Isaiah 9:2 The people who walk in darkness will see a great light; Those who live in a dark land, the light will shine on them.
During our pastor’s sermon yesterday at church, he talked about the high of the highs and the low of the lows. He talked about how you can reach a peak of euphoria and excitement one day and in the next moment be bottoming out, exhausted and plunging into the darkness. He spoke of God’s plan to put us into these dark situations so that we may learn to rely and trust and turn only to Him.
I don’t feel like I’m in the low of the lows right now, but there are signs that I might be heading there. It doesn’t take much for me to swing from a high to a low. I spent many times on my therapist’s couch asking her if she thought I was bipolar. She assured me that I was not, but the swings that I experience sometimes are so rapid that no one sees them coming. Not even me. PTSD can do that to you also. Sometimes I just want to forget that I have that. And then the darkness gets to be too much to fight off and I’m painfully aware it’s there.
This last weekend was filled with fun and family and faith. We had a great time lounging by the pool, eating together, enjoying the Whaling Days parade, going to church, celebrating the sunshine and having a great time. There was no reason there should have been a low coming. But I’m working on it. And putting it out there because maybe I can press on the brakes and turn this around. Or, maybe I can help someone else turn their rapid descent around.
“What’s wrong?”
“You sound sad.”
“Want to talk about it?”
I do. But I also so desperately don’t. I don’t want to admit that I am weak, because that is how I feel. I shouldn’t even be sad. I have an amazing life with an amazing family and amazing friends. I have two little girls that are the best things ever. I just finished a great weekend filled with my favorite things. What could possibly be wrong?
I quickly answer “I’m fine.” Or “I don’t know.” And change the subject. The conversation ends and I am immediately filled with regret. Not for not sharing. For feeling like I’m making my people feel like they’ve done something wrong. That they are not important. That I don’t trust them. Which then just spirals into more. I’ve gained weight. Let’s look at old pictures that don’t seem that long ago and ponder how it can take a whole year to lose 30 pounds but less than six weeks to gain it all back. I got mad at Emerson and said things out loud that I didn’t mean, or shouldn’t have even said. I question my skills and my place as a mother. School is starting soon and I don’t want to go back to work. I’m not ready. So thoughts of walking away from everything cross my mind. The walls seem to be closing in and the darkness is settling all around and I’m not sure I can do this ride one more time.
I squeeze my eyes shut and listen for the music, HIS music, playing to my soul. Shining light into my darkness. Praise songs. His voice comforting me. Pastor’s words. God’s arms holding me and carrying me through this dark valley. It’s a dance that I have learned over the years of being thrown into the darkest of valleys. Laying in a broken heap at rock bottom, the music of His love and grace and peace begins, and we begin dancing in the dark. Swaying back and forth to the music, finding the words of the Holy Gospel filling the empty spaces of my soul. And I rise. I rise out of the darkness, towards the light, towards the sound of His voice, towards the space where I am at the high of the highs. I remember that I’m a great mom. I remember that I’m more than a number on the scale. I remember that I am putting in work every day at the kickboxing studio and there is no shame in gaining. I am strong. I know what I need to do. I remember that I am a daughter of the Most High King. I remember...
Those remember moments play a huge part in the peaks and valleys. Memories play and I plummet to the bottom into the dark, but those same memories can also drag me back up to the place where I can breathe and sing and dance. This right now is a low. Darkness. But because of the care and compassion and love of my Heavenly Father, and the people that He has gifted me with, I am dancing in the dark, closing my eyes, listening for His voice and remembering the steps to rise back to a peak moment. I know that He makes good out of all things. And I know that I am on this journey for a purpose, for a reason. I need to remember. I need to remember His purpose for me. I need to remember that I am not weak, but strong in HIM. I need to remember that He is with me, and He is carrying me through these darkness moments.
So, today, the dark memories are winning. I feel fat. I’m ashamed. I’m sad. I’m remembering things in the darkness. But, the undying beat from Holy Spirit begins. And suddenly, I’m dancing in the dark. And as all my of the negative messages pile up and push me down until I feel like I’m drowning, I hear His voice telling me that I am His daughter. I am His creation. And I am made perfect in Him.
Dancing in the dark...until His light eventually breaks through again.
