"Depression" by Peter Picard

Oh, Stephen. I'm puffed. Thank you for walking with me. I should do this more often. But the smoking, you know. It slows me down. Slows me down. Let's stop here. Let's rest a moment here. I want to show you something. Something, I've thought about for a long time.

You see that big house?

He nodded. He hadn't heard this story.

I wanted Tony to buy it. Her voice catches.

I wanted him to buy it. Buy it so that we could turn it into a Bed & Breakfast. My life is so hard. I have no purpose any more. I'm so depressed. She turned towards him. He looked in her eyes. Her spark was gone.

Then the spark was back. She was in the hospital. She knew she was leaving soon. She was coming home. She was coming home to die. Now the depression had moved. Moved into her family.

I couldn't watch it. Like a big ship passing, but I couldn't get on board.

Get busy or surrender your ghost. I've always had a problem with leaving. I'm the one who wants to know what happens next.

With depression there is no next. We just find ourselves in an old swamp. There is no current no wave, no wire. We are unplugged and we think even God doesn't know us.

Hope is a wall that has crumbled. We crumble. If we saw ourselves walking down the street, we would turn away; we would cross and avoid ourselves. We think we are rejected. Tears come. Trust goes. And our smiles would not be able to hold onto our faces. And why? We cry. Why does this hell on earth possess us? Is it some trick of the devil? No Question says the artist. We don't want to cheer up. Happiness is an island way out to sea. One we don't deserve to walk along. Because we feel guilty, it's not ours to have. We are spoiling and our flesh feels poisoned. And the only balance to our unworthiness is to rot. Is to withdraw inward. To climb into the word obscurity. To twist round about the letters so we are hidden. So we surrender all our senses. We are invisible within the word.

But then we hear a laugh and a cry. How is it we can hear when we are so far away? There is another laugh and golden sounds we have never heard before. We shudder. As if we have awakened from a long dark sleep. The Golden Sounds open the eyes of our soul. Like hands. Like soft loving hands. We look down at our feet. We are on the sand. We are on the beach. How did we get here? Were we just praying? And then we see Him. He is our older Brother. He is dressed in White and golden light is all around Him. He calls us by name. We have lost sight of our depression. Its steely grip is no more. It is like a ship behind us that has sunk into the sea. And the light breeze over our shoulder suddenly sounds like a long rushing wave. A wave of Joy.

"I waited patiently for the Lord; and he inclined unto me, and heard my cry."

"And he hath put a new song in my mouth, even Praise unto His Name.”

For this and our Joy we are grateful.

The Psalm brings strength and Comfort. In the Name of Jesus Christ. Amen.


Gary MillerComment