By Nancy Patrick

A few weeks ago I wrote an article about the stages of life and how I do not enjoy my current stage, the one near the end of the journey. Not only did I express my dismay and disappointment with my physical limitations, but also I had just begun my excursion into grief following the presidential election.

I do not compartmentalize my life well. Everything about me resembles a huge salad bowl with all the ingredients thrown together, making them inseparable. My husband, on the other hand, can file the parts of his life under different tabs: spiritual matters, political issues, marital relationship, parent/child relationship, career, and friends.

My tossed salad approach to life creates difficulty because one unhappy issue affects the other areas as well. For example, I have very strong political views that are tied to my spiritual, ethical, and moral values. I can’t separate my core values from the political aspects of the world.

I attended a meeting the week after the election. The moderator announced that in the room that day some people felt ecstatic about the election while others experienced sadness, anger, confusion, and despondency about our country’s future. Of course, most people I associate with try to keep their political views quiet or at least neutral, but sometimes I find it difficult to keep my emotions in check.

I also have suffered from depression for many years and remain open about it. I know some people find it embarrassing to admit to depression, but I have always tried to maintain honesty about mine in the hopes that my sharing and vulnerability would in some way encourage others. At any rate, my spirit dragged the ground for days following the election.

At this same time, a dear friend and pillar of the community had just died and our church was in the midst of doing all the benevolent things we do surrounding the death of a friend. The widow has become a dear friend to me during the past couple of years. 

Both of them dedicated themselves to staying as healthy as possible and continued to do as many things as they could to stay active in the community. They had outlived two of their three children and had gone through the pangs of life we all do if we live long enough. 

After my friend’s funeral, I went to visit his widow. As we talked, I shared some of my frustrations about life with her. I feel somehow that she serves as a spiritual mentor to me, so even though I went to comfort her, she turned the table and comforted me. I left that afternoon feeling blessed by her presence in my life.

She gave me a copy of a devotional book someone had given her. The book, designed for a devotional each day of the year, seems to supernaturally discern the message I need for that day. Anyway, this gift keeps on giving as I read the words for each day.

The gift giver has used the book to hold me accountable. I mean by that that I receive random messages from her pointing out a particular spiritual truth or comforting promise in a certain day’s devotional. If I have become lax in reading that day’s teaching, I immediately go to the book so I can respond to my friend’s encouraging text.

I feel loved and cared for in the midst of a depression that can seem overwhelming. I feel a lifeline has been thrown to me. It reminds me of an old hymn I used to sing at church—“Throw out the Lifeline” (song). The gospel hymns in those days differed from the modern choruses we sing and hear today in contemporary services. 

This particular song relates to our Christian responsibility to seek fellowship with other Christians. We live in a society that is plagued by depression and other mental health issues related often to the technological age in which we live. People can easily feel lost at sea in dark, stormy waters with no rescue in sight.

Observing and discerning the people in our lives might nudge us to throw out a lifeline to someone—whether it be a book, a note, a phone call, a visit, or a meal. I have always thought I was supposed to be the one in charge of helping everyone else; I now find myself in the opposite role—I have been the one sinking and in need of a lifeline. 

At the end of my last article in Spirit of Abilene I mentioned that I might need to stop writing for a while. I didn’t want my negative attitude to influence readers, but several of them responded by asking me to continue writing. Perhaps realizing that we are not alone in sadness or despair can comfort us. 

Those throwing out the lifelines to me tenaciously pray for me and continue to love me even when I don’t seem to respond. I do recognize their love and care. If you feel alone or depressed, watch and listen to this video sung by  Mennonite congregation (“We Are not Alone”).

Nancy Patrick is a retired teacher who lives in Abilene and enjoys writing