I love you, dear unseen fellow sufferer, and from the depths of my heart. I thank you for staying one more day. And though painful it must be, I ask you, “Please stay one more day.” I encourage you to listen for the sounds of God’s music, for we shall hear it and we shall be made whole. Whether the music of our healing comes tomorrow, two weeks from now, years from now, or only in death when we see Him face to face, ultimately we shall be rescued, and we shall suffer no more.
Joyce Landorf, Silent September
This passage from Silent September is so beautiful, so real, because I have been there in the distant past. I know how easy it is to succumb to the pain, be it physical or spiritual or emotional or mental; to sink so deep into the Abyss that there is no light and no way out; to be so desirous of death because it seems to equal peace and release. I know what it is to look at yourself in the mirror and neither recognize the face or wonder if you will ever smile again. I know what it is like to wonder if I should go on with this existence called life.
During my darkest days of depression I would look at the outside world from behind my mask and secretly hate those who loved life, those who smile, those who seemingly had it all together and their lives seemed perfect. I seethed with jealousy for they were living the life I wanted and my own existence seemed worthless.
Somehow, by the Pure Grace of God, I stayed one more day. Each day was a “one more day” for me. I was only able to live and face each day one at a time, sometimes an hour at a time, living for the moment I could return home to my bed for sleep or my head for my ‘other life’.
My healing continues to this day. My healing will continue until the moment I return Home to God. There are still days when I am on the edge of the Abyss, but I have not been inside for a long time. I am grateful for that. I am grateful that even when it seemed I was abandoned I was not. Like that poem “Footsteps” I can look back and see where God was with me throughout this long, albeit dark at intervals, journey of life that is mine. I can see where He stepped in at the last moment when all hope was lost and pulled me back, showing me it wasn’t time for me to go Home.
And while the Abyss is ever with me out on the horizon, I have a firm belief that I will not go Home one iota before I am supposed to (unless it is by my own hand).
And even though the Abyss is there, the Presence of God looms larger and stronger than that darkness and I have faith He, the Beautiful Face of Love and Peace, will keep me safe, even if I fall in.