Held the hands of God
My husband went through depression at least twice during our marriage. I had post-partum depression several times and clinical depression treated with therapy and medication once during our marriage and again after he died. There have also been days of sadness and times of sorrow that didn’t delve as deep or last as long.
My children have been through hilly emotional times, especially after my husband died, but before that, as well. They’ve all been caterpillars who think they know what they are, who suddenly morph into puberty and emotional goo. It’s a struggle to figure out who you are, once you realize Mom and Dad are not the only way to be. Most of them have come out the other side, as butterflies and colorful moths, all different and all beautiful, with their own strengths. Some of them are now in the gooey middle phase, where short stubby legs are trying to become wings. Their small childish bodies are stretching and growing suddenly much stronger and hairier. It’s baffling, this change. Mom and Dad try to provide security and hope, but they say crazy things like, “You can do it!”, not clarifying what IT they mean, and “We have faith in you”. Faith that children will do what? And if parents do give orders, or even clear instructions, children question. Is that the best way? Is that the direction I want to go? You, child, have to find your own way. Not only do Mom and Dad not know what you’ll become, they actively ask you! As if the child knows!
I’m grateful for hope. My parents have kept going, over hill and over dale, through changes of place and employment, raising seven children and then helping their children with their families. My parents have been really good, in my experience, at teaching correct principles, as they knew them, and then letting us children choose for ourselves. They supported my husband’s decision to serve in the military, though it left me at home with six children for a year. They helped us clean out houses and pack boxes several times. My dad built benches for us and helped remodel our East Liverpool house. They foresaw some of their children’s problems, but didn’t condemn and instead, helped with recovery afterwards. I’m sure they winced a lot, thinking about our choices. I’m wincing now, thinking about some of my children’s choices. But they kept going.
They knew that the objective of life is not to have an easy time, not to get rich, not to own the most stuff, not to be in charge. They knew, and, I think, learned from each other and from their parents’ examples, good and bad, that life is best lived with people, the children of God. Relationships are important. But they also knew that sticking to good principles leads to better relationships, and to the end of bad relationships.
They kept praying. They didn’t try to do life alone. They held the hands of God.
