Lent 2013

Holy cow, where has the time gone?

Ok - I know... regardless of how many Sci Fi books I read, how many episodes of Andromeda or Star Trek (in its various incarnations) I watch, or how much I really love The Doctor...

Time moves as it always has, and always will. Yup.

But still, time manages to surprise us by its absence, doesn't it?

So realizing that today is Ash Wednesday, and that we're embarking on Lent already for another year does freak me out a little. After all, I hear "Lent" and I immediately start thinking "Easter."

Nope. Not the same. Beginning of Lent is nowhere near Easter. Nope.

Which brings us to the question that I seem to hear as much as "So what's your New Year's Resolution?" Ah yes, the ever-popular...

"So, what are YOU giving up for Lent?" 

Usually followed on Facebook by some comedic banter, witty retorts, and (more and more, I'm glad to say) some sincere responses.

And don't get me wrong - it's totally alright to joke about giving up 'giving up things for Lent' for Lent. Or something like brussels sprouts, which you wouldn't catch me eating on even a really bad day. That's all good fun, and I certainly make my own share of them. If you're going to deny yourself something until Easter, you at least have the right to laugh about it, dagnabit.

But there is a serious side to the question, and a serious answer. And my answer is, as I believe it was last year, not about what I'm giving up but rather what I'm taking on, what I'm striving for.

But last year was a little vague. Good, but vague. This year, I'm a little older, slightly wiser (in a faltering, Goofyesque type of way), and more needy. I've been through some major shifting this past year, I've learned new things about myself, and I'm still trying to puzzle out how those lessons become part of my story, my now, so that the good things I've tried to learn become not just memories and experiences, but things that refined me and pushed me a little further down my path.

So my Lenten focus is a little clearer. And again, it's not so much about what I'm "giving up," but rather what I'm taking on, what I'm focusing on. To use Lent as a reminder, every time I say no to something or choose another path, that the reason I'm doing it is to submit to the One who gave it all up for me.

So, for Lent, I'm going Paleo.

"As usual Cal, you've managed to take an almost poignant moment of spiritual meaning and throw it down the crack of absurdity."

Thank ya. Thank ya very muchhhhh. Uh huh! 

"Shall we assume that you're going to use one of your favorite phrases here, 'lemme 'splain'?"

Why yes, you can certainly assume that. And thank you for setting up the recurring gag so eloquently.

During my 9 month retail career, I gained about 30 pounds. A significant number for anyone to gain, but for me it's a huge red flag that things are way, w-a-a-y out of balance and control. With my redecorated innards, gaining that much weight means that I'm really not doing my job, and that some major shifting has to happen, lest that number get bigger and bigger along with me getting bigger and bigger.

I've already burned my membership card in the 400 Plus Club, and I have no intention of requesting a new one. I don't even want to see the junk mail from the 300 Plus Club, and as for the Over 250 Club? I might be camping on your doorstep, but I ain't gonna knock.

Besides, if I get over 300, I exceed the weight limit on my beloved trike, Big Blue. "That shall not (come to) pass!"

So, Paleo.

Essentially, it's this: "Eat only things a caveman could eat." If it can be killed and dragged home, if it can be picked, plucked, or dug and eaten, it's fair game. If it has to be processed, refined, sifted, sorted, or fiddled with (other than cooking it to make it safe to eat, of course), it's not fair game.

Meat = very good. Beans = very good. Veggies = good. Fruits = good. Grains = bad (for the most part). Dairy = meh (depends on if you're Orthodox Paleo or Reformed Paleo...).

Sugar = Dark Lord of the Sith BAD.

And that last one is where it bites me in the hiney... I ingest way WAY too much sugar for someone with my history, especially as a (and I quote) "former diabetic who still possesses diabetic potential if your weight were to return." Not to mention what sugar does to my present anatomy.

Oi vey. With a bullet.

The only thing that creates more havoc in my little tum-tum is a carbonated beverage. If sugar is a Dark Lord of the Sith, soda (even diet soda) is a whole cotton-pickin' Death Star load of 'em. And a diet COLA? Pretty much the whole Imperial army, including the little two-legged walkie-shooty-thingies that get smunched when the Ewoks let loose the two logs to smack together with it in the middle.

Why yes, I have watched a few of those movies a few times. How did you guess?

So, Paleo.

In a nutshell, ('cause nuts ARE Paleo, in moderation) it's a low carb diet, with more veggies and fruit. And more awesomeness. And a side of refried beans. Sour cream optional, but since I'm Reformed and not Orthodox, bring it.

Returning to the poignant spiritual moment previously launched into the crack of absurdity, the way it all sums up for me in this Lenten season, is this...

For Lent, I'm going to make mindful choices to walk away from the carbs I overload with, to get back to the basics of how my new physiology operates best, and to return to those careful, thoughtful behaviors that ensure my new life will continue to be lived as God has called me to live it.

And each time I turn away from a bagel or a candy bar, each time I choose the right path, every time I deny myself something that appeals to my senses but would damage my health, I'll remember that I'm walking this path because of the path Jesus walked for me, and use the opportunity to remember that my little piddly "sacrifices" aren't even worth comparing to His. They're important, they're significant in the here and now, but compared to Christ? *hangs head*

Like Advent, Lent is more of a mindful journey for me. It's not about what I got rid of for 40 days (or however many), but rather the place my path has ended up when I reach Easter. Every choice I make along the way, between now and then, is a reminder of that path. It is about denial, but not about developing pride about that denial, lest I become one of the religious folks Jesus opened up a big ol' can of whoop bottom on.

So yes, you will probably see me putting sugar in my coffee. (And some sort of creamer - again, I'm Reformed Paleo, not Orthodox. You REALLY don't want to require me to grow a crazy David Crowderesque beard - it'd take 15 years, and would still look like a rotting pelt from a deranged chipmunk...) But I probably won't be washing my coffee down with a cookie. A thin crust pizza from Gus' Originals? Probably, but no cheesy bread to go with it. Abstinence in some things, moderation in others.

The point is, the mindful in-the-moment thought that went into each choice. And remembering Who calls me to my ReBorn life - His choices, His denial, His acceptance, His sacrifice.

Welcome to Lent, brothers and sisters.

Why I've Dropped My Membership In The Golden Calf Club...

The what??

The Golden Calf Club.

As in, the habit I have of rolling my eyes and thinking myself SO much better than the Hebrew children, since I’d never EVER go for a cow right after having trotted through the Red Sea. It’s brought to you by the same fine folks as the Friends Of Job Club, which I dropped many years ago.

So, as usual, I’ve gone off on such a bunny trail that even BekaV would have trouble following me down it. Actually, she’d be way the HECK out in front of me, since she’s about 100,000 times faster than me, even if I’m on a trike. Unless it’s a Harley trike, of course.

Herself and I were listening to the Daily Audio Bible this morning, and the OT reading was the story from Exodus - Moses on the mountain, getting the goods from God, and the folks NOT on the mountain, getting Aaron to make a cow. Brian Hardin (host, voice, and heart of the DAB) gave us some perspective on the story when reminding us that God is creating a new people, a new culture from the Israelites, since for hundreds of years their memories are tied to slavery. They don’t know how to live as free people in this new situation, since slavery is all they’ve ever known. So the commandments, the rules, the observances - all are intended to help take these former slaves and help them learn and live their new life as God’s chosen people.

But there are a lot of years, decades, generations of habits to get over. Habits that have only known Egypt and slavery.

So for the first time, when hearing the part where, after Moses has been gone so long, the people asking (begging, telling, threatening?) Aaron to make them gods to worship, my response wasn’t immediately, “You doorknobs! How could you DO something like that??”

I suddenly thought, “Well, perhaps the weight of their habits, generations of a very narrow worldview, seeing slavery as their only life, and not knowing the God of their fathers kicks in. Before they stop to remember all they’ve seen to get them here, they switch right over to the life and behaviors that are deeply written into their minds...” And it’s not too far of a flight of fancy to imagine that, because God continued to care for them and bless them, that they might have learned to attribute those blessings to something other than Him. At some level, God could have been forgotten and the idols all around them became the author of what little blessings they could find in their life of slavery. That might be stretching it, but it’s an interesting angle to look from...

‘cause let’s face it - I’m there too.

No, there are no golden cows or anything like that in our abode. There is a cute dog, but usually she gets treats and cuddles, not worship. Unless I’m on a really strange prescription...

But all I have to do is see myself munching a candy bar, snarfing a piece of pie, or chowing down on some other food that really isn’t anywhere near the type of stuff I need to fuel my new life with, and I see my cow.

Although eating some cow is fine, for the record. Protein = good, simple carbs = bad.

The habits of 51 years can easily kick over the last 3 years. (Ok - it’ll be 3 years on March 30th... the Proofreader will appreciate that little detail.) The momentum of my life before I was ReBorn can sweep away all I’ve seen and lived and become over these years. I can yearn for my version of Egypt - candy, ice cream, and carbonated beverages, even though that path leads back to bondage, food addiction, and all that comes with returning to the 400 Plus Club.

That’s someplace I never EVER want to go again. I’ve been 486, and I don’t want to go back there.

But that’s someplace I could go again, if the old doesn’t pass away and the new comes and sticks around.

So, the Golden Calf Club? Nope. I’m just like those former slaves, wandering around, trying to understand what happened to them, and reaching for the only comfort they know. I can’t roll my eyes, throw up my hands, or otherwise think myself so much better than them.

Because the truth is, it's way too easy for me to throw away the Promised Land for a Mounds bar.

Phabulous Photo Phriday... On Saturday.

So, last week ended up being a Phantom Phabulous Photo Phriday.

'cause we were on vacation...

Up here...

 

 In this...

Which is pretty much the reason we try and go across this...

 

At least once this time of year to get more of that than we get down here...

 

And unlike her last visit in August...

 

Where she did some... exploring...

 

Beka decided to just chillax this time...

 

Sleep in late with momma...

 

And watch Puppy Bowl IX with daddy.

You know... just your basic relaxing vacation.

When The Audience Turns Its Back

The following thought comes from Calvin Miller's Singer trilogy - if I wasn't essentially lazy, I'd go look it up, however since Google tends to be an open window for me to chase squirrels through, I tend to jot down the essentials and leave my intrepid reader to do the research.

SQUIRREL!! *stops, looks around*

This pretty much explains my massive number of readers - 2.58 and falling.

Anyway, the thought...

It is much harder to sing when the audience has turned its back.

Or, in the words of Garfield the Cat Bard, (And this one I can put quotes around and everything, since I'm actually quoting and not guessing - a rare occurrence here at TW'sW's...)

(Pause to s-w-o-o-n with excitement...)

"Thank you for that large round of indifference."

How much of our lives do we spend in hopes of approval? A pat on the back, a "like" on the page, a comment on the blog?

A gust of wind and a hearty "Hi yo Silver - AWAY!"?

Or is that last one just me?

(And yes, I'm aware I don't have that quote right, except for the whole Hi Yo thing. Remember - Google + Cal = SQUIRREL! Words I live by...)

And now, it's time for another example of how different I am from my beloved... 
See, she's probably going to be proofreading these words before they see the light of day (at least we all hope and pray she will...), and upon seeing that I'm probably misquoting or just guessing on some of those things, she'll have Google open in another tab before you can say "frapdoodle," and will be deciding if she should actually put in the correct quotes and neaten everything up, or leave it be to allow the world to see once again her hubby's rather unique (read: off-kilter and twisted) perspective on the world.

The following space is left intentionally blank... If she did the aforementioned research, looked up the aforementioned misquotes, and pondered if she should fix them for me, I command... um, suggest... um, pleadingly beg that she put the corrections in the following space, in a different color font, that all might know that I'm not making this stuff up. If she didn't, there will be a lovely blank space for you to take an opportunity to roll your eyes at me.

 Ok, GoogleGirl - take it...

Calvin Miller - "It is always much more difficult to sing when the audience has turned its back."

Garfield - he nailed that one!  :-D

Lone Ranger - "Hi-yo, Silver! AWAY!"


In the spirit of Master Yoda (rather than quoting him) I say, "Told you, I did." (Unless there's just a blank space there - then Missy Yoda would be saying "Showed you, I did." Well played, proofreader - well played...)

Recently on this here pony show of rambling miscellany, I brought something rather personal and deep to the light of day - my ongoing struggle with depression and bipolar disorder. Why I would write about something perhaps better left concealed is explained in that post, so I won't run over that turf again. But one thing that came from it has made me do some thinking and examination...

And that thing would be, nothing.

Absofragginlutely nothing.

No comments, no "likes" or such on a page, no emails or IMs of either encouragement or disbelief. No idea if anyone even saw those words - was it worth baring something so close to my heart if nobody would ever read it? If it does no good, encourages no one? What's the point of writing if nobody hears it?

Which makes me take myself out back for a sharp talking to...

TW'sW's is my personal journal. Note I didn't say 'private,' just personal, since our Father seems to delight in telling me to hang my undies out there to dry before the whole world - all 2.58 of 'em.

(The readers, not the undies - just to be clear. The census of my undies remains undisclosed. There's a reason to be thankful if you were needing one today.)

Writing is therapy, it's processing, and it's someplace for me to laugh at my own jokes. Nobody else may find this poopy funny, but it amuses me.

The point is, it does a good work in me, it changes things in me, and as my beloved so wisely said, "It's where the maintenance gets done." (And that's a QUOTE, people! Woo hoo! He got one right!)

(You mean besides the Garfield quote, honey? :-D)

*Insert turbo-moon dance of victory*

*Insert sound of 2.58 readers either clicking away to far-flung pages or bleaching their eyeballs -  although the former is a better choice than the latter. Totally.*

So why do I feel let down when there's no approval? No comments, no "likes," no nuttin'?

Because, I think, when we put something out there so intimate and personal, we'd like to think at the end of the day that laying ourselves open like that was for a reason, a purpose. If we're struggling through a tough issue, and making the battle transparent so that others can see it ("others" meaning folks that have a similar struggle, feeling like they're all alone in the fight), then it'd be nice to know that making our flaws and brokenness show to others is worth the effort. Otherwise, why let people know how messed up we are? Why trot our junk out there for everyone to see? Why put a huge picture window on our front wall so the professionals from Hoarders can look right in and say, "Dude - I'm not goin' in there. EVER."

Why indeed?

Because "God works in mysterious ways, His wonders to perform." (Yes, it's a quote. From a hymn. No, I don't remember which one. And no, I'm not going to go look it up, lest I be chasing squirrels down the information superhighway for the next hour or two...)  (God Moves in a Mysterious Way, "God moves in a mysterious way His wonders to perform...", written by William Cowper, a British poet and hymnist who struggled throughout his life with depression, doubts, and fears.)  

God doesn't give us the "here's-why-you-did-that" cam. Or a script, so we can read ahead to scene 22 where the big reveal happens. Our lives don't have footnotes, so we can turn to the end of the chapter and see what it all means.

There's no appendix at the end giving us the timeline and what happened to the characters after Frodo and Bilbo hop on the grey ship and sail off the end of the world. Or the smack upside the head Rose gives Sam after he ran off to hang out with Mr. Baggins and left her with the kids and the garden and the chores for a few days.

Nope. Nuttin'.

And really, we don't need it. We don't need the comments, the "likes" (As opposed to the "Lykes" - I do indeed need my nieces and nephew, 'cause I loves them kiddos, I do...), the attaboys, the affirmations, or any of the praise of people. We don't need to know that our stories helped someone else, or that we have significance in some situation somewhere. Nice? Yes. Necessary? Nope.

This is all we need to know: God loves His kids. God works in His kids. God shows His glory through His kids. God shows His love, His grace, His mercy through His kids.

Does anyone read these words? Probably.

Does being transparent in my struggles have significance? Yes, because I do so in obedience to Him.

If I trip and fall in the woods and there's no one around to hear it, do I still scream like a little girl?

Oh heavens, yes.

So I struggle, I strive, I stumble, I stagger. I write, I think, I work and the maintenance gets done. I post, I publish (or at least hope to, if He says that's my path), I tell the story (if He gives me the opportunity) and I remain as transparent as He asks me to be.  

As long as God is the Hero of the story, as long as He is the theme of it all, and as long as my little steps and efforts point straight to Him, then that's reason enough to go on.

No comments? No "likes?" No attaboys? No worries. 

The One who calls me to my ReBorn life is the only One whose approval I need.

As for laughing at my own jokes? Bonus, baby. Oh yeah.

"For in Him we live and move and have our being."
- Acts 17:28 (TNIV)

Putting A Face On The Demon

I think there's a better-than-average chance that this will never see the light of day, but since I write what He brings to my mind, we'll see if this is the time where it comes out or not... 

God sometimes tells me to be transparent about things that would be easier (and more comfortable) to keep private. I, being the flawed creature I am, think of "special ways" to express to Him my feelings about this...

But I write them anyway, because I've learned in that particular argument, I'll always lose.

Period.

If you're reading this, there's a reason. I think I know what that reason is, and I'll 'splain at the end.

I've made no secret of the fact that I'm someone who deals with mental illness - part of that dealing is with depression, as well as some ADD tendencies, though not enough to go pro with it.

SQUIRREL!!! *stops, looks around...*

See? Just enough to get distracted, not enough to be a contender.

I have Seasonal Affective Disorder, which makes me want to curl up and hibernate as soon as the sun starts going down before 7pm, and really should get back to using light therapy, not only for the SAD, but because I live in Michigan and we don't get NEAR enough sunlight even on a good day. I also take a whole gob of Vitamin D, which helps a lot, although I have to take more than a normal person since that's one of the vitamins that my new system doesn't deal with readily, and needs a little help. (ADEK, for those keeping score at home, are the vitamins that a DS patient has to take in a different form, since my redecorated innards don't deal with 'em well.)

... And I'm stalling here, aren't I?

(Great quote from The Incredibles - "I was monologuing! You got me monologuing!!")

SQUIRREL! *hmm... nobody's buying it. Carry on.*

Yup. Stalling.

So the one that hides behind the others, the one that explains the rest, the one that is probably my #1 concern to monitor but most likely to not be spoken of except to trusted friends (and there are a LOT of them out there, since many folks that are close to us know this little tidbit about me...), and the one that doesn't really change anything, but explains a whole bunch is this:

I'm bipolar. To put it more formally, I have bipolar disorder.

"Wha? Isn't that the thing where somebody goes totally crazy, shoots his family, then turns the gun on himself and makes the lead story on the 6pm news?"

Um, yes... but... No... but...

Well, let's define it first, shall we?

"Bipolar disorder is a condition in which people go back and forth between periods of a very good or irritable mood and depression. The 'mood swings' between mania and depression can be very quick." - U.S. National Library of Medicine

Any questions?

Yeah, me too...

It's what was once called manic depressive disorder, and changed because in the middle of pitching a fit, "manic depressive" doesn't roll off the tongue nearly as smartly as "bipolar" does.

Not that I have direct experience in that or anything...

Want a little better picture of it? Let me take a swing at it... (not literally, though - really)

It's a rapid switch between extremes or a rapid onset of...

Mania, which can be absolute total euphoria or extreme irritation or anger or a mixture of emotions. It can make you see everything as beautiful, so you're almost giddy, or the slightest little thing can make you respond in frustration or rage. A full-blown mania episode can make you totally throw judgment to the wind, can cause you to engage in stupid or risky behavior, excessive spending (see the aforementioned word "stupid) or believing that everything you do is touched with greatness and you can do no wrong. It reduces your attention span to nil, takes away all judgment, and can hit like a freight train.

(Yes, I'm sure any number of mental health professionals would tweak that to make it more correct... I'm just callin' 'em as I see 'em from the inside out.)

-or-

Depression. You sink into the depths and can't climb out. You weep, you cry, and all you can see is darkness. You can't hear loved ones speaking to you. You can't hear truth, you can't feel joy, and the worst place you can possibly be at that moment is alone.

You may even consider at that point that everyone you love would be so much better off without you and all your drama, all your ups and downs. WHICH IS AN ABSOLUTE LIE THAT DEPRESSION WILL TELL YOU.  DO NOT LISTEN TO IT!

(Sorry to shout there, but one of the biggies of dealing either with severe depression or bipolar is knowing this - your loved ones would rather have you, broken and flawed, than not have you around at all. You will not "make life easier on them," or "quit ruining their lives" by leaving - you'll leave a gaping hole of loneliness that can't be filled. Suicide is the most selfish act someone can choose. Having lost my dad that way, I can testify personally - it rots.)

The preceding thoughts and understanding come from a blog that I can't recommend in good conscience, since she uses colorful metaphors like others use vowels, but I've been helped and given so much clarity in her open journey dealing with mental illness that I have to give much credit where credit is due. So props and thanks to The Bloggess for opening her world to all of us who walk that path also - letting us know that "it's not just me."

Back to the swinging gate that is bipolar...

The two extremes can overlap. Or go stone cold from one right into the other with nothing between. Or manifest in other extreme ways, all the way up to psychosis and losing grip on reality.  It's the nastiest roller coaster you can ever imagine, but with NOBODY enjoying the ride.

So next time you see a lurid news story about a horrible incident with someone who suffers from bipolar, put my face on the label and understand that many of us deal with the condition, in varying degrees and forms.

Put a face on the demon, and understand. See a view of it from the inside. This is how it feels to me...

It's running full-tilt toward a cliff. You can see the cliff, you know that you'll be falling for days, you know that it's horrible and dangerous, and that it will damage you...

But you just. Can't. Stop.

Unstoppable euphoria. Blinding frustration. Bitter depths of depression. Doesn't matter what lies at the bottom of the cliff - you simply can't stop, can't step away, can't dial it back...

You jump. Every time.

Your loved ones watch you leap, see the pain and damage and horror, endure the mania or the rage or the darkness, knowing there is nothing they can do to bring you back... The coaster rolls on, you drop with it.

"Whoa, Cal - lighten up, dude. You're creeping me out a little here."

That's ok. It's no picnic from my seat either.

To folks that have known me for many, many years, it explains why sometimes you'd encounter GiddyCal - fun, laughing, lovin' life - and sometimes you'd encounter EvilCal - irritated, angry, sad, melancholy. Always an extreme, no middle ground.

And there I was, hating it all on the inside, with no clue why I would behave like that. So it turned to a type of self-loathing, added to the issue of being super morbidly obese, shaken none-too-gently, and served stone cold to an unsuspecting world.

I'm frankly surprised that so many people hung in there with me for so long.

But God gave me a promise March 30, 2010, when my old life fell away. "My chains are gone, I've been set free." And since then, sometimes blindingly fast, sometimes carefully slow, the chains have fallen.

He had just the right people in place to show me this chain called bipolar disorder, and to offer solutions. To administer the right drugs and to nail the prescriptions from the start so that I haven't had a horrible struggle finding the right balance that would give me control over the demon.

Once again, He set me free.

Now, I have to show up and do my job. I have to know my triggers, to comply with my treatment, to be constantly aware of my emotional balance, and to look at challenging situations to determine if I'm facing a speed bump in the path or a major turn that calls for a change.

But for the first time in my life, I run toward the cliff...

And stop. And take a deep breath. And turn around. 

I can back away from the edge, I can stop the descent.

My chains are gone.

Bad days? Of course. Wrong choices? Yes. Learning from the tough and going on, wiser for the wear, by God's grace? Absolutely.

So, the reasons I feel compelled to lay this out in public now? I think there's a couple...

1) Since I've never been open about dealing with bipolar, I've never actually written my way through it. I've never trotted out my thoughts about it - just lived with the treatment, learned, and went on. Which works for a while, but not long-term.

When something doesn't go through the writing process for me, it never gets worked through. It never gets sorted out, so I can identify the truth from the lies when it comes around in my head again. Writing (as I've said so very many times before) is essential for me - to bring the intangible into the tangible and wrestle with it, to illuminate it and understand it.

In the days since I started writing through this, in the process of journaling this part of my path, I've been able to identify how mania and depression show up in my own walk. How to identify when I'm starting to turn my face toward the cliff and lacing up my jumping shoes. And how to try and head it off before I lift a foot to run. Writing, illuminating, understanding - the process God has given me to see my life, my struggles, my path...

And once again I'm blown away at how much God loves His kids. How He takes care of us, even when we have no idea how needy we are.

"Ok, well that's dandy. But why fling it out there on the blog then?" Glad you asked...

2) Just as God has used the experiences of Jenny Lawson (The Bloggess) to let me know that I don't need to feel "different" or "stigmatized" with the labels of depression or bipolar disorder, or weak because I rely on drugs to assist me in having control over it, I need to pass that on.

(In fact, she gave me a different angle to look at my drugs from - just as a diabetic would take medication for that condition, or a heart patient, or someone with high blood pressure, I'm dealing with a physical, tangible condition here. There is a chemical imbalance in a specific organ - my brain - and my medications work on that condition. No stigma, no weakness, just using the tools God provides to help me walk the path He sets before me...)

There's someone out there who needs to know they're not alone, that others feel like this and struggle with it. That some days the demon wins a battle, but will never win the war as long as we keep going.

And, most important, that God loves His kids, that He still moves in the most miraculous ways, and that His faithfulness endures to all generations. I'm not unique or special - just exceedingly blessed...

And in Jesus Christ, so are you. We are ALL blessed in Christ, and God moves in ALL our lives in amazing, wondrous ways - we just need to open our eyes and SEE Him at work.

He is the light at the end of the tunnel. He stands at the cliff edge, holding out His arms to keep us safe. He is our refuge and strength - ever-present in times of trouble.

I'm Cal, and I deal with depression and bipolar disorder. 

That's not who I am, or who I'm becoming - it's just a part of the package that encompasses me. I am fearfully and wonderfully made, I shine brightly because of His light, and I'm constantly delighted by the wonder He puts into each day.

Be blessed, my friends. See the wonder. See Him.

"And Lord of the mind, when Legion brings insanity, You're the Word that restores me once again.
That's why I say, You are my all in all. You're the air I breathe, the song I sing, the help I call. And when I know I just can't cope, You alone are all my hope, for Your grace is enough...

for me."

- "Lord Of The Troubled Sea" by Ken Medema