Mary VanRheenen
CBF Field Personnel, Europe
For he knows our frame; he remembers that we are dust.
– Psalm 103:14 (ESV)
Learning to live with my own “frame” has been a life-long, life-giving process. I remember sitting in the doctor’s office about a year after our youngest child was born. I’d felt tired for a long time and had finally come to find out why. Then I saw the doctor’s questions were leading towards a problem that I’d seen in other family members. A sibling had wrestled with it. A parent and a great uncle had been hospitalized for it. It was a chronic problem I really did not want to have: depression. It would be several more years before I was willing to try medication. Our doctor here in the Netherlands prescribed a very low dosage to counteract the winter blues. When spring came, I wondered about stopping.
“I’ve lived with you on medication,” my husband Keith said. “And I’ve lived with you without medication. Keep taking it.”
Rick Landon, our CBF member care person at the time, agreed. “Thank God for your medicine just like you thank God for your food.”
Since then, I’ve added another medication, prescribed by the same helpful Dutch doctor, this one for restless leg syndrome. It isn’t a strong dosage; but without it, I literally cannot lie still enough to sleep through the night. Lots of other things help—exercise, the right kind of mattress, prayerful journaling at the close of the day. Even with all that, I’d still be a crazed insomniac without the medication.
We are but dust. The Creator molded that dust into clay and breathed eternity into us. But in this imperfect world, some of that dust is also imperfect. My dust has a chemical imbalance. Meditation helps. Prayer time and fun time with friends help. Time outdoors, regular exercise, creative expression, adequate rest—all help. Knowing that I am a child of God through the power of the risen Jesus helps even more. But none of that corrected the chemical imbalances in my brain. So, I thank my Creator for all of that—plus the pills in my hand as I take the daily medication which keeps me sane.
Pray, Practice, Ponder
When our children were young, we made a point of discussing how every human being has differences. We kept it concrete. That family member has limited eyesight and wears glasses; this friend can’t walk and uses a wheelchair. The concept fascinated our daughters. They wanted to know what their flaws might be. What are your differences? Are you ready to accept help for them, whatever that help might be?
Pray...Give...Go.