Where does all the Joy + Gratitude come from?

I honestly don't know. I think a lot of it came in utero from my celebratory Mother. Queen of all things joyful. Sometimes it comes from talking to someone who isn't doing well and doesn't have a f*ing clue how or the will to get out of the darkness they're in. And I don't have a clue either. Do you all know that Dr. Rachel Naomi Remen quote - "The wish to live is different than the will to live." I'm thinking specifically of my dad as I write this. He lives with manic depression and currently is in a season of serious depression so filled with anxiety that he's not leaving the house. I talked to him on Sunday evening. Sometimes we just sit on the phone in silence together. I'm thankful to be at a place in my life where I can do that. This is a new development. But, I am sad when I get off the phone. That 18 or so minutes really gets to me. It's so f*ing depressing. So then I call my mom, my stepdad, and Jess to have a different kind of conversation, or say a prayer, and at times just feel so damn grateful that I have never known that kind of suffering and I am lucky! But, bewildered by these debilitating diseases I've come to know from a front row seat - addiction and mental illness.

I think that's part of this past Sunday's post. My life is full of Love and some semblance of inner freedom. My dad's isn't (that I can see) and I no longer think I can fix that. I believe in miracles, but I don't believe I have to make them happen anymore or that I could even if I wanted to. However, I do believe we participate in miracles, seen and unseen, everyday.

Seeds of growth in this area of my life were planted deeply and nurtured at Westminster Presbyterian Church. This is the place where I started standing up and telling the truth about my family and my dad's illness. My dad has been through several textbook manic phases that end with suicide attempts. I really needed a place where I could tell the truth about that and receive prayer. The kind that only that little blessed church could give me as I was sobbing at the end of the communion rail, in session meetings, in the pews, or walking into Sarah's arms in the back of the church. I was well loved and supported. Some of the precious prayers are still in my life walking along with me. I think of Sue and Jordan. Two stellar spacious companions on my journey who are quick to respond to prayer requests and follow up when they see me next. Of course, the MKs, also Derek and Amity and John. I sometimes see people from Westminster around the hood - Boe, Anne, Jerome, Millie. I wish I would run into Peter. I can still see him walking into church after the service was underway with his headphones on waving to Matt and saying a loud hello as he walked to his pew and asking for the most ordinary, honest prayers which inspired me to follow suit. Thank you, Westminster. It was a special time and a hard and necessary closing of that church. I also learned some lessons there about letting things die that need to die and sitting bedside so to speak.

And with the principal of the most personal being the most universal, since telling the truth and asking for support I have met several people with dads who live or lived with manic depression, as well as moms, sisters, grandparents. Yes, I meant to bold all those s's. I mean to use those words in their plural form. It's amazing to me.

Several of you have been praying for my dad over the years, over and over and over again. And for me and my sister. Please continue when you think of it. We'll take it in any format - candles, mantras, prayer flags, whispers, burned pieces of paper.

And while I'm asking for my Uncle Dave's family too. My dad's only brother died unexpectedly of a severe heart attack that resulted in severe brain damage mid-December. My Aunt Lynn Dee and cousins are on my mind a lot lately. My Uncle Dave was a really good guy.

Peace + Thank you, Em