Depression

Depression is weird because sometimes you know you feel depressed and sometimes you don’t.  When you don’t, you wonder whether you really are and just don’t realize it. When you do, you don’t give a big rip, about that or much of anything else, like brushing your teeth or combing your hair. Why did I pick such a joyful subject?To remember, I guess.

There are a lot of definitions of depression. I’ve heard that it’s the time when you feel like you have no control. I’ve heard that if you take a step in any direction  you can relieve it. I believe that could be crap because depressed people are not likely to take steps without help, chemical or counseling, or both. If the help is chemical, get ready, you’re on it for at least six months. You may not want to be, but you may find when all is said and done, that you needed to be.

Once a depressed person accepts help, they’re back towondering whether their depression is over, or just masked. It’s a bit of a Catch 22. However, it isn’t insurmountable. Prayer and the Psalms are as important as chemistry and counseling, maybe more. Writing a psalm in your own words allowsyou and God to think over your circumstances. Prayer before that may not even happen, but after the writing the depressed person has an inkling of what the issues are, and therefore what to talk to God about. Once God directs, you can begin to crawl out of the pit however He indicates. That is what I know so far. Sorry about the words that run together. My computer is nuts. It’s not me, honest.

portrait of a young woman in forest

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

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May

OK, get ready. I’m feeling hinky.

feet rain wet puddle

Photo by Alicia Zinn on Pexels.com

May, as in May I …

  •  have another frozen yogurt, please?
  •  watch Steel Magnolias every year?
  •  play football with my grandsons, or attend a graduation?
  •  go barefoot in your house?
  •  explain how to paint with oils? How about the Gospel?
  •  go outside and only come in when it’s dark?
  •  tell you a story?
  •  hug you?
  •  plant Swiss chard in your flower bed?
  •  smell your roses, or better yet, honeysuckle?
  •  eat corn on the cob like a typewriter?
  •  drive through the alfalfa fields sucking in the aroma?
  •  stroke your labrador retriever’s ears?
  •  show you out.

 

Spring

cherry-blossom-white-sky-bloom-48133.jpeg   I’m not sure when the first day of spring is. Never mind, whatever day the first poppy blooms, or a robin wings toward my rose arbor with a stick in her mouth, or a little girl in a sundress and white patent leather shoes dances down the sidewalk, those are the first days of spring. I like spring, but I don’t have allergies.

Around here, almond trees blossom first. It’s the only snow the Central Valley of California ever gets when they start dropping their petals. (Except maybe every ten years, for about a half hour.) The ground is carpeted in white, and people go into the orchards to take pictures of rejoicing.

Another terrific thing about spring is baby calves and lambs. All clean and jumping. Nudging their moms for milk and exploring their world. Soft to the touch and smelling earthy. And baby chicks are soft, too. I know you knew that already, but I would have been remiss to leave them out.

And then there’s turning on the swimming pool solar and checking the thermometer each day to see whether I can put in my toes yet. Brushing the conditioner and skimming almond blossoms off the top. Dreaming of the feel of the water rushing past and the Marco Polo games we’ll play.

And don’t forget planting the garden. The sweat of digging out the burmuda grass runners is exhilarating. Placing tiny seeds carefully and staking tomato plants, oh yeah. Holding the old man (a tender term) to only three screamingly hot pepper plants. Watering, scanning for new weeds, I love it!

So, let’s hear it for spring! Get out there and revel!

Thicccc

I discovered there’s a new word among the younger set this week. Funny how things happen.

I’m a woman blessed with dutch legs, short and sturdy. Sometimes they come in handy, but they didn’t do much for a little girl who wanted to be a ballerina. Mom said, “You can’t be a ballerina, your legs are too thick.” So I took a few tap dancing lessons. Not my style. The end, well not exactly.

I was telling this story to a group of ladies at my church the other night, and one of them said, “You have it made.”

“I do?”

“Yes. The new word for really great, terrific, awesome, is thicccc, and the more cccs you put on the end, the better it is.” She wrote it on a 3×5 for me, and I have posted it on the mirror.  I am thicccc, and I’ve come a long way, baby.