How it all (sort of) ends

When I was in the midst of my postpartum anxiety, I feared that the daily panic attacks would affect my physical health.  The anxiety and stress were so intense and frequent that I could not imagine overcoming them.  I felt that my only hope would be a divine intervention - a miraculous healing or perhaps a certain Bible verse that would provide instant peace.

Image: Sura Nualpradid

And...nothing of the sort happened.  I got better over time, but there was no trigger or moment that I can point to as the start of the healing.  I no longer have daily panic attacks or intrusive thoughts, but I'm still susceptible to both.  Depression does not characterize my state of being, but it is still a familiar friend.

We give praise when God blesses with discrete changes in circumstance or emotional state (I was sick, and He healed me.  I was laid off, and He provided a job for me.  Bonus to anyone who gets engaged in the process.).  And rightly we should give praise to God for those blessings.  But sometimes our struggles in life do not have an identifiable turning point and resolution.

I read the poem Footprints in the Sand for the first time when I was in elementary school.  In my 8-year-old mind, it was the most inspired and beautiful piece of poetry that had ever been written.  I aspired to have a copy hanging in my house some day.  HGTV has since taught me that my house should be filled with gallery photos and pop art rather than cheesy Christian poetry, but I was reminded of the truth of that poem during my "dark night of the soul."   To be sure, in my darkest times, I felt alone, but even deeper than that feeling of aloneness was the security that no matter how much fear or anxiety filled my heart, no matter how much I doubted God's love and goodness, no matter how much I ignored Him, He would not abandon me.  Sometimes He doesn't "show up" the way we want Him to, but He's still there.