Sea Balm

As a Christian, who fully believes in, and has personally experienced, the healing love and power of The Living God, I have wrestled with whether or not I should continue taking medication for lingering symptoms of manic depression, and for problems with attentional focus. However, I recently endured a second round of shingles, which upset an already-irregular sleep pattern, exacerbated the widespread neuropathy I’ve had since a rollover car wreck several years ago, and I was left weak and frazzled.

What happened was, I ended up going a few days, in which I missed multiple doses of a couple of medications, and almost immediately, found myself extremely depressed, flooded with innumerable thoughts, being sleepless as much as 36 hours at a time, and with at least two fewer friends.

As I struggled to understand what might be the will of God in such a predicament, I found myself trying to make sense of conflicting ideas. From what I understand though, at least two factors are involved. First, we live in a sinful, fallen world. So, until we leave this earthly plane, we will be plagued with a certain amount of human frailty. 

Second, there is a principle spoken by our Lord that says, “According to your faith, be it unto you.” It’s obvious to me that my faith needs to grow daily. One way that I work on my faith is through writing out my thoughts, and trying to make sense of them. 

Sea Billows Roll

I must take my medicine.

I must. I must. I must.

I cannot leave those bottles sealed,

to gather so much dust.

If I don’t take my medicine,

I fight, I flight, I cry.

And then, it seems my only course

is just lay down and die.

I wasn’t always so bizarre:

I once was just a child

who played, and danced, and sang a lot,

and, ‘most the time, I smiled.

I dreamed I’d be a great success.

At what—I’d no idea.

I’d blaze some trails, be first, be best.

Those visions filled my sails.

Yet, as I grew, my course, it changed.

I sought, instead, for love.

I searched and bargained, dreamily;

sought nothing from Above.

This course, it grew so crooked;

my dreams they grew so dim.

Imagination clouded, yet,

I looked not up to Him.

At last, long last, I floundered.

My tears, they tumbled down.

My ship of dreams had sunk so low,

it finally ran aground.

I found myself in roiling seas,

a tempest tore my soul.

My dreams were dashed in pieces,

as I lost sight of my goals.

Far down, and down, I drifted;

the depths, they covered me.

I thought my life would end right there,

if no one heard my plea.

At last, I reached the bottom;

in stillness, I lay there.

I thought, in fact, my life was done.

I really didn’t care.

The darkness grew so cold, and yes, 

my passions did, as well.

No view, no songs, no fantasies.

I’d sunk right into hell.

Then, suddenly, I felt a sound, 

a still, small Voice, to me.

I heard, “I know.” And, that was all.

Two words that set me free.

So, I was lifted upward,

and was set upon the shore.

An Anchor stood beside me there.

My feet were standing sure.

I found another ship of dreams, 

I journeyed on again.

This time, my course was truer than

it’d ever, ever been.

A problem came to plague me, though,

in spite of well-made plans:

a cargo holding baggage, which 

was not from Master’s Hands.

So, piece by piece, I cast it off.

I’d held it way too long.

“Don’t trouble me, you burdens.

This weight feels just so wrong!”

My destination’s out there.

Of this, I am assured, 

if I can just endure this sea,

whose storms must be endured.

So, I must take my medicine.

No seasick mate am I.

I must be watching at my post;

the sails are billowing high.

There’s precious souls aboard this ship.

A charge so precious, dear.

But, one day—yes—we’ll all be there,

with nothing left to fear!

Copyright 2016 by Regina Plimpton Quinn

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