It's not what you think...

I’m not given to the blues, but here I am, the second December in a row, teetering at the edge.

It was easy to understand last year. Major surgeries in October and December followed by challenging recoveries left me discouraged, weary, fatigued, and lonely. I had a right to be depressed I was told. Even if that were true, I knew that what pushed me into darkness wasn’t what seemed obvious to others.

{I'm guest posting over at Diane Bailey's for The Consilium - won't you join me there for the rest of the story?}

After the battle::looking up {a December photo essay}

December 4







December 5 {Day before surgery}









December 12 {First day to sit outside with my camera since surgery December 6th}







December 14





December 18










December 27 {First day to walk around outside with a camera since surgery}



















December 30

Two major surgeries in two months just before Christmas might have been more than this not-as-strong-and-young-as-she-thought-she-is me should have considered.

I was prepared for pain, but not the brittle emotions and the darkness that steals joy and veils the beauty of Christmas. My throat would burn as I choked back tears and counted more griefs than gifts.

But that battle with the blues has waned, and as I knew He would - for He withholds no good thing, God showed me where I'm weak and where He wants me to grow, and how He will be my strength.

How lovely is your dwelling place,
O Lord of hosts!
My soul longs, yes, faints
for the courts of the Lord;
my heart and flesh sing for joy
to the living God.
Even the sparrow finds a home,
and the swallow a nest for herself,
where she may lay her young,
at your altars, O Lord of hosts,
my King and my God.
Blessed are those who dwell in your house,
ever singing your praise! Selah
Blessed are those whose strength is in you,
in whose heart are the highways to Zion.
As they go through the Valley of Baca
they make it a place of springs;
the early rain also covers it with pools.
They go from strength to strength;
each one appears before God in Zion.
O Lord God of hosts, hear my prayer;
give ear, O God of Jacob! Selah
Behold our shield, O God;
look on the face of your anointed!
For a day in your courts is better
than a thousand elsewhere.
I would rather be a doorkeeper in the house of my God
than dwell in the tents of wickedness.
For the Lord God is a sun and shield;
the Lord bestows favor and honor.
No good thing does he withhold
from those who walk uprightly.
O Lord of hosts,
blessed is the one who trusts in you! Psalm 84 ESV

To you I lift up my eyes,
O you who are enthroned in the heavens!
Psalm 123:1

So I'm battling the blues...

I'm not one to write from a place of melancholy, but after this second surgery, it's where I've been hanging out.

Please don't feel sorry for me. My head and my heart know it's just a season, and all I have to do is read the Psalms to know I'm in good company.

Sometimes we bring the blues on ourselves, and to be honest, I can entertain negative thoughts and lies in a proverbial woe-is-me party until I wander right into a pit of doom.

Sometimes we can hang onto hope while the circumstances of life push us in the pit's direction until a "last straw" shoves us over the edge.

Or maybe we've been walking on sunshine when a boulder drops out of nowhere and pancakes our faces into the dirt.

Whatever. It happens. Even, and especially, at Christmas.

Two years ago, I won a story writing contest at Joe Bunting's The Write Practice. The contest theme that month was Winter Solstice, so I wrote about Christmas. My story (a true story that was eventually published in an anthology a year later) was The Worst Christmas Ever. 

One reader had this say about my worst Christmas story: It's such a beautiful story because it doesn't try to be beautiful, just to be real.

One of my sons called yesterday afternoon - concerned about me and my struggling with the blues facebook status a few days ago. It's not like me to be blue or to be so open about it in social media. I'm just trying to be real, and the truth is that it not only makes it possible for others to encourage and pray for me when they know my needs, but it motivates others to find the courage to be real as well. 

I love the Body of Christ. When the feet hurt, our hands massage them. When the heart hurts, the mouth speaks words of truth and life. When we fall into a pit, the arms lift us up. Thank you, Jesus, for your Church.

So I'm battling the blues, but the shade's not as dark as it was a few days ago. And I ask God, what are you trying to show me in this season? God is good and He is faithful. I know that He will show me, and I know that it will be for my good.

Before going into the hospital, I scheduled Advent posts for the following week. I've been tempted to schedule all 25 days, but I realized a couple of days ago that God is using the simple act of preparing the next day's post with a photo and scripture to speak truth and life into my soul. It's a little thing, but it's a daily infusion of truth that opens a window to light.

Where are you this Christmas? Does it feel like the worst or the best Christmas ever?  If it feels like the worst, I understand. My advice to both of us is to be real. Let's not hide our pain, but share it with those in the Body of Christ we trust to hold our hearts gently and to speak words of life into our souls. 

My our lives be infused with Gospel truth that redeems and restores.

Arise, shine, for your light has come,
and the glory of the Lord has risen upon you.
Isaiah 60.1