I don’t have any immediate plans for another show.  However, I’ll be certain to post the information here if another opportunity arises.  Until then,  peace. 

Find it here.

Mostly I’m attempting to update my webiste and the football game happens to be on as my mom makes a snack in the kitchen which happens to be not far from my nose.

This weekend we decided to tear up the thirty-plus-year-old carpet in our living room.  We managed (just my parents and I) to move a piano, organ, three couches, and numerous other items back and forth across the floor as Dad cut the carpet in pieces.  We rolled each section up and carried it outside through the snow to our van.  The least fun part was the fiberglass pad underneath the ancient carpet.  The most fun part was rearranging the furnature to open up the floor space.  I enjoy rearranging furnature.  Space Engineering. 

On Thanksgiving this year my Dad asked me to take some portraits for the family’s website.  It turned into a regular zoo as the extended family members each were given an opportunity for a family photo.  At the very end I called all 27 people together for a group shot and miraculously managed to fit everyone … and you could still see their faces.  Hmm…. space engineering again?  It was fun.

We worked outside for about 15 minutes when tiny, round balls of snow began falling gently around us.  The balls began gradually growing larger, the wind blowing harder.  We continued working.  My jeans became soaked on one side where the wind was blowing and my fingers grew cold through my damp gloves.  Then the balls became large flakes that landed softly as the wind abated.  We continued working.  We only had so much daylight before winter weather arrived full force.  At this point I expected my pleasant attitude to take cues from my body and gradually grow cold.  It didn’t.  The longer we worked outside, the higher my spirits rose until we finished most of the raking that needed to be done and Dad declared, “Let’s go inside.”

I don’t know what made working in wet, freezing conditions so delightful.  Perhaps it was the purpose that motivated my spirits.  Perhaps it was the time I was able to spend working with my Dad.  Perhaps it was just the cake I enjoyed at church this morning.    Whatever the reason, I came inside feeling … accomplished, somehow.

I have never experienced depression.  Certainly I have had my sad moments, lonely days and lethargic attitudes; but the true depths of despair and hopelessness, pain and overwhelming loneliness have never touched my soul.  Nevertheless, I have observed and felt the effects of depression in some of my dearest loved ones and friends.  Consequently I seem to constantly fight the Darkness behind the condition and eagerly seek scriptural Truths to contradict the enemy’s lies.

This week I found some such truths in Psalm 77.  Now, I did not do any historical or cultural research on this passage.  I cannot tell you what the words mean in Hebrew, if there are any idioms and what they might mean.  All I know is what I observed and felt as I read Asaph’s words.

I didn’t notice at first what the psalm was about until I read verse 10:

And I said, “This is my anguish; but I will remember the years of the right hand of the Most High.”

The psalmist in the previous 9 verses was recounting how much his soul was in anguish and could not be comforted, no matter how desperately he cried out to God.  He questions God’s involvement, even His love of His chosen people.  Suddenly in verse 10 the writer gives himself the equivilent of a reality check.  This may indeed be my terrible heartache and the anguish of my soul, he declares to the world, but I WILL REMEMBER what the Most High God has done for me. Now isn’t that the essence of overcoming depression?  Choosing to, in the face of all that hurts and the weight that seems immovable, look upon the face and the actions of your Redeemer?  The psalmist shows us how it can be done; and though he does not conclude that his depression and anguish vanish in the wake of his proclamation of God’s good works, the reader feels the focus change.  No longer am I looking at the emptiness and loneliness of a soul searching for an absent God.  All I can see is the loving arm of a father holding tightly and carefully guiding His beloved children.  It is not so much that the depression is eradicated.  The focus has changed.

When I arrived home from Israel this June, I immediately began working as a nanny for two different families.   Today was my last day with one of them, as their little boy will be entering pre-school on Monday.  Next week I will begin working full time for the other family, taking care of their little 6-month-old boy from 8:45-5:30 every day.  I’ve committed to work for this family until next November.  That means I will be living here, in Ithaca, for one whole year.  And after that?  Only Jesus knows at this point.  But I am satisfied with that.  I know He will clue me in when the time is right.  Until then, I’ll be doing the nanny thing.