I promised to dive into the rest of the Haiti story, but my heart led me to write this first. I was waning in my drive to write sooner because I can’t write if my heart isn’t inspired to do so. Instead, I’m going to return a bit to my main theme. I want to share with you my latest prayer ministry. Being a rather slow writer, whose most significant accomplishment before this blog, was torturing my high school teachers with book reports; and cleverly worded “pay or die” letters for our family-owned site development company. Upcoming topics will include the rest of the Haiti story Farm days with a message growing up in a generation that added so much but is sadly largely forgotten.
So today, we’re talking about prayer bombs. I got this analogy from a WWII story about an unsung American hero named Gail Halverson. He started an offshoot of the post-WWII “Operation Vittles.” In Operation Vittles, US cargo planes flew food and supplies into West Berlin. The Soviets blocked allied access over land in an attempt to “starve” the population into giving up their freedom under allies. One pilot, after meeting some of the starving children at the nearby airbase, soliciting for any food they could get became what was known as the “candy bomber.” Click on the links for more details. It is a story of redemption and forgiveness that started with the heart of what America stood for. While many of these pilots were, probably just a few years before, bombing Berlin into submission, they were now engaged in the heart of God’s grace with many orphaned children getting something they haven’t had in years, compassion, and something sweet. Gail was also known as Uncle Wiggly Wings. Flying over a crowd of children, he would wiggle the wings on his plane. This way, the kids knew the chocolate bars and goodies were to soon fall out of the bomber. Oh, how these bombs were so different than ones falling just three years earlier, killing their parents and siblings.
After some tears of my own, I decided that maybe there are some struggling souls (many close friends of mine) who battle depression and physical health challenges that make mine pale in comparison. A few months ago, I hopped into my prayer plane jalopy (also known as texting). I decided that in addition to my daily personal prayers, I would “drop little prayer bombs “every now and then, to give some compassion and hope and maybe a little sweet encouragement to those who need it. My hope is that I can relate and convey hope. Those German kids needed just that, and the candy bars were a bonus. No one suffered like those little kids in my, and maybe your darkest weakest hour; we’ll be lifted as well.
So, I guess now that I’m over my last bout of depression, I can write about depression. That doesn’t make sense, does it? When I need to be cheery on a beautiful Sunday afternoon in Florida, I choose to write about something that sounds more like Edgar Allan Poe’s “Pit and the Pendulum,” and he was depressed most of his writing career.
Here goes, from my vantage point, I can only speak to what I’m dealing with. First, it’s not like having a bad day. I could shake that off, and when things went totally wrong, I’d laugh after my fit of anger and a cursory barrage of F-bombs and say Lord what next the locusts and frogs? No, this is like being between the reality of the past and being like a spectator in the present. People want to help, give advice, ask how you are feeling and console you, then move on in their hectic and plugged-in world, and you’re not. You wish someone would understand and give you the magic words that will snap you out of it and put things back where they were (only the good stuff, though). I generally accept that even the most well-meaning folks can’t do that for me.
My Christian Shrink is good and suggested I write this blog, so I am. He thinks I have some talent in this, but rest assured I won’t be a New York Times best-selling author, any time soon. I like to tell it like it is and enjoy sarcasm and earthy humor, and that’s how I write as long as my wife edits it so that it is somewhat readable.
A big help in my coping is a new dog we have named bear – we didn’t give him that name; it was given to him by his previous master, who died and was given to the ASPCA. With God inspiring my 16-year old son to adopt him after our last dog Teddy died in his arms while my wife and I were at the hospital getting a post-stroke stress test on my heart. Bear pesters me to play fetch with him and is my constant companion. I recommend a dog for a companion in the battle with depression. He doesn’t ask tough questions, just looks up at me with his eyes and a wag of his tail, and says, “let’s play ball,” no matter the weather.
After the stroke, I had a bit of depression, and my general practitioner prescribed anti-depressants. Following that advice was my first mistake. I had a reaction, and it sent me into an unannounced and somewhat violent seizure, and never in my life had I had this happen. I would look like a freshly caught bass flopping around on the bottom of a johnboat. After the 2nd bout of seizures, they did a DNA test and found out that I am prone to these reactions with the medication they prescribed. They fiddled around with dosages and different types and treating me like a science experiment. Nobody knows what the deal is, but going through seizures, losing some of my peripheral vision on my left side, left me not able to drive safely.
Very quickly, I went from a hard-charging go for the gold guy to suddenly sidelined, and I am now a virtual prisoner in my house occasionally going out to church, bible study, and the dollar menu at McDonald’s. Don’t get me wrong, it could be so much worse, and I pray each morning for those who have it much worse than I and that with thanks to God for my blessings, lifts me. I ask God the really tough question. What do you want me to do now? I feel like I just landed on the moon, wondering how I got here. I cry out to God, not for mercy and things, but how can I serve and be useful. The answer here to date has not been forthcoming, or my depression has shut my ears. I know God is there, but I don’t understand what he wants me to do. Isaiah 55:8 states, “For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways, declares the Lord” this gives me an excellent default for unanswered prayers or answers I don’t hear. But being an impatient and get it done kind of guy God’s not fast enough for me. I got Kingdom stuff to do. Don’t put me on the bench now! I also know that you must wait upon the Lord and give the battle to the Lord or, as an old business mentor, Walter told me when I was going through a rough stretch, “If you got a problem too big to solve, give it to someone else. He was an old school hard-nosed Irishman. I’m doing precisely that and letting God handle the stuff he won’t let me do myself, and he’s got “the juice,” to smite anything, just ask the Egyptians.
However, staring down creditors and the more personal ones with old relationships that you owe and are struggling to pay is not a prescription for a depression cure. Fortunately, and through truth and communication, the situation, with God in the middle, makes it more tolerable. The corporate greedheads who have made much off of me over the years, I treat with dignity to the worker bees and play hardball with lawyers and bullies. They can take everything sometimes but never your dignity, so in the end, the corporations are just a thing, not another child of God. Don’t get me wrong; you should always pay your bills, but if you have never been in business and on the writing end of paychecks, you may want to withhold judgment on tough life choices.
I remember one time we weren’t going to make payroll unless we let a check bounce to the Florida Dept of Revenue for sales tax. I’m staring at a parking lot full of wives and their kids waiting on those paychecks before our truck drivers returned from a grueling 10-12-hour day on the road. They live paycheck to paycheck, and there wasn’t any “oh sorry we just ran out of money could you wait until Monday when we got more money or borrow some? No, I did what I thought was the right thing to do on a difficult choice. That next day the FDOR got a warrant for my arrest for a bad check, and I was arrested in my own office and hauled off to county jail. In the holding room with me, I had the company of several fellow citizens who made tough choices, one for child support he didn’t get in on time by a week another for bouncing a $40 check to Publix for groceries to feed his family until payday. Friends this was 30 years ago, and nothing has changed, it is the way of the world. I got bailed out that night, but not before I had to take a ride with others of my criminality along with robbers and thugs AND plucked out of the holding room just before I was to be issued an orange jumpsuit and sent out onto the floor with the real bad guys. Never was I so happy to see my oldest son on that day with bail money. I made the check good the following week but had to serve 3 months’ probation. Once again, an angel, in the form of my longtime attorney and friend, Charles, had the whole thing expunged from my record. I guess this blog revealed that, but I don’t care I never feared the truth, and as Jesus said, “the truth will set you free.”
You see my brothers and sisters in depression; it can always be worse no matter what the injustices and persecution may be. I’m not feeling the pure joy of persecution and suffering that the Apostle Paul speaks of, but I don’t dwell on it either, this is where the Devil will destroy you.
How do I know Jesus has almighty power? Recently as I journey through this desert called depression, I had an episode while trying to sleep and trying to medicate myself with tv. I suddenly was overcome with sweat, chills, and severe headache and a bad taste in my mouth, and I thought maybe I was going to have another seizure. But this was different; I felt a cloud of pure dark evil come upon me and fear and panic. I read scripture earlier in the week about how demons and Satan were cast out in the name of Jesus. I was so panicked and desperate. I blurted out loudly, “IN THE NAME OF JESUS I REBUKE YOU SATAN LEAVE ME AND MY FAMILY ALONE AND BE GONE!” After just a few seconds, the chills went away, the sweat subsided, and the bad taste went away with my next swallow. I was calm and drifted off to sleep to the science channel. I woke up a few hours later and thanked Jesus and the Father for rescuing me. Somewhat more lightheartedly later, I thought, Wow! This stuff works.
Later, still, I remember another episode in my life where the Devil played to my weakness. My first wife and I, were growing passionless in our relationship and we began sharing and comforting each other with food instead of the passion we used to have along with that midlife crisis men have a tendency to experience, I plainly said to know one in particular ‘If I could lose a hundred pounds and be thin again, I’d give $50,000. The Devil was listening. He took the 50k, my business, my wife, and another half-million to boot. My oldest son was left to facing the world from a single-parent household. Well, the Devil kept part of his deal, I lost the hundred pounds got another wife had a beautiful daughter divorced her and landed into the wonderful person I’m married to now. Out of the Devil imposed chaos, a lot of help was given to me from a great young country bible preaching pastor named Ken Wagstaff, from the Ft. Drum Community Church, a Village Ministry Outreach church. We needed each other He’d ride back to Melbourne with me, and we’d talk about old cars which much to the congregation’s dismay he had several locals under repair on the parsonage front yard and sometimes one he’d own. One morning in worship praise time in this little country church I remember this little bedraggled 12-year-old boy got up in his rural southern accent proudly testified that he thanked the Lord because I quit chewing (tobacco) this week and abruptly sat down with the little congregation breaking into applause and praising God. As time went on, my 2nd wife and I fought more and more, and one night I spent the night sleeping in my truck at the local community dump because I didn’t have anywhere to go. Talk about feeling low. But that is different than now. My 2nd ex and my daughter live in upstate New York, and my daughter, now 28, lives with her taking care of her as she is not well. We still pray for each other, remember the best of what we were to each other, and marvel at how God brings good out of our foolishness.
While I’m on a full disclosure true confession role, my first wife and I before we were married had an abortion right after Roe vs. Wade. We were scared and murdered an innocent little boy. Yes, among other things, I am a murderer and an adulterer. My 1st wife now runs a church offshoot to counsel women who bear the guilt of abortion and works to help them seek redemption for themselves. God has a way of leading us back no matter how bad we are and making the terrible something excellent and Holy. He is an amazing God that I struggle to understand, but I can behold in awe.
Recently I attended a class at my church on discernment and hearing God. We got off on a side trip about Bartimaeus, the blind man Jesus healed on the way to/from Jericho and how he had faith, and Jesus stopped and touched him, and he got his eyesight back. I spoke up and told the class that if we add a little bit to the story that Bartimaeus might have been a successful merchant and lost his livelihood and everything he had and couldn’t provide for his family, well, I’m that guy! Sitting alongside the road my depression is my blindness in addition to the physical loss of some vision and waiting for Jesus to come by and stop to have mercy (not pity) on me and heal me and give me my dignity back like the real healing he did for Bartimaeus, restoring his dignity. Someone from the class complimented me on what an excellent interpretation of the parable I did and how transparent I was about my own life. I replied politely and thanked her, but being open is easy for me because it isn’t what you and others think of me. The truth comes easy, after all. When you do not fear your past or what you are going through right now. This is probably as good of a place as any to inject a long one-liner I have recently composed that helps me stay focused and grounded. I jokingly call it Chapter 1 verse 1 of the non-canonized book of Rick. THE ROAD OF CONVICTION LEADS TO GOD’S GRACE AND IS PAVED WITH REPENTANCE AND WASHED CLEAN OF GUILT WITH THE BLOOD OF JESUS, LIVE LIFE WITH NO REGRETS if I keep telling myself that I can get through another day.
I am chemical free for depression. I’m relying on prayer, discernment of the Holy Spirit, and my always supportive and faithful wife. I’m not cured like Bartimaeus, but I’m coping and accepting my lot. Some people may be able to cope with help from the chemicals; I can’t. Thomas Jefferson said, “Question everything, even the very existence of God” Thomas wouldn’t have made that statement had he at least known the answer was yes to the last part but question everything else that comes from man. Question your doctors and Psychologists. Don’t make them your God but ask God to guide them, use them. Be careful, the world is a minefield, walk with God, and you won’t perish except to journey to a better and safer place.
Next, we’ll get back to Haiti with more to that story with intrigue, tears, and laughter. Kind of Tom Clancy, Samaritans Purse, and the Keystone cops all rolled into one. After that, we may take another stroll down music row with my bazaar and comical performance sketches and some original vintage recordings by Topaz from 1979 (wow! that was 40 years ago. man am I old.) I hope to “talk” to you all soon if I’m not too depressed. 😊
My Counselor suggested that I, in blog terms, encourage you “my tribe” and solicit feedback and insights from my readers. I would love that, and I hope I might connect with you all.
Originally written – 10/18/2018 – 3 months post stroke in a text to my Big Sis
To use a farm analogy it’s like wandering into a corn field and getting lost, because you went too far and lost your bearings and you struggle to find your way out back to home but the more you thrash around the more lost you get. You cry out but no one hears you and you just want to get home and do the chores, and everything be normal again.
I’m just a dead weight that must be cared for by others and I can see that not only is it not fair to them, but it isn’t going to last much longer. No one can pull the wagon I left behind. It’s too much. At least I can tell you these dark things because you were always the big sister that would patiently listen and not judge. Thank you. I love you so much. – Lil Bro
What a great analogy – using the cornfield!!! You nailed it. I’m surprised you remembered that as you were so young when we moved. I love you and please try to keep the faith – Big Sis
Originally Written 11/7/2018 – 4 months post stroke
Just checking in to let you know I’m still kicking. I’m on antidepressants. I’m bored, but not quite as depressed. I’m getting back into going to church and my Monday night men’s bible study. I go with J to the Skate Park so he can do his BMX thing. This is a new one we helped build, so I have a couple of hours sitting time while he rides. I read my bible study stuff and Tom Clancy novel and run numbers on our property to either sell or develop. Alluding to my cornfield analogy I’m out of the corn but I can’t seem to find the farm. If that makes any sense. I’m not where I want to be. I should know in the next 6 months or so whether my vision will come back at all. In general, it’s a waiting game. You know how patient I am. LOL. Take care of yourself. I love you very much, Lil Bro
Who is this great person that I got a VERY encouraging text from!!! OMGosh – I’m SO HAPPY to hear things are getting better for you and your “impatient” self is showing!!! It’s so good to hear you are back at church and bible study. Glad you are taking some meds that help you and there’s encouraging news about your vision. Can you believe it’s been 26 yrs. since Mom has been gone? What a lot of changes and events we’ve been through in all those years! I’m so glad we have each other yet to “be there” in whatever we must deal with.
I don’t know if you remember when we lived on the farm and all the family came to our farm for thanksgiving, but we always wished for our FIRST snow to come then. What the heck happened? I don’t know if you had wacky weather this year but ours has been way off! But determined as farmers are, they finally got the corn and soybeans harvested in spite of all the flooding and I managed to get some good hay for Rascal out of it too. So great to hear from you. I love you very much. – Big Sis.
Originally written November 17, 2018
Just checking in. I’m at the skate park with J and one of his buddy’s. I don’t remember if I told you, but we have a new dog – a 3 yr. old mixed breed, we got from the shelter. He’s trained and we’re training him more. Bear brings a little lightness to our someone gloomy household. He is a good dog, likes to ride in the truck and J has a sleeping companion. I’m just moving along, I feel like I’m a spectator, not a participant in life. Taking the antidepressant meds takes a little of the edge off. But I’m still in the twilight zone between the way things used to be and the way things are. I’m not happy but I accept that this is the way it is and wait for God to give me something worthwhile to do. I’m surrounded by good people and a devoted wife. I pray for you daily and give thanks to the Lord for a sister like you. Love You. – Lil Bro
Originally Written 11/21/2018
Well another night at the skate park. But it gives me time to pray and give thanks for the blessings. You are one of those blessings that I do cherish. Hope your Thanksgiving is peaceful with those memories of the large gatherings and Grandma W. would get huffy if we didn’t eat a dump truck load of her pies and goodies. Love you, Lil Bro
Boy, you hit the nail on the head about Thanksgiving and Grandma. But it all was SO GOOD! LOL! And we always had thanksgiving at our farm. I will be having a quiet day. Love, Big Sis.
Tales from Depression and Dealing with it. 