Continuing with my original entry from a week ago, all I really had to do was go out and do it.
Suffering from a small lull in my positivity on Saturday night, I debated between going to a bar or staying home. I didn’t think I would have fun that night at the bar because I wasn’t feeling well.
Glad I had family occupy my time that night. Namely my Uncle Greg.
We chatted on Facebook about what was bothering me lately. Then he popped out a question about church, and whether I considered it.
Religion is something that I never quite grasped seriously. I remember going to First Congregational in Rock Falls when I was young, but only for a couple of years. Then I went to another chuch in Sterling for only a few months. Spiritual presences are something that I have a hard time of sensing, probably due to Autism.
The bible was more of a life advice book for me than anything. I kept a copy of a Gideon bible that was handed out to us before one middle school day. I guess just to have, really. It wasn’t until about 3 years ago when I was depressed to the point where I just started opening it, thinking that the first page I turned to would give me something, anything.
I had no idea this particular bible had a section titled “Where to Find Help, When.” The index pointed out bible verses to turn to with the particular problems I was having. Once I felt better, I simply placed the small book back on my bookshelf.
One day, a couple of summers ago, I did something I rarely ever did. I guess it came to the point where I thought the only answer to the problem was to communicate to the Lord, because the problem didn’t seem fixable by my two hands.
When I met my best friend in the summer of 2013, we were in opposite worlds. In particular, I guess I “had it made” more than she did. Her house wasn’t quite the best, and the kids I had come to know had a much different childhood than the one I had – let’s just put it at that. I felt kind of bad. Here was this person that came into my life, made a BIG impact on it, and wishing she was in a better situation. I wanted to do something to give in return. I’m not a praying person, but I prayed one night to have the Lord look after that family and guide them to much better surroundings.
I won’t take any credit for this, but life for them seems to have been bettter from that day forward; and one step back meant five steps forward. Even today, wherever they are, I continue to pray for them.
I wrote previously about how my life was so much happier when we were best friends, and how a few stupid decisions of mine destroyed that friendship. I tried everything in my own power to pick up the pieces and find happiness once again – small decisions such as rearranging my living room, smart decisions such as overhauling my finances, and bold decisions such as leaving Shell.
On days that I had free time away from work, I devoted time sitting in my living room with a notepad or two thinking about ways to make my own life better than it was yesterday. In essence, I’m trying to find the right “system” to make my days more functional than not.
More of my days became happier, but there were a few times I would relapse back into a depressive spell. I’d let people know about it on Facebook, with no response – likely because no one really knew I was suffering.
Thank the good Lord that Uncle Greg reached out to me Saturday night.
The only place I had been trying to find social help was in the bars, because that was the place that where I became introduced to more people back in happier days. For other people, trying to find hgelp in this regard hasn’t worked. Particularly, because almost everyone sitting on a barstool has some kind of dark cloud hanging over their lives, and I would just find myself wrapped up in it, be chewed and spit out.
The phrase that Greg typed to me that stood out the most was “good people.” Sunday mornings at church are full of good people. I thought, perhaps interacting with good people would be beneficial to me.
That was enough to get me doing something I had never done in my adult life.
I went to church on Sunday. Rock River Christian Center. The same church where my cousin Joshua (Greg’s son) preached at before his outreach work in New Orleans. I only recognized a couple of people there: Andy, a classmate of mine from school; and Joshua’s father in law.
Sitting next to Andy for the service, I forgot how things went. I didn’t bring any money, and completely forgot about wine and bread. Didn’t even bring a bible. But as I sat and listened to the pastor, I tried to find something that I could take away from the service and apply to my own struggles. I may not quite understand the comprehensive messages at first, but I’m grasping bits and pieces that will hopefully make me understand Sunday’s topics fully.
The phrase “resting on your laurels” spoke to me. I hadn’t heard that phrase in a long time, and I soon realized what that really meant. That means, pretty much, not to be satisfied that you simply have it. The analogy used was when the Holy Spirit enters your body, it is prone to be leaked out of me. I have to do things to keep that Spirit in there.
When I got my job at the newspaper, and my best friend was in her car accident (both happening 3 weeks apart), our lives changed. I thought, I have this best friendship and it can take care of itself because there’s no tearing us apart. So much for that. I rested on my laurels during this time, and look what happened.
I’ve got a lot of good things in my life that I do’t want to let go of. Perhaps it’s time I stepped up my game.