I sit here in my recently made-over home office, begging God to make me over.

I am in my favorite chair, the one that generations have sat in before me, the one that reminds me of my sweet Grandpa.

It takes me back to this past spring, his frail body sitting in a chair, cozied up in blankets during his last days.  I remember so clearly his sweet smile as his eyes closed and his head relaxed back,  his hand patting mine. I didn’t know the next time I would see him his hand would be lifeless, and mine would be stroking his hair, touching his face, coming to rest on his pulse, and feeling the very last few beats of one of the kindest hearts I have known.  This precious moment,  as I felt the life-blood leave, was a moment that has stayed with me.  I will tell more of the story another time, it is one of beauty.  It is one of a bride married 66 years, saying her goodbyes and releasing her lover to Jesus, as I sat by and caught a glimpse of eternity.

This chair, passed down from my Great Grandmothers’ Grandmother, has stood the test of time quite well.

The only bit of wear and tear is where one’s head would rest. It is slightly worn there.  I think of others who have come before me, lying their weary heads to rest, feeling worn.

This life is hard, and I have just come out of one of the hardest seasons this summer, and I am worn. I have been quiet here on the blog, a necessity as the much of my weariness comes from a story that is not mine to tell, at least not in detail.   I have not had the time or the emotional stamina to work.  Posts have been few and far between. I miss writing & creating.

School started Tuesday for my 3 lovelies, and I now have the time that I craved most of the summer.  I have found though, that there is a recovery process going on with me that is taking some time.  This is life…this being ‘made -over.’  I cling to the promise that it is all going to be ok, because He is the one who makes all things new, redeeming all that seems wrong to good in the lives of those who love Him.  {Romans 8:28}

I know this post is supposed to be about mental illness, and really it is.  My little lovely has been ill, and I know I too am fighting the effects of illness, both physical and mental.

Mental triggered by physical, they entwine and do a sad dance.

My physical state has not been great, my reproductive organs really misbehaving, causing pain & bleeding and sending me to the doctor more than I would like.  So far we have found a fibroid tumor, and I thanked God what showed up on the scan was not cancer.  I am in the middle of ongoing testing to figure out why I am having the symptoms I do.  My cancer medication that  suppresses hormones has been a hard one to continue to take.  There are no easy answers.  Due to doctors order mix-up, I recently experienced what it would be like coming off of the meds, and it was a struggle.  5 days of waiting for the prescription to be refilled, my body went into withdrawal symptoms, and just when I was starting to adjust I went back on the meds, for more days of adjustment.  It was not pretty, and I continue to feel the effects of that mixup.  That is just my bottom half.  My top half is also misbehaving.  The reconstruction that I had done in October/November of last year looks great, but my right side formed a keloid that has grown even more extensive than before fixing it last fall, the most drastic changes happened in just the last month.  I have both my dermatologist and my plastic surgeon puzzled.  They don’t know what to do with me.  If it continues to grow, it will mess up my reconstruction.  Just last week the scar area on the other side formed two small pinpoint scabs, out of the blue.  That really took me by surprise, as it had healed beautifully. This is something my oncologist wants to take a look at asap, as the incision site is often a place where reoccurrence happens.  I am nervous because to biopsy that area could very well cause a keloid there, too, and mess up the reconstruction that I have grown quite attached to.

I know all of this physical stuff has a huge effect on how I feel emotionally and mentally.

{Worn — Tenth Avenue North}

I’m worn.

I then scroll through Facebook. See the horror of horrors called ISIS, and cry out to the One who holds it all and knows it all & promises to make some sort of sense of it all.

I keep scrolling, see Robin Williams face, and am reminded of why I choose to talk about mental illness on this blog.

I have found 2 articles that speak my heart loud and clear that I must pass on.

Thoughts On Depression, Suicide & Being A Christian — Nish Weiseth

What The Church & Christians Need To Know About Mental Illness –Ann Voskamp

{via Ann Voskamp.com}

Instead of doing much writing right now on mental illness, I am doing some healing and letting Him carry me through my own journey with illness.

In the meantime, this is the song I choose to sing.

{Colton Dixon-You Are}

———-

When I can’t find the words 
To say how much it hurts 
You are the healing in my heart 
When all that I can see are broken memories 
You are the light that’s in the dark 

(Chorus) 
You are the song, 
You are the song I’m singing
You are the air, 
You are the air I’m breathing 
You are the hope, 
You are the hope I needed
You are 

And when my circumstance leaves me with empty hands
You are the provider of my needs
When all my dirtiness has left me helpless
You are the rain that washes me


If I had no voice, 
If I had no tongue, 
I would dance for you like the rising sun. 
And when that day comes and I see your face. 
I will shout your endless glorious praise. 

————–

He is my song, my air, my hope.

In time, I know I will rise from the sad, turn my face to the Son, rise up like the sun and dance.

—————-

The home office makeover and chair I speak of?  I will be featuring them both in a post tomorrow.  That is, if I can do as James Brown suggests and get up off this thing, and dance until I feel better. 🙂

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Going There — Mental Illness

Going There — Mental Illness: PMDD & Getting Health