Making a difference in the world as a SAHM

If you've been reading this blog for awhile, you know that the intrusive thoughts I had during postpartum depression led to a more lasting struggle with the problem of evil.  To this day, I can't read about anything (ANYTHING) sad or bad happening to anyone without putting myself in the shoes of the victim or the victim's mother.  In my younger days, I sometimes got into intellectual discussions with my friends mourning how the media had caused us to be so desensitized to the evil and suffering in this world.  Well, here I am, no longer desensitized, and it's pretty depressing (just regular-life-is-terrible-depressing, not clinically-I-need-therapy-depressing).

The good news is that I finally got to the point where I wasn't just mad at God (although I still have a lot of questions for Him), but I wanted to do something about it.  However, I didn't want to compromise my primary role as a SAHM, and as any SAHM can tell you, there is a lot of free time during the day, but it's difficult to use that time productively because it's fragmented.  The minute you think you might have enough time to, say, use the restroom, your older child will decide she MUST have that one toy that is buried in the back of the closet NOW, or your older child will kick the younger child, or the younger child will fall over and bang her head on the floor, and it's all over...window of opportunity is GONE.

So anyway, I have a good friend who spent some time as a medical missionary in a developing country, and I sent her this silly question:

"What can I do to help besides giving money (already do), or adoption (would like to, but don't have the immediate money for it), or going out somewhere to volunteer (because my priority is still to be at home)?"

I was pretty sure she was going to write back and say, "ummm...with all your limitations, I'm pretty sure there is NOTHING you can do to help.  Get back to me in five years when your kids are in school."  But my friend, she surprised me with her answer.  "You can PRAY," she said.  Money and other physical resources always help, but a lot of kids are suffering in ways in which physical provision can only do so much.  These children need God's love and protection, and our prayers!

Well, duh, why didn't I think of that myself?  I think it's because I didn't think praying was really doing something, and I didn't think it would make a REAL difference.  During one phase of my depression, I went on a prayer strike because I was mad at God and was questioning the purpose of prayer.  Well, I still have a lot of questions, but in the meantime, I've been praying for the beautiful, beautiful children at the Butterfly Children's Hospice.  If you are a SAHM looking for a way to make a difference in the world with the limitations of being a SAHM, would you please pray with me for these children, or for whatever hurting people God puts on your heart?  Just take one Facebook break out of your day and replace it with a prayer!

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Searching for Theodicy

When I was in college, I took a brief interest in Christian apologetics - defending the faith through objective and rational arguments.  I thought at the time that it was important for winning people over to Christ.  I then realized that no one (no one!) is ever converted through rational debate.  You could debate an atheist until you are blue in the face, and s/he wouldn't budge an inch.  Faith is not something that can be won through an argument but is the work of God.

Image: Stuart Miles

So for awhile, I thought apologetics was just for people who wanted to argue and that it really wasn't worth my time.  I'm now realizing that apologetics is not just for defending the faith but also for encouraging believers.  Apologetics is, in essence, theology in different clothing, and good theology is vital to our faith.

I don't label myself as having postpartum depression/anxiety/intrusive thoughts anymore, but I still bear the scars.  I recently became lax about staying away from the news, and I read some news articles that shook me to the core.  I was awake almost the rest of the night doubting God's goodness, wrestling with my faith, wondering if I could even call myself a Christian anymore.

That night, I came across the term "theodicy" for the first time, which is basically an attempt to answer the problem of evil.  I think I know deep down that a true theodicy doesn't exist -- as in, there may be logical arguments for the existence of evil, but those arguments will never resolve the pain caused by evil or make it obvious that God had no choice but to allow this world to become as broken as it is.  I'm okay with that - I don't presume to think that I as a human being could ever have the same perspective as God does.  But I also think it's important to strengthen my faith with good theology.  My friend recommended Ravi Zacharias, so I'm looking to get one of his books soon.

And how did I end up getting to sleep that night?  I prayed.  Even when I doubt Him, God is my comforter.

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Fear and Theology

Although I no longer suffer from intrusive thoughts, I still suffer from one of the after-effects...fear.  The intrusive thoughts awakened in me a fear of the pain and evils in this world that I didn't know before.  I continue to struggle with trusting God with my family and having peace.  This has been a time in my life where I've learned the importance of clinging to what I know to be true, rather than what I feel.  I choose to believe that God is good, even though I still feel fear in my heart, and sometimes that is the best I can do.

Image: Louisa Stokes

 I recently came across a blog where a man powerfully describes his choice to believe in God's goodness in the midst of a terrible circumstance.  He talks about the importance of good theology when dealing with difficult circumstances ("Theology is not for the intellectuals, those in the ministry, and those with too much time on their hands. Theology is for those with guns to their heads.")  He talks about the heartbreaking decision to "disown his children" during this trial (they are God's, not his) and that in disowning his children and all he held dear, he was able to be "invincible."

If I were ever in a situation where I had to make the same decision, I'm afraid my heart would break open and never be fixed.  Actually, I'm sure I don't have the courage to make such a decision now, but I believe God will give me the courage if and when the time comes.  If you are in the same situation where you are confronting fear in your life, I hope this man's courage will also give you courage to keep trusting God.

Read about what happened here (don't worry, no one was physically harmed).
Read about his powerful response here.

And please pray for the Sturms!

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The mask I wear

It starts as soon as they begin to speak.  The first time my daughter said, "No Grandma!" I immediately shushed her.  We must be polite to others!  And she learned to be polite, but she also learned to put on her first, little mask.

Image: Adell Rucke

Later, we learn that the mask not only protects others but also protects us - from the rejection that might happen if others knew our deepest fears, our inner sufferings, our greatest dreams.  So we put the mask on a little more frequently.  And it starts to feel more comfortable, so that this mask, which was meant to hide who I really am, becomes a part of me.  I don't even have to put it on anymore because it's always there.

Sometimes when I talk to other people, I wonder, what's behind that mask?  Does she ever feel unsure of herself?  Does she wonder what the purpose of her life is?  Does she sometimes just want to run away?  Sometimes, there's a small, very small crack - just a faint look in the eye or a falter in the smile.  But most of the time, the mask is seamless, airtight.

When I started this blog, I wanted to take off my mask so that other women would have the courage to take their's off, too.  Because I have all this sadness, guilt, frustration, and anger that just wants to get out of me, but there's also love, sacrifice, joy, and beauty inside of me, too.  The mask keeps it all in and only lets out a sterile version of me.

But when I sit down to write what I really want to say, I start censoring myself immediately.  I don't want to make so-and-so feel bad.  I don't want my kids to read this someday and misinterpret what I mean.  I don't want to discourage my brothers and sisters in Christ.  I don't want to dishonor God.  Raw is good but raw can also be hurtful.  And by the time I'm done writing, I've written something with a lot of inspiration but very little of my heart left.

Don't get me wrong, I love inspiration.  But how do we also be real with each other?  How do we take our masks off without killing each other?  Maybe as long as we live in this broken world with our broken hearts, we can't.  So for now, I'll keep this mask on.  Because it holds together my brokenness.  And it keeps me from trampling on you and breaking you more than you already are.

So...all this is a very long and dramatic way of saying that I might be changing the content and format of my blog soon.  I'm just so tired of struggling.  What about you?  Are you comfortable with your mask?  Or do you wish you could take it off every once in awhile, let your heart breathe a little?

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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.

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Visions for the new year

When I was in college, I attended a talk where the speaker was casting a vision for the new year.  I don't remember the speaker or the vision, but I remember how he defined vision:

the intoxicating dream that hurls you into pursuit of that reality

I think this wins the prize for packing the most number of loaded words into one definition.  Intoxicating.  Dream.  Hurls.  Pursuit.  Reality.

Image: Salvatore Vuono

I'm extremely grateful for the ways I was challenged in college to pursue a radical lifestyle and for books like Crazy Love and Don't Waste Your Life.  However, sometimes I feel that I have only been equipped to live a life full of adventure, travel, physical hardship for the sake of God's glory, and if I am honest with myself, personal glory.  But I have been ill-equipped to live a quiet life with little to no personal glory or adventure.  Lately, I am in need of inspiration more along the lines of:

• Contentment with leading a quiet life
• Joy in the midst of boredom
• The work of Christ in domestic matters (if there is such a thing)
• Laying down your life for your husband and children
• Toddler evangelism

These are my "visions" for how I will eventually grow as a wife and mother.  More sobering than intoxicating.  And moving at a reluctant snail's pace rather than hurled into pursuit.

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How Depression Affected My Prayer Life

Soon after I had my second child, there was a famine in Africa.  There's been a famine in Africa for as long as I can remember, but this one was bad enough to make it to the news.  While struggling with intrusive thoughts, I lost the desensitivity that allowed me to read about suffering and then move on to celebrity gossip without blinking an eye.  I heard that some starving babies didn't even have the strength to cry, and it made me depressed for bringing my babies into such a sad and painful world.  I purposefully avoided the news so that I wouldn't read about it or see any pictures about it. 

I had the same one-sided conversation with God every day, "How could you give life to so many people and then just leave them to suffer, starve, and die?"  I felt foolish for trivial prayers over my kids' sleeping or eating habits.  I stopped praying for myself or for my kids and prayed only for Africa.  If God wasn't going to do something about a cross-continent famine, why would He care about making my domestic life easier?  I thought I would go ahead and do Him the favor of removing those prayers from His Queue so that He wouldn't have to toss them out Himself.

Honestly, I kinda thought that my life would be the same whether or not I prayed, but my prayer strike taught me that prayer is about more than giving God my wish list.  I found myself with a weightier load on my shoulders.  I was less sensitive to sin creeping into my life.  I became more self-centered.  I still don't have a satisfactory answer to the problem of unanswered prayer, but I learned that prayer is about more than just getting what I ask for.  I still pray for Africa, but I also pray for my kids, myself, and other people now, too.  I try to focus less on asking for things and more on giving my burdens over to God.

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Medicating with Will Ferrell

During the time when we were sleep training my daughter, she often took short naps lasting only 15-20 minutes.  She was a ticking time bomb that kept me on edge even when she was asleep.  During this period, my sister sent me two DVDs to help pass my time, and I watched them in short spurts over several naps.  What I didn't expect was the deep feeling of dread and disappointment I had when each movie ended.  I could almost feel my heart physically dropping in my chest when the credits rolled.  Both movies are great but not cinematic masterpieces (Baby Mama and Stranger Than Fiction), but I became incredibly engrossed in them because they provided an escape from reality.

His girlfriend left him for an actuary.

With the end of each movie, I was forced to face the depression, the stress, and the anxiety again.  I felt kind of pathetic for being depressed at the end of a movie, but if there's no shame in taking antidepressants, then I suppose there should be no shame for anesthetizing with Will Ferrell.  So many activities in life are just distractions from reality: TV, blogs, Facebook.  I've found that self-reflection is often the biggest enemy of someone struggling with depression, and sometimes these superficial distractions are what keep us going.

On the other hand, I'm not sure God wants us to medicate with media.  I suspect the only things keeping Him from yanking these superficialities out of our lives are His gentle mercy and patience.  I hope one day I will be able to come face to face with my depression and offer it up to God in exchange for a deeper understanding of His grace and abundance.  For now, I'm acutely aware of the depression lurking in the corner of the room, but I only have the courage to look at it askance, trying on most days to just pretend it's not there.

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Mental health and faith

People with mental health struggles (depression, panic attacks, OCD, etc.) are often encouraged to pray for God's healing in their struggles.  Pray for joy instead of depression.  Pray for peace instead of anxiety.  Pray for trust instead of fear.  I completely agree that we should pray to God for healing and grace in these areas.

Image: graur razvan ionut / FreeDigitalPhotos.net

However, our focus is often on how our faith can positively impact our mental health struggles, and we don't often discuss how our mental health struggles impact our faith.  PPD and intrusive thoughts, specifically, were destructive to my faith.

The scary thoughts I was having on a daily basis forced me to confront "the problem of evil" in a very personal way.  As soon as I gave birth to my first child, I knew that I would do anything to protect her from fear or harm.  So why did God not protect us from all the fear and harm in this world?  Instead of helping me to understand God's unconditional love, having a child actually made me question it.

Happiest robot on the block.

The problem of evil has been one of God's PR problems for a long time, and I know what the correct Christian responses are to these questions.  But sometimes knowing the correct answers don't keep your heart from asking the questions.  Hint:  The correct answers have something to do with "free will" and "It's not about me, it's about God's glory."  Call me crazy, but I'd rather be a happy, little robot than to live in a world full of broken people with free will.  (Unfortunately, have yet to find proof that this world is actually all about me.)

My faith struggles resulted in something that I hope no other Christian has to experience.  I started to fear that God would punish me for my thoughts.  I would lie there at night having waking nightmares about terrible things happening to me or my baby, and I would think, "God is going to punish me for having these fears by making these things come true."  I wanted to fly away, to hide my thoughts from God, but I knew I could not.  Writing these words, I am filled with a deep sense of sadness for how a relationship that was supposed to bring light to my life actually filled me with a dark and dreadful fear.

Although the intrusive thoughts have lessened, they awakened in me an awareness of evil and resulting fear that I have not been able to shake.  The apostle John wrote, "There is no fear in love.  But perfect love drives out fear, because fear has to do with punishment.  The one who fears is not made perfect in love."  Oh how I long for the day of my perfection!


Droid Image: Ben Jacobson

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Postpartum depression and trusting God

The thought that my postpartum anxiety might never go away was a devastating thought to me.  Imagine being anxious about a whole host of things related to your newborn child, and then on top of that, being anxious about the anxiety itself.  Now, you might ask at this point where my good Christian faith was.  And I will be honest.  I did not want to have faith that God would to heal me.

Image: dan / FreeDigitalPhotos.net

Notice I did not lack faith that God could heal me.  I never questioned his ability to do so.*  He is all-powerful.  He can do anything.  And that is what scared me.  He could heal me.  Or He could not.  And if I trusted Him for healing but it was somehow part of His comic plan for me to suffer like this for the rest of my life, I don't think I could have handled that disappointment.  So I protected myself and did not let myself hope that things would get better.

I haven't always been such a spiritual cynic.  In the past, I would pray with great faith for others.  You had a falling out with your friend?  I'll pray for love and healing.  You just survived a natural disaster?  I'll pray for emotional healing and the rebuilding of your home.  But in the end, I was still in my nice, cozy bed in my nice, air-conditioned house living my nice, first-world life.  I also prayed through major life decisions.  God, please provide a job for me.  But if I don't get a job, I'll just move back home.  There was always an out in the past.  When it really came time to trust God with my life, I was too scared to.

*I'm not advocating that anyone pray themselves out of postpartum depression.  I believe that God can heal us of anything but that He may use medicine, counseling, or other resources to aid in that healing.

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