Weight of the world

I looked forward to this week. I had almost nothing planned, so I thought I could get a lot of writing done and spend quality time with my kids. I thought it would be a good week. But I find myself hurting a lot lately. For those nearby and for those far away. For those who won't do what it takes to better their circumstances and for those who can't. My heart hurts for my friends whose marriages have been broken apart by divorce or by death; who flounder in depression, or anxiety, or health problems, or poor self-esteem; who fear for their well-being or who question their faith. It hurts for those who hate and those who are hated because both are in a grim place. It hurts a lot lately because there are so many people out there who are hurting and that seems to be the norm, the status quo, the way life just is these days. And it just seems to be getting worse, every day, every month, every year. There is no cure. Except Christ. He is there. And He can cure all things, but only if we let him. And it seems like more and more people in this world are unwilling to look at the Biblical "serpent on the staff." So I hurt.

Now, I know He can heal me, too. I know that I can give this burden to Him, but I haven't figured out how yet. I am working on it. And I'm not moping around the house all day saying "Woe is me!" I'm not depressed (most days) beyond my ability to cope. I just would like to stop feeling powerless to help, or stop being inundated with the cumulative sadness of the entire globe. If any of you have any insight for me, I would be happy to hear it.

Going back to spending time with my kids, we did go sledding this week. I love sledding with my kids, especially since I discovered the feet-warming awesomeness of Sorels. Let me be warm, and I actually don't mind being out in the snow for two hours. Imagine that.

I'm too lazy to write all this stuff twice, so you get my instagram pictures and captions. Sorry to those of you who already saw this stuff.

We went sledding with Ben and Haylee and their kids. It was a big hill that was quite packed, so we had quite a few wipeouts, but everyone enjoyed themselves. Especially when we bought donuts and ate them with hot chocolate afterwards. Cecily is fearless and unbreakable though. The only time she cried was when the snow flew up in her face and got in her eyes (because water in her eyes might as well be sulfuric acid).

Sunday afternoon snuggles in a patch of real sunlight is almost enough to make up for having to teach primary and having to cancel dinner plans (after you already made the food) because you discover *in church* that your kid has pinkeye.

This was me on Monday. Depression got the better of me that day. I didn't put on makeup. I still had my pjs on at 5pm. I didn't make dinner. I barely held onto my composure every time the kids were in the room even though they were just being kids. The noise and the chaos and the *needing* things was just more than my overtaxed brain could handle.

I have far fewer of these days than I did when I was a sleep-deprived new mom who couldn't figure out what depression medication worked for her. But I still have them and they're still hard.
The thing I've learned, though, and the thing I wanted to pass on today, is that my depression is not me. If you suffer with depression or anxiety, those conditions, though personal, do not define you. You and I are not bad people because we have a hard time functioning some days. It is a trial that we deal with the best that we can and God is proud of us for continuing to try. He is cheering us on and blessing our efforts to overcome, blessing our efforts to focus on the light, on the blessings, on the happy things he puts in our paths.

I took this picture because I made my bed that day and it was a small triumph that I wanted to celebrate. Celebrate your triumphs. Look for the light. You will be blessed for your efforts.