My beautiful Acacia

Because it's important not to just write about the struggle, but also the resolution. Or perhaps in this case I should say the miraculous intersection of my distorted view of God and the end of myself.

So, you read that I was dealing with depression in the last post. The week continued to get worse and worse at work, and finally came the weekend. I had a women's retreat planned for that weekend, and what timing. God has always shown up at that retreat for me in significant ways, which I'm super grateful for. So I share my story in the name of hope. I realize that not everyone believes in a higher power, and that's ok. But everyone has struggled with something in life--the one thing we have in common--our struggle. The beauty I think in this story is the juxtaposition of hopelessness that is met with fullness and renewed life.

I was a mess. I could tell from the outside that people close to me were worried about me just based on how I looked. I was a shell of a person, walking around and getting next to nothing accomplished. Unless you count panic attacks. Those I was racking up at a record pace. I packed my bag and headed to Murrieta Hot Springs with my friend Teri. I was pretty sarcastic about what was going on in my life. People asked me how I was and I almost instantly broke down crying each time. I explained to one friend that my life is sort of like a very very old dam with many holes and increased water volume and pressure behind the structure. I have all these coping mechanisms to patch up the dam holes...but there are so many holes, and the whole structure was about to come crashing down. Friday I barely kept myself together, and in the process let a bunch of people know that I was not well. Sort of like being the sickly green person in a group, and saying, "Just so you know, I'm not feeling so great." I mean, when you're sick, it's obvious. And my soul was so sick. Saturday rolled around and I was already becoming impatient with God. I felt like my life is always about giving to others, and when nothing seemed to "happen" quickly to change my circumstances, the anxiety began to creep in, the resentment began to peek around the corner. What if nothing happens at this retreat?...What if I have to stay like this for a long long time?...What if...the possibilities were endless. I stopped singing the words to worship songs--a real physical representation of what was going on inside--I was closing God out, and fast. Another coping mechanism. I don't want to be disappointed again. I can take care of myself. I have before, I will again. I can do this. It was announced in the morning that later that afternoon Spiritual Direction spots would be available for those interested. But there were only 20 spots available and over 80 women. I teased my friends and said, "I'm going to wait at the back of the room (where the sign up sheet was going to be posted) until they post the sign up sheet. I will be the first on the list" A friend next to me said, "The Kingdom of God is for the forceful. Get what you need." I can be forceful, and I had every intent to push others out of the way to speak to a Spiritual Director. Right after the announcement we broke into small groups, and I was facilitating. By the time my group had finished, I hurried to the back table and saw every single spot full. PANIC. PANIC...No. I'm going to talk to someone. I'm not going to give them a choice. I put my name at the bottom of the paper, and walked up to two other leaders from the retreat and said, "I have to talk to someone. It has to happen." And to one I said, "If you can't make room for me, I'm going home now." First of all, sooooooo out of character for me to be so forceful with something for myself. My kids? Sure, I know how to advocate  get exactly what they need. But I never do this for myself. I had a sort of joking and anxious demeanor as I stated that I would be seen by a Spiritual Director, and honestly that was the best I could do aside from choking someone to get what I had to have. My instinct took over, and the survival part of my brain knew that something had to start moving otherwise the entire village below the dam would be destroyed.

The next event was a silence and solitude time. I knew exactly what I was going to do in my silence time. I grabbed my phone and wrote down the lyrics to this song:

This song has been on my heart for weeks. I can't get rid of it, and every time it comes up on my Pandora station I get so emotional. But this time was different. I wrote out every lyric and then journaled what I thought about the lyrics of the song. You are not my strength. You are not my anchor. I am shaken. I have been so moved. Where is your hand to hold?! I cannot possibly lift my weary head. Do you not see me suffering? Do you not care? At what point will you get up and show that my situation matters to you? When?! Do I need to be suicidal? What do you want from me?!

Both my tears and the drops of rain sprinkled over my journal pages. I ugly cried, alone. I mean it was silence and solitude time, but how symbolic that I would be crying alone once again. It's okay. I was used to it. I curled up in my blanket at the outdoor table in the rain and wept. Then it was lunch and I spoke to a retreat leader again to ensure that I would be able to talk to someone. They assured me I would be able to.

Myself and three others went wine tasting before my Spiritual Direction appointment, I mean, we were 10 minutes from Temecula. Then I headed back and just spilled my guts to this poor unsuspecting soul. Being a clinician myself, I knew the impact this would have on a person--to sit there and just listen to people for 4 hours?? That's a lot. I get it. And as quickly as the feeling of guilt creeped in, I shut it out because I needed what I needed. Two things I walked away with: I needed to get back to therapy (ha ha, story of my life :) and I needed to sit down and write out what the Sabbath would look like. Maybe it's only a handful of hours at first, but I needed rest in the worst way possible.

I didn't feel better per se after spiritual direction, but I did feel like I had a game plan at least. And I certainly felt depleted for crying A-gain. I sat up in the main room where there were some ladies from Zambia praying. I'm sure I'm not the only one who just sits there thinking, Should I ask for prayer? Should I not? It seems so silly on this side of it, but when people who live in a country of need pray, they pray with great expectation. They pray knowing that God yearns for us to reach out to him, and they expect him to show up. So I think my soul was sort of fighting this "all in" mentality. It's much more comfortable to dip your toe in the water, and Lord knows I appreciate my comfort! I just sat there watching people be prayed for, and at some points was almost void of thought or emotion. Still a shell. This woman from my church sat down next to me and we started talking. So the crazy thing about this interaction, is I don't know this woman. A year or two ago she came up to me and said God put me on her heart and she really felt like she needed to encourage me or help me or something. Nothing became of it, but she sat down next to me and said that she bought me a little something. I was amazed that a woman I basically don't know would think to buy me a gift. I opened up the bag and the first word I saw on the box was Hope. I couldn't even read the rest of the words before I began to sob. Hope lives here. I was operating with no hope. I was void of hope. Totally and utterly hopeless. She asked me if I was okay and I explained how hopeless I have felt recently. She bought me a water bottle and on it was written "be still and know..." Those beautiful words. Words that I did not know how to live out. She gave me a hug and I continued to sit by myself. I noticed my friend Teri went up to be prayed for, and I really felt like God said Andrea go up there and support her. I hadn't heard from God like that in a long time, so I figured I should listen. I walked up and one of the women said, "Do you need prayer?" I said sort of startled "Yes" and she said, "You will be prayed for." She was praying with this other woman that I sought out. I'm very aware of the essence of who a person is, and I'm drawn to certain people for different reasons. This woman Felicity, I was drawn to her because she is just so gentle and almost like nanny like. I needed gentle so badly. I couldn't do the fall on the ground, slain in the spirit stuff. Not my need right now. I needed to be held like a sick baby chick, softly, compassionately, and with such warmth so as to restore life to the precious little body. Anyhow, I was going to support my friend, and I did. After she was prayed for, we were told that dinner would end soon, and that we should go grab dinner real quick. I sort of thought I lost my chance, but maybe that's why God wanted me to go up for my friend, so that I could hear what I needed to hear also. How often do we do that? Oh, I guess this isn't my turn, okay. And so quickly that same woman that asked me before, Nicky, said, "Do you need prayer? You will be prayed for" in her beautiful South African accent. Sort of startled again that it would actually happen, I said yes. Felicity, the gentle one, came over to me with the most soft eyes. She was like Mrs. Claus, but younger, and long blonde hair. I said nothing. She kept looking at my jacket and said, "This color is beautiful. This pink is so soft. This is the color God has for you. You should look up the meaning of this color." And you know, it's funny because I discounted that, let's be honest, I thought it was weird until just now when I looked up the meaning of pink. The first thing I came across was this,

"The color pink represents compassion, nurturing and love. It relates to unconditional love and understanding, and the giving and receiving of nurturing."

Oh Father, you were just that in that exact moment. Ha ha, God is so patient with me--I literally didn't think there was any significance to what she said initially until this very moment.

Felicity bowed her head and was quiet for a few seconds. I assume she was trying to hear from Our Great Mystery. And how mysterious He is. (Isn't that an awesome name for God?!). I did NOT have my eyes closed. I was staring at Felicity, watching her every move. I guess you could say I was guarded. Then she looked up above her glasses and said, "Are you challenging God?"

Shit. This is real.

Remember the silence and solitude time? The time I said "You aren't any of these things you say you are. What do you need from me? How bad does this need to get before you start to care?" Remember that?...Yeah He remembered too.

I nodded my head and the tears started falling. "He's heard your challenge, and He's up for it." Felicity began praying for me, referencing the walls I've built up and this strong mistrust I have in God himself. All true. I don't trust God. She was the second person to say, "Andrea, God is not this other person that you have learned not to trust. God is worthy of your trust, and is willing to prove that he will show up to your party (figurative party)." Those words were so powerful for me...God is not that person. "You have been disappointed so much before, and you have no expectation of God because you don't want to be disappointed any longer. Do you want to ask God for forgiveness?"

HOLD THE PHONE. God needs to ask ME for forgiveness, I have NOTHING to be forgiven. I stared at her.

"Andrea, do you want to ask God for forgiveness?"
I started weeping, "I don't know how." That must have sounded like the stupidest thing ever. God forgive me. My four year old could have repeated those words so easily. Why was it so hard for me?
Felicity looked over at Nicky, the one who asked me twice if I wanted prayer and said that I would be prayed for. "Nicky, do you have anything?"
"I just see frustration. Frustration, frustration." Bingo. I broke down again.
Through my tears I said, "It's still there! It's still there!" The frustration that is.
Felicity came back to it, "Just say God forgive me." But she didn't say what for.
I stared at her some more, and couldn't move my mouth. I just couldn't. Finally the words came through, but they didn't go through my brain. The words supernaturally bypassed my logic, "God forgive me for not trusting you."

As I spoke those words (which to be honest, didn't even feel like I did it in my own power), I felt as though this cloak, like a wrap or a scarf was lifted off of me...the depression...and emotions flowed over. I was the softest person all of a sudden. Felicity prayed some more and I hugged her. I just snuggled into her softness like a child and wept. I can still feel her soft blonde hair on my wet cheek, her secure and warm embrace. Strong yet gentle. Secure. Trustworthy. I got the sense that Jesus had been present but silent during this time. This was between me and Daddy. My Abba, Father. I continued to weep, and repositioned my head again, snuggling in deeper.

I stayed there in that embrace for many many minutes. I can't even tell you how long. All the while being overwhelmed at the tangible presence of my Daddy--he was literally holding me--and also I was still being myself...I wonder how long it'll take before she pulls away. I was testing God again. Thankfully, Felicity has like a direct line to the Lord, and clearly was listening because she did not move. She didn't shift her weight, nothing. She was a rock. And the longer this went on, the longer I felt myself melt into the goodness of God. He knows I'm waiting for him to not provide fully for what I need. He showed up. Even in something as small as a hug that lasts a long time. Immanuel, God with us.

I finally pulled away, and it was so clear our defined roles in this relationship. God would always be worthy of my trust. He will always be everything I need. I can choose when I've had enough, or I'm filled.

I walked to the dining room with the two women that prayed for me and another friend? Ha ha, I don't remember who else was with me! A whole table of women (I didn't even know anyone knew I was missing or being prayed for because I had stayed behind) raised their hands to get my attention. 8 women saved me dinner. Wow. What a gesture! Too bad I wasn't hungry. They said, "Here is a piece of chicken, there's some rice pilaf..." I shouted in a really dorky way, but it was totally true, "I don't need food! I'm totally filled with God!" I know, super dorky. But honestly, it was the truth! I ate half a spinach salad and a chia or something pudding while telling them about my experience. It was crazy to recount it. Just crazy. And I retold my story to woman after woman, friend after friend. Each so gracious to hear every detail that I shared.

I know you think that's the end, and that certainly would have been enough, but God is more than enough, no??

So we had small group time and one of the ladies from Zambia brought her bag of essential oils. She was discussing with one of the women in my group about this idea of "offense" and when we feel offense, we need to realign our vision with God's. We need to repent, which means to have our vision be God's vision. To realign to what he sees. Then she explained that in order to do that we have to ask God to forgive us for not seeing things the way he does. This part of the story, I really don't do justice in telling. But it was a huge EUREKA moment for me! When Felicity asked me to ask to be forgiven, I didn't know what for. But now I got it. For not aligning with God. For not seeing the way he does. And it's not a shameful thing, there's no guilt attached. Quite the opposite. I felt such freedom in saying those words, "Forgive me God for not trusting you." You see, it wasn't for God. He didn't need to be lifted up, or get puffy because I was 'wrong.' It was all about the attitude of my heart. The moment my heart changed to realign with God's was the moment everything changed for me that day. Ha, isn't that always the case in any relationship? It's not really about the other person changing. It's usually about the change that occurs in ourselves. So anyway, back to the essential oils. So Naomi passed around her bag of oils and said to pick one.

You know me, I like to test God. I'm lucky he's so patient with me. So I took my time with the oils bag. God, I know a little about essential oils. We'll see if you show up here. MAN! I really test him. So I saw Acacia because I don't know this oil, and it intrigued me. Then Naomi gave me the card that went with it. Here ya go...

Well. Felicity did say God was up for the challenge. Even as I reread these cards I see Useful for: Fears, depression. Lord how can you be this good to me? 

I've gone through a lot of soul work in the past four years, and with even more intensity in the past several months. And one thing remains in all this--My Great Mystery is steadfast and enduring. He sees my challenge and instead of saying, "I don't have to prove myself to you AGAIN." Let's be real, the Creator of the universe does not have to prove himself at all, and certainly not to me, over and over and over again. He meets my challenge with gentleness. With such strong compassion. With the same care and tenderness that I hunger for. He knows. And he is beautifully gracious. 

I've been writing this post for a few days now, because it's long and takes time. But I think on this Mother's Day, this story of deep love despite my attitude, my hardness or mistrust is in perfect timing. There's something about a Mother's love that is unique, and while we often categorize God as having male form, he is everything we need. When I needed the sweet touch from a Mother, that is exactly what I got. God showed up to me as a Mother's love. 

May you find sweet communion with Motherhood today, whether that is in the warmth of the bright sun, the tender touch from a loved one, or whatever way you need. And may you be the embodiment of Motherly love to someone who is so in need too.