A Fog of Discouragement

I had an email from a friend the other day expressing admiration at my Christian walk. To be honest I have a hard time seeing myself in that picture. There are plenty of times I feel discouraged and just want to hide. Like right now, for example. It creeps in like this smog, and is just as toxic because like smog, it obscures my view and prevents me from seeing the big picture.

1962: Deadly smog moves across Britain
A thick and polluted fog continued to spread across Britain today, sending hundreds to hospitals and proving deadly for at least 67 in London alone. Today was the fourth day Britain was plagued by the smog.

“Conditions were the worst since the ‘killer smog’ of 1952 which caused 4,000 fatalities in four days. The deadly concentration of smoke and sulphur dioxide in the atmosphere was quickly approaching the levels of the smog which took the heavy toll almost 10 years ago. Doctors offices were jammed with sufferers of respiratory ailments, such as asthma, bronchitis, choking from the dense and soot-laced mists,” reported The Independent on December 6, 1962.

Really, things have been quite bad since August. My mother and daughter were hit by a drunk driver, my daughter already had an injured shoulder which was made much worse by the wreck, and needed surgery and extensive physical therapy. My husband had an injury at work which will prevent him from doing his old job. So there are a lot of adjustments to be made, both now while he’s recovering from his surgery and then for the rest of his life. I’ve got some new, serious health problems, and it’s bad enough to feel bad physically, but my vanity – such as it is – is taking a serious beating as my hair falls out. I used to have great hair. Now, not so much.

Worst of all, my mother’s roommate – a coworker she took in after Katrina destroyed her home – is dying of cancer. She’s not going to be mobile much longer. She selected a casket and bought an outfit that she wants to be laid out in. So my mother has to deal with a houseload of Palestinians with wild children on one side, and a neighbor nearly as obnoxious on the other, and in the middle she’s learning how to give shots and take care of a terminally ill friend.

My city is, if not terminally ill, pretty darn sick. According to this study, one third of the residents want to leave. People want the rebuilding to be accomplished faster, and at the same time, people are not happy that we’re being overrun by illegal aliens. Well, they’re the main group who is showing up to do the rebuilding, and we can’t have it both ways. The business climate here is decidedly odd, and I’m tired of dealing with it. On the political front, it’s looking like William Jefferson will actually be re-elected, much to our shame. Although the best I can say for his opponent is that she has not yet been caught with her hand in the cookie jar, it is half empty and she’s standing right next to it. You do the math. So much for the vaunted Katrina political shakeup.

So I’m standing in the middle of this fog of discouragement. And while there are billions of people on the planet with more severe problems than me, these are my problems, and they are legitimate too. What to do?

A worldly answer – and this is even effective, as far as it goes, anyway. Start thinking about all the great stuff in my life. For example, in spite of the fact that we no longer have a building, our church is still going strong. We’re splitting services between a church that is kind enough to rent us the facilities on Saturday, and a movie theater on Sunday. And we’re finally – more than a year after Katrina – going to be able to start with the repairs on our house. And I’ve found a company to do it that doesn’t hire illegal aliens. My daughter is on track to enter a national opera competition in the spring; her voice teacher says she’ll be ready and do great. And if I need to have a good cry, I can watch Steel Magnolias on our home theater system, larger than life and in 5.1 surround sound.

The problem with that, and another dozen or more things I could list, is that I could lose them all overnight. Another Katrina could come, for example, and we’d be back to ground zero. There’s no use looking for comfort in material possessions.

The only way to dispel this fog is to let the Son burn it off. To think about the eternal blessings that can never be taken from me. To think about what He’s already done for me and how He brought me to this point. To remember what being blessed really means, and how amazingly little it has to do with material possessions or desirable circumstances.