The gift of depression is compassion. I look in the mirror everyday and know that I am broken.
Elegiac tells me that I should stay there, captured by this narcissistic reflection.
Yet to do so is to miss the truth that I see through a glass dimly, that “now I only see in part, then I will see in full.”
And that often my reflection as seen through the lens of depression is not how God sees me.
Knowing that I am broken can incapacitate me.
Or it can serve as the humble catalyst for me to show grace and mercy, compassion and gentleness, and above all, patience, to others.
Tonight, I will serve a meal to women whose lives have been upended in ways that leave me breathless. They are broken like me. Yet they are strong, so strong.
They are always gracious, kind, and encouraging and I always leave feeling like I have received more than I have given.
And for the briefest of moments, I do not feel the weight of Elegiac and Lethargy, my everpresent twins, upon my shoulders.