THOSE FEBRUARY BLAHS

It’s February again.  Smack dab in the middle of winter February can launch everyone into the blahs.  Every February I find myself in the same place, under a gloomy gray cloud, literally and figuratively.  February nearly always has this effect on me, yet it seems to somehow sneak up on me, until I realize that I have a case of the blahs again, and remember, oh, yeah, it’s February.

February, with its gloomy skies, mounds of snow, cold, cabin fever, is a recipe for the blahs, but for me, there is so much more about February that accounts for my gray cloud.  I lost both my parents in February. 

My dad died in his sleep twelve years ago now on February 10 after years of battling heart disease.  When we visited him that previous December he had already been told to put his affairs in order, so his death just two months later came as no surprise. However, even when death is expected, it still hurts.  Since my birthday is also in February, I spent the day of my birthday at Dad’s funeral. 

Seven Februarys ago now, on February 21^st, I lost my mom.  What was initially diagnosed as a case of bronchitis, turned out to be a faulty heart valve, but a stroke kept her from having the surgery needed to repair it.  So just five weeks later, she was gone, and the loss was harder.  That year I spent my birthday keeping a hospital vigil.

Since the mid-80s I had been involved in the ministry of Bible Study Fellowship International.  It pretty much defined my life of ministry for nearly 18 years.  When Mom got sick I resigned so that I could stay with her.  I sent the letter of resignation to BSF headquarters on my birthday.

So February is a tough month for me – so many memories – so many losses.  You’d think by now I’d be expecting these February blahs.  Nope, they continue to take me by surprise until I look up and see that little gray cloud.

There was a time when February wasn’t the only time I walked around under a little gray cloud.  A good deal of my life, from as far back as I can remember, I always felt somewhat “low” with the burden of a cloud, the cause of which I never thought to seek.  It was just who I was.

Now that I have the benefit of hindsight, I realize that my cloud was passed on to me through a gene pool.  I think now that one side of my family labored under the cloud of depression.  They tended to be folks whose glasses were always half empty.  Their medication of choice for the lowness of their cloud was alcohol.  One of them committed suicide.  Being low was who they were.  The best they thought to do was cope with it.  I felt it too and assumed it was just normal.

As a Christian, I’d heard others say that the Lord is all we need to cope with things like that.  So I did all the things I thought would help.  I read my Bible, I prayed, I wholeheartedly sought the Lord and tried to live a godly life in the power of the Holy Spirit.  Except for short periods of time when I caught a glimpse of sunshine, the gray cloud just wasn’t budging.  At least once during a serious family crisis, the little gray cloud became full blown depression, robbing me not only of happiness, but of all energy, focus and reasonable thought.

Finally, when a second crisis hit our family, I spoke to my doctor about medication.  For me, it seemed a last resort.  I had tried to up my closeness to the Lord and it was not enough.  I feared lapsing back into a real depression and didn’t want to go there again.  So I began taking an anti-depressant. 

I remember exactly where I was three weeks later.  I was driving home, stopped at a red light, and had a thought.  The thought was, “this must be what it’s like to feel normal”.  I was not euphoric, I was not “high”, I just felt right.  There was no sign of my companion, that little gray cloud.

That was about six years ago now and I continue to take medication.  It was only after taking the meds that I realized what joy was.  Until then I had never experienced joy – the joy of fun, the joy of my family, the joy of ministry, the joy of the Lord, the joy of just plain living.  I was occasionally happy, but never joyful.  Now I know what joy is.

Needless to say, I am not one of those Christians who tries to encourage people who feel the way I did to just trust the Lord to bring healing.  I believe we DO need to trust the Lord to bring healing!  But sometimes His healing comes through medicine.  He is the author of that too. 

So, once again I am experiencing the February blahs, but now I know that once February is over, the blahs will go with it.  They are situational and temporary.  And I can now truly and honestly say, “the joy of the Lord is my strength”.