GOD'S HELPING HAND

I think everyone has heard the story about the guy who was drowning and asked God to save him. Boats came along to help him and he refused because he said he was waiting for God to help him. When he drowned he asked God why he didn't help him. God told him he had sent him boats. God sends us help in the same way in our own lives. We have to choose whether or not to take it. In our struggles with mental illness, God sends us help. He gives us therapists, psychiatrists, medication, determination, strength, courage and much more.

In my last blog, I talked about determination. Determination is a gift from God. He placed it deep within us all and we just have to decide to use it. He gave us many gifts such as this. He gave us strength to fight and the courage to push forward. These are more than just gifts; they are God reaching down, giving us a helping hand.

While I was ill, I was like that man drowning. God kept reaching out and I kept turning away. I stopped going to church, I focused on taking my life, and I doubted his existence. I turned away from anything and anyone who had something to do with God. I lay at the bottom of the hole, dwelling in my pain, thinking God had abandoned me, so I figured I was going to do the same to him. I couldn't see that God was sending me a rope to climb my way out. I was like that man who was drowning. I refused God's help.

I was determined to prove I wasn't stupid in school, but I refused to use my determination to climb out of my hole. God gave me loving parents and grandparents to help me through my illness, but I hid my deep sadness from them. I lived with my grandparents and put a smile on for them while quietly injuring and attempting suicide behind their backs. My mom confronted me about wounds she saw on my arms and I lied to her. God gave me strength to face my illness, but I refused to use it.

It wasn't until I found pamphlets on depression that I was willing to reach out for the rope. God sent me help and slowly step by step I started using it. I turned to my mom who worked hard to find me a good therapist. I found my buried strength, courage and determination to work towards recovery. I spent several years in recovery before becoming ill again.

It wasn't until I met my friend Kelly, who helped me ask God into my life, that I could see all the times God sent me help. The closer I came to knowing God ,the more I realized that all the strength, courage, determination, good therapists, good psychiatrists, friends and family who helped me reach recovery were God's helping hands and his gifts to help me.

So open your eyes, reach out for the lifelines, and know that God is there sending you his help. I'm dancing in the light because of God.