On Being a Mentally Ill, Introverted, Jesus-Follower

It's 5:00am and I am ready for today.  Not just figuratively.  I've literally showered, gotten dressed, had my coffee and quiet time.  See, here's the thing:  I hardly slept last night.  We're talking like two hours, max.

I don't mind.  I've had this debate with friends:  if you could choose between never having to sleep and never having to eat, which would you choose?  Let's face it, we spend a lot of time doing both.  And if you are the cook in your household you spend even more time on food.  If I never had to meal plan, grocery shop, prepare food, eat it, and then clean up?  Wow, I'd have a lot of spare time.

But that's not what I'd give up.  I'd take not ever having to sleep again, hands down.  I love all the hours in the day.  Ok, that's not quite the truth.  I love the early morning quiet as well as the midnight solitude.  Except if I try to enjoy both I end up being someone you don't want to be around.  Sleep deprivation does not make me a nice person.  I feel great right now but I'm banking on a nap after lunch so that my people don't want to run away from home.  Or spend time wishing I would.

Part of what I love about early morning is it's my best thinking time.  It's when I read books that require all of my concentration.  It's when I contemplate how I'm really doing: mentally, emotionally, spiritually.

And this morning what I realized is this:  I'm a mentally ill, introverted, Jesus-follower.  That description cracks me up!  And hopefully makes me relatable.

As far as my mental faculties go, I suffer from SAD (Seasonal Affective Disorder).  I blogged about it last year around this time.  

And I'll be honest, last year was worse.  It started earlier than usual (for me it usually starts around February.  Last year it started the beginning of December) and seemed more difficult than ever before.  I had never been officially diagnosed but always had that sneaking suspicion.  I actually went to the doctor last winter, confirmed that SAD was my problem, and started taking an anti-depressant.  

It made a world of difference for me.  I took the anti-depressant until mid-May when the world was once again overtaken by green growing things, abundant sunshine, and weather warm enough to have the windows and doors open.

Enter this year.  The weather had been super mild up thru Christmas.  Like, I wore flip flops and drove with my windows open on Christmas Eve.  Lovely.

And I've been eating waaayy better.  Mostly gluten and sugar free.  I say "mostly" cuz let's be real.  There's still some gluten and sugar sneaking in because they are delicious.  What's guacamole without super crunchy delicious pita chips?  Nothing, I tell you.  That's what.

Anyway, I've read some research about how gluten and sugar can be contributors to depression.  Also how healthy carbs (think quinoa, sweet potatoes, sprouted grains, fruit) can help increase serotonin levels giving you that "feel good" feeling (clearly I am slightly impaired from my lack of sleep.  '"feel good" feeling'?  Words are hard.)

So, the combination of warm weather deep into December + nourishing food has been good for me.  However, in the last week or two I've been noticing some things.  I'm really tired.  I'm not sleeping well.  I can't concentrate.  I feel overwhelmed.  All symptoms of SAD.

And then there's the socializing part.  I have a very difficult time trying to tell if my lack of desire to socialize is due to SAD or being an introvert. 

I've been working my way thru this book:

"Quiet: The Power of Introverts in a World That Can't Stop Talking" by Susan Cain.

It.Is.Facinating.

There have been many "Ah-ha!" moments for me.  Moments where I am finally feeling validated about my behavior instead of wondering what's wrong with me.  Being an introvert is not a character flaw.  It's just how I'm wired and the world needs both introverts and extroverts.

We've just come thru The Blizzard of 2016.  The one we'll be talking about for winters to come.  Close to three feet of snow.

Everything was canceled, as you can imagine.  The biggest thing was our church's Ladies Retreat.  It's a weekend we spend at a nearby hotel.  We have a speaker who does four sessions.  We go shopping, stay up late, sit in the hot tub, eat delicious snacks, and laugh a lot.  I always enjoy it and I know if we would have had it this year I would have had a great time.

But guess what?  We canceled it and I wasn't sad.  Not even a little bit.  And I'm not sure if it's because of my introverted nature or my mental illness.

Can I tell you another secret?  If I've chosen you for a friend, I love you deeply.  But if you cancel our plans?  I'm super happy to stay at home.  This is especially true in the winter which leads me to believe it's a combo of my nature and my mental state.

I was texting with a good friend on Saturday in the midst of the blizzard.  We had very similar results when we compared our Myers-Briggs personality tests except for the fact that she is an extreme extrovert whereas I am an extreme introvert.  She started the conversation by asking if I'd ever read "Quiet" as she was in the midst of reading it.

I was able to put into words a vague notion that had been floating around in my brain.  I said this to her:

"One of my biggest struggles is knowing when to say no to something because it stresses me as an introvert vs. using introvertedness as an excuse...I don't want to be a person who misses out on what God has for me because I'm hiding behind introvertedness."

I want very much to lead a life that points to Jesus.  Out of these three things that I feel define me, I want the most obvious to be that I love Jesus.

Are you a mentally ill, introverted Jesus-follower?  If so, you are part of my tribe.  I'd love to hear your thoughts on this. 

In an e-mail.

Definitely not a phone call.

It you don't get that then you might not actually be a tribe member ;)

Today I worshiped thru tears.  A continual stream of them.

I am sure I was not the only one.

On Tuesday morning I was driving to work singing along to the radio at the top of my lungs (the only acceptable volume, really).  It was a cold morning but I had my heated seat turned on and I had just come from listening to my friend, Adrianne, talk to our ladies group at church.

I did my job, picked up Jake from preschool, and came home.

And Larry says to me, "Did you hear?".

No, I hadn't.

He then told me how a woman who used to come to our church had died.  Very unexpectedly.

A young woman.

A pregnant young woman.

A pregnant young woman with a husband and a toddler.

I felt waves of grief crashing over me.

I wasn't close to this young woman.  But I had watched her while she was in the youth group.  While she was a young bride.  I felt like she smiled all the time.  She was so cheerful.

And now, she was gone.

As the day unfolded, so did the story.

I heard that they were unable to save Jeneva but they delivered her baby boy.  And things were looking good for him.

All day Wednesday I thought about Jeneva's husband, Mervin.  And their little girl.  And their baby in the hospital.  And I couldn't take my prayers much farther than "Oh, Jesus."

Then on Thursday, right before I left for work, I got a text.

Pray for the baby, it said, the doctors think there is significant brain damage.

The sun was shining as I drove my son to school and it felt like a mockery.

I dropped him off and drove to work.  I didn't listen to the radio.

I said to God, "How can one man handle this much pain?"
Sometimes it seems like God makes mistakes.

As I was cresting the hill on Railroad Ave coming into New Holland, something caught my eye.  It wasn't the church steeple stretching skyward, a view that normally I love.  It was well below the steeple.

It was the graveyard.

The tombstones to be specific.

They were glittering in the sunshine.

I don't know why or how but, for some reason, it comforted me.

Then this morning.

A sweet girl who had been a good friend of Jeneva's led worship.

We sang "Glorious One", "Lord I Need You", and "Revelation Song" among others.

I sang with tears streaming down my face the entire time.  Wanting to worship this Jesus whom I love but also feeling the ache of loss for someone that I barely knew.  Wanting to worship but also feeling the why.

Why did God allow this to happen?

Isn't that always the question we ask when tragedy strikes?

We can get philosophical and go into the fall of mankind at the beginning.  How death entered the world because of sin.

But I'd like to suggest that sometimes it's ok to just sit with the 'I don't know'.  And not just sit with it alone.  To bring it to Jesus and be broken and say 'I don't know why this happened and it breaks my heart.  But I trust you.  I trust that you know what you are doing and I'm going to look for you in this situation   Please show yourself to me.'

We sang the phrase "eternity sings" and I thought of Jeneva, singing in heaven this morning.  She loved Jesus, was committed to following his ways, and because of that she gets to sing his praises for eternity.  It's a comforting thought.

In Sunday school this morning we looked into the first two chapters of Ecclesiastes.  They are basically summed up in chapter one, verse two: "Meaningless!  Meaningless!" says the Teacher, "Utterly meaningless!  Everything is meaningless."

This was said by Solomon, one of the wealthiest and wisest men in history.

It makes me sad but, in a way, I see his point.

I do a lot of things that will never be remembered after I'm gone.  Mountains of laundry, piles of dirty dishes, mindless web surfing.

And even the important things that I do, making my husband and kids feel loved, being there for my friends, church work, writing this blog, generations from now it is most likely that no one will know my name.

But you know what?  I'm not gonna be here generations from now.
I am here right now.

And I say my life has meaning.  I say each day has value.  I say giving thanks for the little things is leaving a legacy for my kids and grandkids.

Today I watched people hug each other and I hugged a bunch of people.  I loved that.

Today I went for a hike under a white-puffy-cloud-blue sky with some people I care about.  I loved that.

Today I heard laughter and music that made my heart rejoice.  I loved that.

Today I tasted sweet chocolate, salty peanut butter, savory rosemary.  I loved that.

I read something in Shauna Niequist's book "Bittersweet" that I want to share with you.

"Bittersweet is the practice of believing that we really do need both the bitter and the sweet, and that a life of nothing but sweetness rots both your teeth and your soul.  Bitter is what makes us strong, what forces us to push through, what helps us earn the lines on our faces and the calluses on our hands.  Sweet is nice enough, but bittersweet is beautiful, nuanced, full of depth and complexity.  Bittersweet is courageous, gutsy, earthy."

The last thought I want to leave you with is this:

Jesus set the example in giving thanks.  1Corinthians 11: 23b-24a says "The Lord Jesus, on the night he was betrayed, took bread, and when he had given thanks he broke it..."

It's a stilling thought.

Jesus knew his betrayal was going to come at the hand of a friend.  He knew how his body was going to be beaten and brutalized.  He knew there was incredible suffering ahead for him on the cross.  And, yet, he gave thanks.

Sometimes our eucharisteo is bold and bright.

Sometimes life causes our eucharisteo to become faded and broken.

But the important thing is that we keep on giving thanks.

"Worthy is the King who conquered the grave."

I thought I would write this blog post yesterday.  You see, I was trapped at home all day yesterday.  Our truck was in the garage so Larry drove the jeep to work which meant I was stuck at home.

And if you read the words "trapped" and "stuck" as good things, you know me well.  I was delighted to have the ability to go nowhere.

This is the week of Christmas.  Which means I'm making a lot of food.  So I cooked and baked and watched Downton Abbey.

My family, we've got this tradition of having an untraditional Christmas dinner.  In the past we've done fried food, breakfast food, appetizers, Italian, cheeseburgers.  This year our theme is soft pretzels.  The above pictures are the making of soft pretzel bread bowls and bacon chowder.  Yeah, you heard that right: bacon chowder.  Oh.My.Goodness.

Here are the recipes.  If you make them you won't be sorry.  Also, I'm sorry.  For the bacon chowder recipe.  It's scribbly and written on the back of a bank envelope.  Cuz I made it up and that is how I roll.

I also made soft pretzel hot dogs.  Mmmm.

And then death by chocolate Christmas trees for Cole's Christmas party at school.

And then we had leftover candy.  So we made these.

One more photo on the subject of food.

So it was a productive day but no blogging happened.  But the idea behind this blog started on Sunday morning.

If you follow me on Instagram (madefromscratchwithlove) you saw this picture on Sunday morning.

Sunrises and silhouettes.  There is just something about the breaking of a new day.  And the outline of familiar objects still darkened, waiting for the light to fully shine.  I can't put my finger on it or find the right words but it makes me grateful to be alive to witness the beauty.

So that is how my day started along with a pint and a half of coffee and two homemade peanut butter cups for breakfast.  I was feeling pretty dang good by the time we got to church.  Social even.  I know, I know, gasp!

We walked into the sanctuary and right away I noticed the risers.  One son did too.  "Oh, are they gonna sing?" he says.

"I think so," I say.

"I don't like that," he says.

And here's the part where I want to be delicate and I don't want to lose or offend.  I don't like it either.  I know that some of you who were singing in the choir on Sunday will be reading this.  Please keep reading and please don't be offended.  It's nothing personal.

I just don't like when the choir sings.  

I could feel my bad attitude taking over.  As the choir opened their mouths, I opened my bulletin.  I was reading and not listening.  Reading the prayer page.

I read about a young couple, she on bed rest, trying to keep her baby in the womb because it's too early, he needing shoulder surgery but having it postponed because of the current situation with his wife and unborn child.

I read about a woman recovering from an acute ear infection whose equilibrium is off.  This same woman who has been trying to help her daughter whose husband had a stroke.

I read about another young couple whose infant daughter is still in the hospital because she needs a bone marrow transplant.

I read about a family who had laid their father/grandfather to rest last week.  Just before Christmas.

And then I heard what the choir was singing.

"Praise his name, Emmanuel."

And the tears came.  I'm choking more back right now.

Praise his name.  God with us.  In the darkness.  In the pain.  In the struggle.  In the uncertainty.

Christmas is for the broken.  

When you look past the tinsel and the holly and the lights and the cookies and the ugly sweater parties, Christmas is for the broken.

If there had been no darkness or pain or struggle or uncertainty we wouldn't have a need for Jesus.  And the story surrounding his birth had all of those elements; darkness, pain, struggle, uncertainty.

He knows.

I don't know where you are right now, how you are feeling, what you are thinking.  What I do know is this:  Jesus isn't afraid of your real prayers.  He's not afraid of the mess.  He's not afraid of your questions.  The greatest gift you can give this season is to come to Jesus with your realest you.  He can handle it.  Trust him.

"For to us a child is born,

to us a son is given,

and the government will be on his shoulders.

And he will be called Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace."

Normally when I sit down to blog I have some phrases and/or sentences already stored in my mind.  But not today.

What I have is a vague idea.  Something that I've often thought of but never really took any farther than a simple thought.

I am the only person who knows all the people that I know and you are the only person who knows all the people that you know.

It's kind of a weird thought.  But think about it.  Nobody else on earth knows every single person that I know.  Larry knows a lot of the people who I know.  But not all of them.  Not the ones I went to elementary school with.  Not the ones I went to church with before I met Larry.  Not the ones I know from random weird connections.  And I don't know everyone he knows.

Just think about it.

I helped to cater a local church board's Christmas dinner tonight.  I wore my I-might-have-to-talk-to-strangers-hat. 

After we were finished serving I was hiding cleaning up in the back room.  But I could hear what the pastor was saying.  He touched on a verse in Acts.  A verse I'd heard before but that stilled me anew tonight.

"When they saw the courage of Peter and John and realized that they were unschooled, ordinary men, they were astonished and they took note that these men had been with Jesus." ~Acts 4:13

Two things grabbed my attention.

#1: "...they were unschooled, ordinary men..."

It's no secret that I find great delight in the ordinary.  I've blogged before about how the shepherds are my favorite characters in the Christmas story simply because they are so ordinary.

"And there were shepherds living out in the fields nearby, keeping watch over their flocks at night."

It always makes me smile.  

Envisioning the shepherds.   

Cloaks, long beards, staffs.

It always makes me still with wonder.

Envisioning the night sky.

Diamonds glittering against black.

It's a peaceful scene that I see.  And then.

"An angel of the Lord appeared to them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were terrified."

No kidding.  I imagine they might have looked a little like this:

Eyebrows raised.  Mouth agape.  Body tilted sideways (or "sidewards" as Jake likes to say). 

Can you even imagine?  The Lord of heaven and earth chose to have his birth announcement go first to unschooled, ordinary men.

Fast forward to Acts.  Jesus chose to have his gospel, his kingdom, furthered thru unschooled, ordinary men.  Men who had more knowledge of fish guts than people.

Just, wow.

#2:  "...and they took note that these men had been with Jesus."

Herein lies the secret of being memorable.  The rulers, elders, and teachers of the law recognized that Peter and John were just ordinary guys.  But what made them courageous, what made them stand out, what made them different was that they had been with Jesus.

Which brings me around to my first thought.  I am the only person who knows every single person I know.  You are the only person who knows every single person you know.  Your sphere of influence is different than mine.  We most likely know some of the same people and so our spheres overlap a bit.  But here is the question:  do the people in my sphere take note that I have been with Jesus?

Am I making time to spend with Emmanuel so that my brand of ordinary becomes noticeable, memorable?  I confess that I don't always.

It's 11 days until Christmas.  My prayer for you, for me, is that we influence our spheres well.

All or Nothing or Something

It's 7:30 and my house is still quiet.  It's really nothing short of a miracle.  

Or maybe it's because my kids had friends overnight and I finally told them they had to go to sleep at 2:30am.

Whatever.  I'll take it.

My blogging has been quite infrequent this fall.  And I've been ok with that up until now.  It's been over a month since I've blogged and I've started many posts in my head but they've not been allowed to flow from my fingertips.

I've got things to say.  But I'm not sure I can articulate my thoughts well.

First this:  It's less than a week until I speak to the ladies of New Life Fellowship at their Christmas tea.  My thoughts for that evening look like my desk top:  books, magazines, checks, report cards, recipes, bills, invitations, and folders all in a messy, giant heap.

Ew.

Anyway.  


I've been reading this book.  Rereading actually.  Maybe for the fourth time.  I'm not sure, I've lost count.

One Thousand Gifts by Ann Voskamp.

Have you heard of it?  Please buy it for yourself as a Christmas gift.  Every time I read it I am struck anew.  Yesterday I read this:

"In a world addicted to speed, I blur the moments into one unholy smear...Hurry always empties a soul...I speak it to God:  I don't really want more time; I just want enough time.  Time to breathe deep and time to see real and time to laugh long, time to give You glory and rest deep and sing joy and just enough time in a day not to feel hounded, pressed, driven, or wild to get it all done - yesterday."

When I speak to the ladies at New Life I kinda wanna get up and just read them this book.  Ann wrote my heart in that paragraph.

Those words are how I want to live all year.  But especially in this season.  I want to do less so I can be more.  To appreciate now instead of thinking about what needs to happen before then.  Ann says this: "Thanks makes now a sanctuary."

A sanctuary. A haven.  A place of rest.  A place of restoration.

And I don't know about you, but I could use a little restoration.

A little fine tuning.  A little fixing of my heart.

I'm not usually up on all the current events.  Actually, I might be the least informed person you ever want to meet.  I don't watch the news because the news makes me cry.

So I become like Pharaoh and harden my heart.

But this refugee thing.  I can't ignore it any more.

I tried.

I skimmed the headlines in my newsfeed.  I scrolled right passed the blog posts and articles.  I skipped the pictures.

Until I didn't.

In the early morning hours I looked and I read and I felt.

And I wept.

I wrestled with God.  I gave him my list of excuses.

Too busy.
No connections.
Few resources.
Much fear.

God didn't accept my excuses.

What about Thursdays?
Ask Adrianne.
Compared to what?

And the fear.  I kept coming back to a line from The Chronicles of Narnia.  A line spoken about Aslan.

"Safe?" said Mr. Beaver, "Who said anything about safe?  'Course he isn't safe.  But he's good."

Think about Jesus with me for a moment.  Is he safe?  Think about how he lived his life.  He did so many things that were risky.  Things outside the box.  Things that weren't accepted by the religious leaders of the day.  People hated Jesus.

And we are called to be like him.

I'll level with you.  I say that I want to be like Jesus.  But when it's time for the rubber to meet the road...let's just say I like my life the way it is.  It's comfortable.  It's safe.  I'm not rocking any boats.

Then I read articles.  I read statistics.  I see pictures.  And there is war.  The Holy Spirit wars against my flesh.  I know that I can no longer sit by and do nothing.  I cannot sit and read about gifts and thanksgiving and eucharisteo and do nothing.  I cannot put pen to paper and write my own gifts and do nothing.

So I research.  I talk to like minded people.  I send emails.  I go to the store and buy some things.  Things I take for granted every day. Things I would sorely miss if I had to flee my home.

Toothbrush.
Hand towel.
Finger nail clippers.
Soap.

Enough for 10 people.  It seems like too little.  I read that MCC is in urgent need of 8,000 hygiene kits.  I bought enough for 10.  I fought against the All or Nothing.  I can't buy enough for 8,000.  But I don't have to do Nothing.  I can do Something.

So that is where I choose to live.  Not in the All, because I simply can't.  But not in the Nothing, because Jesus won't let me live there anymore.

I'm living in the Something.  I don't know what all that means.  But I'm wondering if you will come live here with me?

Maybe if we all did Something it would be Enough.

Tomorrow is Thanksgiving.  I hope it is a day of renewal for you.  I hope it's filled with great food and great family and friends.  I hope it's a day where we thank God for what we have and ask him what he wants us to do about those who don't have.  I hope it's a day where we let the Holy Spirit win.

Happy Thanksgiving.