not come.
Night and all his terrors abound.
But there are voices in the howling wind.
Voices that I strain to hear.
Voices that urge me to keep waiting for morning.
I am weak, like paper.
I am tired of waiting.
I cannot wait any longer and the night is fast stealing my voice.

Then strong arms hold me fast in the night.
Compassionate and understanding ears hear my wails of exhaustion.
My head and hands are lovingly tended with prayers and oil.
The voices walk with me through the night.
So I wait.
And wait.
And keep waiting.
And although it is still night
And dawn seems unimaginable and impossible,
These supports give me the strength
To keep waiting for morning.

A Few Links for Wednesday

I don't often pass along links, but I save them a lot. Facebook is a place where I find a number of them. If you're on Facebook, did you know that you can save links? It's super easy. Just click (or tap if you're on your phone) the little arrow in the upper right hand corner of the post containing the link and select "save link." It will add the link to your "Saved" page. Then you can go back and look at your links at your leisure. I use this all the time when I run across something that looks interesting, but I don't have time to really read it or look at it right that moment. You can also use this feature to save pictures, videos, and posts (yours or others' posts) to look at later. I love it for all those yummy looking recipe videos that are floating around on Facebook. Anyhow, here's a few links that I've found recently that I thought you might enjoy having a look at. It's a hodgepodge of stuff, but life is a bit of a hodgepodge as well, right?

1. Catholics routinely make the sign of the cross at the beginning and ending of prayers, during Mass, and as a part of other rituals and rites. If you don't understand what it means, it can seem an empty gesture, but the reality is that it's full of meaning. This short video (only 2 minutes, 35 seconds) explains three awesome things that this gesture means.

If you're interested in learning more, this article "21 Things We Do When We Make the Sign of the Cross" from Catholic Exchange is a great list of things that the sign means. Even if you aren't Catholic, I highly encourage you to give either the video or article a look. It's really interesting stuff and will give you a greater understanding of this beautiful gesture of Catholic faith.

2. Since I have quite a few friends who, like me, have kids, I've seen this a few times, but it is really neat. It's a video that shows you how to make your own watercolour paints! Seriously. That is SO cool! I haven't tried it yet, but I really want to give it a whirl and see how they come out. It looks really easy and involves ingredients that most folks already on hand in their kitchen. I could see this also being something fun for grandparents, aunts/uncles, babysitters, or teachers to try. Crafty!

Homemade Watercolors
Posted by Skillshare on Tuesday, February 2, 2016

3. I am an unabashed Anglophile and Hibernophile. This means I really, really love most things that are British or Irish. :) Tea is one of my favourite things and it is so perfectly British and Irish that it might as well be a part of their collective DNA. It's so ubiquitous that they sometimes don't even bother saying "tea" at all, but will instead say to you, "Let's have a cuppa. I'll put the kettle on." Many British offices have tea trollies which are a cart that's pushed around the office so you can grab a cuppa and a biscuit (that would be a cookie to us Americans) for your break or to enjoy at your desk. People drink it black, with lemon, white (with milk), and with or without sugar. A particularly British thing is what many Americans refer to as either "afternoon tea" or "high tea." These are used interchangeably, but did you know they're not necessarily the same thing? This brief article highlights the similarities and differences. A word of caution though: it's likely to make you crave a cuppa and some scones! Here's the Difference Between Afternoon Tea and High Tea!

4. Because I love a good recipe, how about some Samoa Brownies? Om, nom, nom, NOM!!! A friend posted this on FB and I had to save it. They look so delectable and like they'd be pretty easy to make. Here's a picture of the finished product, courtesy of the blog Incredible Recipes from Heaven:

And of course, the link to the recipe! The blog post has step by step pictures to make it easier to see what it should look like as you go alone. Mmmmm....

5. And finally, but, I think probably the most important link of all, this link of a letter "To the Husband With the Wife Who Has Depression" If you don't look at any of the other links on this page, please give this a read. It is written from the perspective of the wife struggling with depression to her husband. I could have written every single word. As I read it, I found myself getting teary-eyed and choked up. So much of the thoughts in it resonate with me and my experience. It expresses not only how hard things are for the wife, but what she needs from her husband in the way of support and understanding. One thing that is different from my experience is that Gray actually knows all of this. I am so incredibly grateful that he does, so I posted this to my FB timeline and tagged him. I also added the following note to him:

I love you so much for knowing all this, for holding me fast through the darkest hours, for helping me grow beyond the place where I stay silent all the time, for being my safe place to fall when I do find reaching out hard, for all the sacrifices you've made for me both big and small, and for loving me mind, body, and soul with the love of Christ. I could say all this a thousand times a day and it wouldn't be enough to adequately express how grateful I am that God joined us together or how deeply I love you. You are my heart and my beloved. Always. xoxoxo 

Hope you've enjoyed one or more of these links! I'll share a few more another time. Have a great Wednesday!

Ashes to Ashes: Entering the Desert

"The desert represents a stripping away of our attachments, so as to make the fundamental things appear. In the desert, there are no distractions or diversions or secondary matters. Everything is basic, necessary, and simple. Either one survives or one doesn’t. One finds in the desert strengths and weaknesses he never knew he had." 

~ Bishop Robert Barron

I have been living in the desert for a long time. As of this month, it's been three years.

Don't get me wrong. I don't actually live in a real physical desert. I live in a suburb in a house a good 1000 miles from the closest desert. The desert I've been living in is the desert of depression. The quote above comes from the first of Bishop Barron's daily Lenten email meditations. In it, he talks about how our Lenten journey of 40 days is a reflection of Christ's sojourn through the desert just prior to His earthly ministry. Having never been in an actual physical desert myself, I can only imagine what that feels like to your body to endure that kind of extreme climate. Emotionally though, I know exactly what it feels like. 

For me, depression takes a toll like that of the desert wilderness. I've struggled with depression for some 27 years now, but none of my sojourns through the desert have ever lasted more than a few months. When this current episode of depression began, it was in February of 2013 and I had no idea what lay in store for me. I had no reason to think that it would be any different from any episode before it.

What I didn't know is that my journey would take me into the darkest, most barren, most wild parts of the desert of depression. Those called apathy, anguish, betrayal, abandonment, heartbreak, numbness, bitterness, rage, despondence, despair, and death. I just had no clue at all that it would be so painful and go on for so long. 

Pain and suffering do, as Bishop Barron says, strip away everything else. You can't focus on anything but the most basic of things -- eating, sleeping, bathing, and sometimes, just the act of breathing in and out. When you're in this desert, it's not about looking at the scenery or making some great discovery, it's about finding your way from one oasis to the next so that you can survive. You may have come into the desert loaded down with many great concerns, but very quickly those fall away and you begin to realise what truly matters. You come to understand that your focus must be on survival. And the longer you journey through this desert, you do begin to see your strengths and your weaknesses. The desolation and difficulty starkly reveal everything in a way that is clearer and more refined than it would be in the normal world.

So what have I learned in the desert?

Well, one lesson I've been learning of late is that I need to stop telling myself that I must be strong and that hiding when I'm in pain -- rather than being vulnerable with others -- makes things easier for me and for others around me. The reality is that trying to be strong when I lack the capacity to do so and hiding from others when I'm hurting only makes things worse. For me, this is a weakness that the desert has revealed. I struggle with really trusting others because I've had my trust betrayed and violated so many times. That struggle with trust causes me to tell myself that it's better for me to just grit my teeth, be strong, just white knuckle it and hide until the darkest darkness is lighter. It's taken me most of this time to realise that this is a weakness, although thanks to Pendragon's help, I've been working on getting better at being vulnerable and telling others when I need help. 

I've also learned that one of my strengths is obedience, in particular, obedience to God. I would have never thought this about myself. It's not that I'm the rebellious sort or some kind of wild and crazy person who has no concern for rules or anything like that. It's just that I've never really thought of myself as "obedient." To be honest, this is the first year since this desert of depression began that I've even considered giving up or doing anything for Lent at all. For the last three Lents I've told myself, "I'm already giving up a lot with this depression. It's hard enough without having to give up or add something to my already really difficult life. Surely this is penitential enough." Part of the reason I felt like I was rebelling though was because I was angry at God. I still have some anger toward Him that I am trying to work out, but it's much better than it was just a year ago. But anger and even disinterest aren't the same thing as rebellion and I'm apparently much more obedient to Him and His will than I've ever given myself credit for being because I'm still here and I'm still following Him. I'm also trying to add the task this year of doing something spiritual each day. I think Bishop Barron's email meditations may be part of that, but I might do something else if the Holy Spirit nudges me.

The other thing that the desert has revealed to me is that when it comes to faith, feelings are no barometer of reality. To put it more simply, feelings are fickle and do not indicate in any way the presence (or lack thereof) of God in a person's life. In some ways, having an intense emotional experience of faith can give us a false sense of reality when it comes to who God is and whether or not He is present. When we "feel" God's presence or have a "sense" of Him being near, it can be an intense shock to the system spiritually when the circumstances of life or the actions of others blind those senses to a point where we can no longer connect with Him on an emotional level. We are left in the darkness of the desert, seemingly alone. But as scripture tells us in many places, He is always with us. That promise can be hard to swallow if the whole of your experience has been some kind of emotional connection to God and you are suddenly devoid of that connection. It may seem like a cruel kind of joke to be seemingly left all alone with your pain and suffering, but this desolation of the spirit is when we learn to connect to God in new ways, to find Him in the desert amidst the rubble of our pain, to see the tracks of His footsteps and the traces of His fingerprints etched in the aridness of our suffering and ache. 

This sojourn through the desert -- when we are forced to discard the unnecessary, have our weaknesses laid bare and our strengths revealed through fire, and scrabble to survive -- is a gift. If we are willing to see it, a gift that promises a greater strength of will, a greater understanding of ourselves, and a more mature, deeper faith in Christ. With that in mind, each year on Ash Wednesday, we enter into the desert with Christ to pray, to fast, to give of ourselves to others, and to allow the desert to reveal in us that which needs to be discarded so that we can survive and more closely follow Him.