in which I continue to hold my hand, and others sit beside me
Yesterday I was immersed in the depth of depression's darkness.
In the evening, I watched a favourite movie.
This morning I somehow managed to convince myself to do my tai chi stretches and breathing. Breathing Spirit. Reaching. Searching.
Checking my phone a comment on my blog 'you are loved'; an email expressing concern from family.
Setting up for gathered worship at Belair, a friend heard my story, gave me a hug, and prayed with me.
Worship was rich, deep, engaging, as we entered the stories of Jesus in Jerusalem, beginning with enacting the Palm Sunday parade on entry, then stations for five Holy Week stories before enacting the supper Jesus shared with his friends with Holy Communion.
Home, netball on tv. I love netball.
A phone call from a friend. Do you need company or solitude? I am here.
After lunch, round to mum and dad's. Mum had invited me, though it wasn't an invitation. It was an order: we want to see you. I didn't really feel like talking, but we watched more sport together. I talked a bit. They had advice. Didn't press.
Home, football on tv. A walk at half time. Breathing Spirit. Breath. Life.
More football. Then watched Glee. Pizza for tea. More recorded favourites on tv.
And gradually, lightness, light ... ever so gradually.