A week of Wacky Wednesdays and a confession

I've had about a week of Wacky Wednesdays and its been truly beautiful. Jesus sent my family angels last week, and we've been very busy! Prayers have been answered all around me and my family in our little part of the universe, and we've been humbly and joyfully trying to keep up and praise God all along the way. More on my angels later. This morning, my spirit is on fire and I just have to get it all out before the fire dwindles inside of me from the trappings of the earthly responsibilities I am tied to no longer wait for my attention. 

I must begin with a confession. Earlier this year I stepped into the world of clinical depression after spending an entire Thursday night sobbing into the early hours of morning and walking into class the next day to a failing grade on an exam. That day I had the first panic attack I have had in almost a decade as I walked myself across campus to one of my most beloved professors and fell to pieces in her office. I knew what she would tell me but I needed to hear it: Its time to get help. So I did. 

The next few weeks were excruciating. I had to dig the semester out of the dumpster my depression had put it in academically, while digging open wounds too long neglected in the darkest caverns of my soul and getting used to the medications I was prescribed to manage the crippling anxiety attacks and crying jags. By the time the second half of the semester began, I was just beginning to feel like I was keeping my head above water and could breathe a little easier. However, a new class was beginning - Psychosocial Nursing. I was actually looking forward to this class because of my psychology background and the new dimension of the human condition the nursing perspective would bring. However, my first week of clinical rotations left me feeling very vulnerable. 

I could see the pain in the people's eyes vividly. Years of heartache and suffering showing lifetimes upon lifetimes on their faces and bodies, making them appear eons older than they really were. My heart bled for them as they shared the stories of their battles with addiction. Jesus showed me time and time again the frailty of the human soul. One of the counselors put it very clearly: Each one of us is one phone call, one event away from any one of these people. No one is immune. Pain can do this to anyone. 

I was assigned to the adolescent unit my first week. While my own battle with depression made me feel totally inadequate in any therapeutic role, with them I felt a little more confident in my abilities. At least I had some life experience behind me I could share with them, some wisdom I could offer from my own mistakes in addition to my textbook knowledge. 

I had a couple of amazing "God appointments" before I had to drop the class, but one young man stands out because of the wisdom he imparted to me that finally came to full recognition today. I will call him Carl. 

Carl is a 17 year old young man who has been in and out of the adolescent unit several times for suicide attempts. Carl is a cutter. He feels such immense amounts of pain he is unable and incapable of expressing verbally. Instead, he uses knives, razor blades, and the like to cut his own flesh to physically relieve the pain he feels on the inside. Carl is incredibly intelligent, well-spoken, and very well-read. You can see he has been gifted with creativity in his books, music, and clothing. I'm told each time he as come to the facility, he looks different - his hair, style of clothing, etc. Carl struggles with his identity, and feels misunderstood by all who surround him. 

My last day of clinical he made a powerful statement in group. "I wish people would realize that cutting is an addiction."

This morning, a cannon went off inside of me after reading the story behind a non-profit organization I found about a month ago. Read it here . I had read 1 Corinthians 13:1-3, which speaks of love being the center of all that we do, otherwise all our efforts mean nothing. They amount to nothing. Love is always the answer. 

Addiction sucks. I battled addiction to cigarettes, using them to "relax" me when I was upset. I still battle when things get tough. Its hard to pass the gas station on days when it seems Satan is throwing everything he's got at me and my joy. But my God is faithful. His love exemplified on the Cross is evidence of His unconditional love. My redemption through Jesus Christ is, too. 

I confess love has not always been at the center of my efforts. Lord, please forgive me of my self-love. Father, I love You. Show me how to love the unlovable. Show me how to write Jesus' love on the arms of the broken, bleeding, and desperate. In the powerful name of Jesus I pray, Amen.