Ministry. What can I say? There is a certain comradery among ministry folk. They take care of each other. At least that is how it was for us.
It was a beautiful thing the way someone would pop in with a box of groceries, or a pile of kids clothes that were perfect for my children. We, too, tried to encourage other ministry people.
I’ll never forget the phone call that one of our friends had suffered a stroke at age thirty-nine. This particular friend worked in an office of a non-profit. My husband spent days unraveling the mess he left behind . . .computer information that could not be accessed because no one else knew his passwords, for example.
So that’s what we did. We did church camps, Bible schools, helped build churches. And I prayed, and read my Bible and tried to be thankful for everything.
Looking back, I can see that my moods started to plunge long, long before I had my first full-blown episode.
I can remember a sweet friend asking me how I was at church. I burst into tears. I didn’t know why.
About this time we decided, again, to move. We had two small children and a third one on the way and even though our ministry friends were great, our income was sporadic at best.
We’d go back to my hometown and Hubby would get a job that would pay the bills and help out at the church I’d grown up in. My kidlets would get to know my parents. It would be perfect.
Yes. And the sadness that had been plaguing me was probably due to us being away from family and our financial problems. We were going to be fine, just fine.
For a little while we were fine, just fine. I had our third child, a gorgeous little girl with a full head of dark hair. I didn’t tell anybody how I’d have these disturbing thoughts that she was going to fall off the changing table or slip under the bath water. I was super careful with her. To this day I don’t know if I had a touch of postpartum depression or not, but it’s very possible.
Discontentment started to boil up inside me. Restlessness. Unhappiness. I could not pinpoint the source, but I tried. I found one of my old friends and we sat for hours discussing my unhappiness. Finally she told me what she thought I needed to do: kick Hubby to the curb.
Well. That was the end of that friendship and a really good life lesson for me. Don’t say anything about your husband behind his back that you wouldn’t say to his face.
I decided that I would positive think my way out of this dilemma. Along with this attitude change came an incredible surge of energy. I cleaned like a banshee. I lost weight because all I ate was spinach and the occasional hamburger. ( Hey, I wasn’t hungry! Eating was too hard!)
That song, Walking on Sunshine, by Katrina and the Waves? That's how I felt. I was alive! Beautiful! Happy! I forgot all about being discontent. I forgot about being irritated at Hubby, at other people. If they didn't like me . . .that was their problem! So happy!
I’d never been a big shopper, but suddenly I developed a lot of pleasure finding beautiful things. I bought presents for people just because.
I remember feeling oh-so-charming. I called up aquaintances forgotten and made a fool of myself, I’m sure.
I flirted shamelessly with Hubby . . .overwhelmed him with kisses.
Years later I asked him how he felt about that version of me. He said “I just wanted my wife back.”
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