Higher Than Me

Living here in Israel in the aftermath of 7th October, I sometimes feel like a rocket has landed right in the middle of my own life and sent all my foundations flying.

Of course, this is an exaggeration. When I really think about it, I can see that plenty of solid foundations remain very much in place. But the truth is that it only takes one or two big shakes for us to feel like the whole world is crashing down around us.

For me, the war has been an almighty shaking. It’s now three months since the 7th October massacres and I still can’t find words for all the splintered thoughts and feelings that are spinning around inside my head… or inside my stomach… or wherever it is that they’re actually spinning.

And as if the war wasn’t enough, our son also faced an issue of discrimination at his school that we had to contest. The matter has now been resolved and the outcome was fair, but dealing with it was extremely stressful and took an emotional toll.

The morning after the school issue was finally resolved, and against the backdrop of intensifying Hezbollah rocket fire in the north, I went to our bedroom to lie down for a minute… and found myself unable to stand up again for nearly eight hours. I messaged Colin to say that he would have to take care of the kids and make lunch. I simply couldn’t move.

Of course, with two young children to care for, I couldn’t stay in bed forever. By evening time, I was up and about. I carried on with all my normal roles and responsibilities. From the outside, no one would know that anything was wrong. But inside, I could feel the heaviness.

The thing that interested me… and the reason why I am really writing now… is how quickly the little voice inside my head began to blame me for how I was feeling.

A few mornings after the “couldn’t get out of bed” day, I woke up with a voice inside my head saying (in a distinctly judgmental tone): “That’s it, you’re depressed!” As though it was a moral failure to be feeling this way.

Without missing a beat, the voice continued: “You’re weak. You’re faithless. You’re a terrible mother. You’re not doing anything useful for anyone during this war. What’s wrong with you…. Why can’t you just lighten up?!”

When I look at these words now, I can see them for the lies and accusations that they are. But when they first came tumbling into my mind, I couldn’t unpick them. They were too fast and too loud. And I was too tired and too flat. So they just landed straight into my spirit as a big ball of shame.

My first response was defensiveness. “I am not depressed! I am absolutely fine!” My thoughts raced to find quick fixes to make me happy. I should probably read some inspirational testimonies by people who found joy in much fierier trials than my own. I should go into spiritual battle declaring victory verses from God’s Word. I should do something fun with a friend or take myself on a shopping spree.

All these ideas have their place and can be really helpful, but deep down I knew that this wasn’t the right direction for me at this moment.

A voice deep down in the still place within me asked a gentle question: “Is it really wrong for you to be feeling heavy right now?”

I looked again with kind eyes at my own responses to recent events. Of course there was nothing wrong with me! In fact, more than that, I was doing amazingly well!

I was holding myself and my children together in the face of a war. I had made wise decisions to step back from some of my normal responsibilities in order to prioritise family during this turbulent period and give myself breathing space. I had stood my ground with my son’s school and successfully advocated for him to get the support he needed. Both children were flourishing despite the war raging on our borders. I was listening to my own body and doing the best I could to minimize stress. These were enormous achievements, and my priorities were spot on.

Of course I was feeling heavy! Who wouldn’t be feeling heavy in these circumstances? This didn’t make me weak. It made me human.

I felt the Holy Spirit wash over me with His grace. I felt deep in my spirit that my Heavenly Father was extremely proud of me. I allowed myself to rest in His arms for a few minutes and cry. Yes, there was sadness and grief in those moments, but there was also a very precious sense of intimacy with God. I would have lost out on those valuable moments if I had forced myself to smile when I really needed to cry.

After I had re-connected with God and re-connected with myself, I was ready to think about what I could do to make myself feel better. But the motivation was different now. I was no longer trying to defend myself against a cruel voice telling me that I was a failure for being sad. Instead, I wanted to do something kind to myself because I was precious and valuable and was having a difficult time.

So, I decided on something that I really wanted to do. Not some “happy fix” that I felt I ought to do.

I wanted to go somewhere beautiful and peaceful all by myself. I left Colin with the kids and drove down to a quiet, scenic stretch of the beach.

I took my shoes off and walked along the water’s edge. As I felt the sand on my feet and the gentle ebb and flow of the waves, my heaviness began to lift. Maybe it would settle upon me again later. And that would also be no cause for shame. But right at that moment, as I walked beside the glittering sea, I felt like God’s eyes rested upon me, and I knew that those eyes were full of fatherly pride.