prayer of a child

It was the prayer of a precious little girl that caused my meltdown tonight. Staring into the faces of some of my closest friends, I fell apart. It took everything in me to get through the end of the prayer, and I thank God that when I did, I had a screen full of brothers and sisters looking back at me with love and concern in their eyes. There was no way to hide how I was feeling, but it honestly took me by surprise. How could I not notice?

Before Covid-19, depression commercials were not that uncommon. I would watch them and think to myself, "Geez, this commercial is depressing!" and I would dismiss its message. I now realize that the diagnosis itself falls on a spectrum that is so wide that one who is simply "having a bad day" falls under the same category as someone who is having thoughts of suicide. It is such an ugly word, and I hate the connotation.

But wait a second. How could this have happened to me? I mean, I'm Sarah. I love life! I love to laugh. I love to smile. I love to make other people smile! I sing in the grocery isle. And sometimes, I may even do a little dance when no one is looking. I find refuge in my God who has saved me and given me a new life, one of abundance! And of grace, and mercy, and true joy. He has given me a reason to rejoice, so why am I crying? Why is it hard to get out of bed? And to stop taking my anxiousness out on my husband, and kids?

Because, well, life. These walls. This home schooling. This solo existence. I thank God for the ways he continues to use me to reach out to the hurting, and the homeless, and the weary. It gives me such enjoyment, and its like fresh air in my lungs. But then everyone walks off in their own direction, and the sound of silence is loud in my ears again.

The truth is that I am no less of a human, or a Christian for that matter, for having this cloud above my head right now. For breaking down and admitting that I miss the normal. I miss my Sunday school class. I miss my work family. I miss worshiping with my church family. I miss my quirky pastor.

I miss normal.

But still I say, look, surely my God is doing a new thing. He shows me that everyday. He gives me a reason to smile, even when it hurts a little. He is the lifter of my head off of my pillow, and the refresher of my soul, even in the desert. I will sing his praises, even when no one is around to hear them. I will thank him for restoring my mind, and rejoice for the dear friends he has given me who love me during my brokenness, and refuse to stay silent as they hear me utter the words, "It's been hard."

Dedicated to Hannah, for her prayer that touched my heart tonight, and the rest of my small group family.