Genetics

Genetics. We love them or hate them.

As I scroll through photos of news articles with titles like " The most beautiful children of the most beautiful parents" it becomes abundantly clear.... you are either born with it, or you're not.

It's been 4 1/2 years now since my dad decided to take his own life. I've been stuck in cycles of mourning, cycles of despair, cycles of anger, cycles of questioning, and cycles of fear.

I watched my dad plummet toward certain death and nothing and no one could stop him. His mental status deteriorated before our very eyes. He was mad at the world. A victim of everyone everyone and everything around him. There was no encouraging word to speak that would lighten the burden that he carried on his weary shoulders.

The day he ended his life he ended his pain.

I've often struggled with my own dark pit- although incredibly now I find myself no longer in those long seasons. Sadness still brushes my face (and my heart) but I'm currently living in the glorious rays of sunshine... and I like it here.

I'm also deeply aware of how it felt when the sun no longer shone in my life. When the rays disappeared behind thick, dark clouds.

And I wonder- is this genetic? Was I born into this struggle? Is there something raging inside my body, so minuscule that it wanders silently until it grows so out of control that I can't stop it?

Today, my heart is left wondering if that same tiny shred built into who I am by the Maker who makes all things, also passed onto that child who grew watermelon sized inside my womb. The pit he's been falling into was deep and dark. We desperately tried to hold on as we flung rope ladders into the hole- yelling desperately at him to grab a hold and allow us to pull him out- but he couldn't do it. Lack of strength in those arms? Perhaps. Or perhaps he no longer really thought that there was light up here in the land of the alive.

The nagging lump in my throat tells the real story. Will this story end far too soon as it did with my dad? Will the help arrive to his little man heart too late? Is there still hope past the genes I sit tearful and cursing tonight?

It seems almost as if the fear has me frozen. Afraid to think anything but the best outcome.... but still that nagging question floats aimlessly around in my head. Bouncing off the right, then the left, and back again.  Will this end like my dad? Will this be the last time I hear his voice, or see his dimpled smile? Did we catch this twisted illness in time?

Just as I am nearly lost in the what if's, a song plays on my heart, right up through my ears:

"You stay the same through the ages
Your love never changes
There may be pain in the night
But joy comes in the morning
And when the oceans rage
I don't have to be afraid
Because I know that You love me
Your love never fails"- Newsboys

And folks, I gotta tell you, I am clinging to these words with all that I am. JOY comes in the morning. JOY comes in the pain. Don't be afraid, for I am with you to the end. And I remember and choose to stand on God's promises today. "Be strong and courageous, do not be afraid or terrified because of them, for the Lord your God goes with you; He will never leave you nor forsake you." Deuteronomy 31:6

I stood by helpless as my father succumbed to depression and I never thought it would end in suicide- but I will not lose hope for my child.

Tonight as I sit in a dark room. As I rubbed the backs of sobbing children whose minds can't comprehend what's happening, I wipe tears and whisper truth hidden in my heart from long ago: “But you, Israel, my servant, Jacob, whom I have chosen, you descendants of Abraham my friend,
9 I took you from the ends of the earth,from its farthest corners I called you.
I said, ‘You are my servant’; I have chosen you and have not rejected you.
10 So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God.
I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand." Isaiah 41:8-10