Trust Tested: Scary prayers and phone calls

Statistics say that two out of three people suffering from depression never seek treatment. Of those that do, many discontinue treatment for a variety of reasons, including side effects from medication, financial concerns, and so on.

Son quit taking his medication, saying that he could not handle the side effects and besides, it wasn't helping.  Even my Oscar-worthy performance of the toolbox analogy did not sway him.  Because he was legally an adult, I had no option but to pray.  I prayed fervently for several years, despairing as I watched him slip down, down, down.  In constant fear, I truly expected that any day he would take his own life.

That's when my prayer changed from the begging, pleading, heal-him-quick prayer to the scariest prayer I think I've ever prayed.  Because God does His best work when we hit rock bottom, I prayed that God would take my son down to rock bottom so that he would have no choice but to seek treatment.  Following that and overwhelmed with fear of what would happen, I prayed as the father did in Mark 9:24  "Immediately the boy’s father exclaimed, “I do believe; help me overcome my unbelief!”

God answered my prayer by allowing my son to hit his rock bottom.  I didn't know it at the time.  And to this day, I do not know what happened. 

But I got a phone call.

It was a mental health care facility.  The lady on the other end of the line told me who she was, and that my son was sitting in her office.  Apparently had been for hours.  The only reason she could talk to me was that my son, an adult, had given his permission.

She said my son was in serious condition.  A high suicide risk.  He had told her that he and his dad liked outdoor sports, hunting, fishing, and that we owned guns.  My son could not come home, she said, until I promised that all guns and weapons would be locked up and stay that way.  Without hesitation, I promised.  Told her of the fireproof gun safe with double combinations plus a key that my husband owns.

And then I broke down and cried, and told her that I had prayed for this moment.  That I had known for years that my son needed help, and how I was so relieved it had come to this point.   I begged her to tell me what I could do to help him.  Anything, I said.  We'll do anything.  She relayed both my relief and my question to my son.  He thought for a moment and replied that he didn't want me crying when he came home.  Again, I promised.  That was easy.  But that was not really the answer I wanted, unfortunately, that was the only answer I got.

When son arrived home a couple hours later, I hugged him tight, as tight as I could.  Told him I loved him.  Told him I was proud of him.  Told him he could count on mom and dad to help him in any way we could.

He went to his room and again, closed the door, shutting me out.

That day changed us all.  Some changes for the better.  Some changes for the worse.

There is hope for your future, declares the Lord, and your children shall come back to their own country.   Jeremiah 31:17

He Makes All Things Beautiful In Its Time

He makes all things beautiful in its time.  Ecclesiastes 3:11
   
You have turned for me my mourning into dancing; you have loosed my sackcloth and clothed me with gladness.  Psalm 30:11
   
I have said these things to you, that in me you may have peace. In the world you will have tribulation. But take heart; I have overcome the world.”  John 16:33


As Christians, we have a most amazing weapon in our arsenal against the battles and wars raging in our lives.  And that is hope.  Jesus told us we would have tribulations in this world, but that He has overcome them.

A friend brought me this heart-shaped souvenir rock from a trip she went on.  My hope always faltering, the rock lives on my desk so that I can see it, pick it up, hold it, remind myself of the hope I have. The stone is cool and polished smooth.  I often trace my fingertips over the letters as if trying to absorb the engraved hope by osmosis into my broken heart.  

It does not take much for the door of my anxiety closet to swing wide open and all the boogeymen to rush out and attack me in weak moments.

Yesterday, it was jealousy, downright sinful envy that washed over me upon receiving a save-the-date card for a friend's daughter's wedding.   The happy couple smile adoringly at each other on the Pinterest-inspired card seem to mock me, and my stomach knots.  The self-flagellation begins as I sternly tell myself that I am beyond happy for my friend and her family at such joy.

But the knot tightens.   I doubt that my son will ever be healed enough to venture forth into the world, find the love of his life and get married.  Bolstering my doubt is his closed bedroom door.  I think I did see him yesterday, after I texted him to remind him to come eat something.

Mentally, I relive the past week.  The Christmas Eve midnight service we went to.  The brief conversation we had where he admitted that he is feeling better after a year and a half of treatment.  He describes his depression and moods as once being like an upside-down mountain range.  There is no up.  Only down and further down.  I imagine a rock-climber clinging to further down trying to climb up higher to simply down.   But now, he explains, it's like right-side up rolling hills.

Much easier to navigate, I had remarked, trying to not press him to go deeper than he is comfortable sharing, and praying fervently that I won't say anything stupid to make him clam up and end our conversation.  His succinct reply darts my heart:  Don't press an analogy too far, mom.

Hubby limps in from work.  He is in severe pain, arthritic knee worsened by cold and damp.  He needs surgery desperately but we can't afford it.  The "economic downturn" was apocalyptic to us.  After losing the job he'd been at for 25 years and bouncing around from job to job for the last five years, he's been at his present job for a year and a half.  Not yet long enough to be out of work for eight weeks during post-op recovery and still have a job.  Not long enough to have made the leap from an hourly employee to a salaried employee and have income during that recovery.

In all this anxiety, a verse pops out of the blue into my mind.  "He makes all things beautiful in its time."  In His time, not mine. 

Discouragement is simply having reached a premature conclusion.

I rub fingertips across my stone.  I can feel hope.