You Are Not Alone: Beauty in the China Hutch
“Do not fear, for I have redeemed you; I have summoned you by name; you are mine” (Isaiah 43:1b.)
“Some people could be given an entire field of roses, and only see the thorns in it. Others could be given a single weed and only see the wildflower in it. Perception is a key component to gratitude. And gratitude is a key component to joy” (Amy Weatherly.)
I sit at my writing table and look at the beautiful red glass vase filled with fresh flowers my husband brought home for me a few days ago. The vase is swirled as a cone sea shell shaped with one side taller than the other. He purchased flowers and the vase two weeks before February 14 “so it will be ready for more fresh flowers on Valentine’s Day” he said, “besides, I like the vase.” It is just like him to do this and surprise me often. The flowers include two-toned pink and red roses, white lilies, and pink daisies. He brought them home and I put them on the table where I can look at them as I write.
Now, nearly two weeks after the day of love, they are looking worn. It’s time for me to trim the stems, give them fresh water and plant food to drink and put them back on the table where I can look at them until they begin to droop or look weary. Looking weary and drooping are two different things.
Looking weary supposes being physically or mentally exhausted by hard work, exertion, strain, etc.; fatigued; tired: a weary brain. Characterized by or causing fatigue: a weary journey.
(Being Droopy means hanging down limply; drooping. Lacking strength or spirit.
MGM Cartoons character
According to the Bing dictionary weary is noticed by the way one looks after a long day, week or period of time. The way I read it is that “droopy” is a state of being, lacking strength or spirit. Lacking spirit is entirely different than feeling weary. The 1943 MGM cartoon character Droopy featured in “Dumb-Hounded,” was a basset hound whose jowls hung down below his jaw. His eyes were half-closed, and he walked very slowly, looking like you could knock him over with a flick of the finger. His voice featured a nasal and monotone sound, like he had a clothespin on his nose. He was a visual of the basset hound stereotype – slow. He always appeared opposite a quick little squirrel named “Screwy.”
My flowers
I do not usually allow my flowers to become droopy, as I save them for drying before the petals turn brown and feel crunchy. Likewise, I always thought I was a the-glass-is-half-full person until I read the definition of droopy. I save my flowers from drooping, but I was in a state of droopiness some years ago. I used to believe I was just weary, but my physician diagnosed me with depression and I have seen a doctor for it from that time, thirty-four years ago. Only once have I tried to make it without medication and counseling and it was not pretty. My husband, pretty much, packed me up and took me to the doctor. I’ll never go through that again and what it put my family through.
Why, you ask, do I write about this along with flowers and cartoons? I love flowers and it was when I was always looking at my beautiful fresh flowers my husband brings me that I realized that I am not as good at seeing myself as I thought I was. Watching cartoons makes me laugh, but that is not who I always am, I understand cartoons are not real. Let me explain. For years I suffered under the weight of a cloud which I so brilliantly hid under a smile, cooking good food and being what people at church called “a great hostess.” I believed I hid the turmoil going on inside me. During those years, I patted myself on the back for the genius of my disguise as a wonderful hostess, an active mother, and an always-there wife. In secret I wrote in my journal of my inadequacies in life, what I had not accomplished, who I blamed for this, that, and the other. I cried and cried every time I took a shower and envisioned the water cleaning away the years of regret, fear, and ugliness down the drain with the tears, soap and water. I told everyone I enjoyed singing in the shower. I doubt my husband fell for it, but he knew from the time we met that there were many things I was very private about and did not talk about them until I was good and ready. I was always “fine.” I was never ready to peel the onion because of the stink.
For many years I had a daycare in our home and enjoyed being home and caring for my friend’s kids and teaching them as much as I could. Most of them came to me after birth and I cared them for years. I taught them even while four of them were in baby swings, two toddlers on a blanket eating a snack while I read a stack of books to them. We had field trips every Friday, yes, with four infants in two strollers, two toddlers walking along holding onto the strollers, and one half-day after kindergarten. We played in the leaves in the fall, the snow in the winter, brushed teeth after lunch and snacks, daily, had dramatic play and celebrated holidays and birthdays. We crafted at least twice weekly, danced to music, played dress up and pretended there were puppies in the large heat registers (when the heat was off) in the floor of the old house where we lived. During naptime in my daycare, I played classical music like Beethoven, Bach, Tchaikovsky, and others as loud as I could tolerate so that I could spend this time reading Lamentations and Job, crying as I journaled. When naptime was over, I turned off the horrible memories and feelings and took care of the kids until they went home. My two children and two others I cared for before and after school were gone during the day and home only after school. After daycare kids went home, we had our family supper, homework, games or movies, then our children went to bed. This occurred daily, kind of the same cycle and then I was able to turn it off after a time of tears and questions to God. This cycle lasted for several years, until there was an explosion.
My droopy time made my feelings, fears, regrets, memories, and family turn inside-out and I was not prepared. I thought I was holding it together so well. I found out I was going to have surgery and it was as if the large bag of garbage I carried on my back finally had too much weight inside. I could shove any other feelings into the feelings and adrenaline bag—there was no more room. The weight of it all was too much and the bottom broke out of the bag and it all fell out for everyone to see. They witnessed the real me at that point and I couldn’t hide any of it anymore.
My spirit flew away and it was not on the wings of a dove. It was in the claws of a crow. I could not get the ugly stuff back to hide it.
Someday I will write about how I survived and how God transformed me over many years through ups and downs. For now, I will say that lacking spirit is like having your petals fall off and becoming dry, brown, and crunchy. These petals are normally thrown away. The black crow carried the petals of my emotional life away, but God sent a dove to take them from the crow so the petals could have a time of healing in His healing hands.
Yes, I save my fresh flowers from their fate of turning, fading, and crunching in the bottom of the garbage. I am able to do this and I am willing to keep watch over them, care for them, in order to have something aged but looking bright and new again in my china hutch. I save them from the garbage because they were a gift from my husband. He gifted me something beautiful and I adore him for that!
God gave me a gift when He walked with me through my years of depression. He didn’t leave me alone and tell me it was too bad I hid everything from everyone all those years. He didn’t say it was too bad I had lied about who I was and what I was truly dealing with. Instead, He pruned me as needed and checked on me constantly, He saved me from the garbage heap. He watered and fed me. He retrieved my soul from the black crow, held my hand and told me He loved me and died for me. I did find a good doctor and counselor, but, above all, He is the greatest Counselor. He helped me through many things with my family, memories, and fears. He traded the lies the evil one told me and gave me Truth. At times, He stood quietly, sometimes allowing me to struggle in order to acknowledge I could not get through anything without Him. He taught me to worship and praise, He made sure I remembered to pray continually and read the Bible daily. Finally, I was able to give it to Jesus and walk with Him knowing I was anointed and able to hold His hand as He held mine. Before this time, the shame of my life kept me from allowing Him to hold me. He placed me in a beautiful place where I could share His beauty with others.
This is what my beautiful dried flower petals do. If you wait too long the color fades as they dry and they turn brown and crunchy. I take care to watch over them and prepare them before they are dead. This way, others can share their beauty while they stay so colorful and something so beautiful in the china hutch I received from my mother-in-law.
God does this for me daily. He has turned me into something beautiful and good.
Something Beautiful
Something beautiful, something good
All my confusion He understood
All I had to offer Him was brokenness and strife
But he made something beautiful of my life.
If there ever were dreams
That were lofty and noble
They were my dreams at the start
And the hope for life's best were the hopes
That I harbor down deep in my heart
But my dreams turned to ashes
And my castles all crumbled, my fortune turned to loss
So I wrapped it all in the rags of my life and laid it at the cross
Something beautiful, something good
All my confusion He understood
All I had to offer Him was brokenness and strife
But He made something beautiful of my life.
By Bill Gaither
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