Amazing Grace and Other Such Suffering

The next few days will be critical for me.

On Tuesday I will be having back surgery.  Spinal Stenosis is the diagnosis, affecting L3, L4, and L5.  Lumbar decompression surgery, a lamenotomy, is the cure.  Basically, because of aging the passage ways in my spine have narrowed and my nerves are getting pinched off.  This causes pain in my legs and a loss of functions such as muscle control and balance.  I can only walk short distances.  The surgery should fix that.  But, there will be pain and suffering with recovery.  I've been forewarned that I  need to avoid getting discouraged and losing heart because of the suffering that will come.  The pain will subside in time.  The symptoms will not immediately abate following surgery, in part because of the swelling.  But give it time, live through the suffering, and eventually a new and better reality will emerge.

"My President Sang Amazing Grace".  Joan Baez recorded that song remembering the events in Charleston and Barrack Obama's message.

A young man came to a house of prayer
They did not ask what brought him there
He was not friend, he was not kin
But they opened the door and let him in

And for an hour the stranger stayed
He sat with them and seemed to pray
But then the young man drew a gun
And killed nine people, old and young

In Charleston in the month of June
The mourners gathered in a room
The President came to speak some words
And the cameras rolled and the nation heard

But no words could say what must be said
For all the living and the dead
So on that day and in that place
The President sang Amazing Grace
The President sang Amazing Grace

We argued where to lay the blame
On one man's hate or our nation's shame
Some sickness of the mind or soul
And how the wounds might be made whole

But no words could say what must be said
For all the living and the dead
So on that day and in that place
The President sang Amazing Grace
My President sang Amazing Grace

Songwriters: Zoe Mulford

Why do we sing of grace at a time of suffering?

There is a truth that we do not like to acknowledge.  We'd like grace to be a wonderful, happy, blessed and "amazing" experience.  And yet the truth is that suffering is intimately connected to grace.  Grace is a transformative power, but such change only comes in response to suffering and brings with it suffering as the status quo is shaken.  

Perhaps this is the 'costly grace' of which Dietrich Bonhoeffer wrote.  I'd suggest there actually is no 'cheap grace'.  Because grace is never experienced apart from suffering.

Whether its in the basement of a church in Charleston, or in my old neighborhood in Minneapolis, the racist powers are on display in our world.  Systemic evil.  We'd like to change it.  And we'd like for that change to come apart from suffering.  It won't.  

Confession, repentance, and penance are necessary suffering.  The hardest words I've ever spoke are "I am an alcoholic."  And the pain our nation is experiencing is similar.  "We are still racist."  When Obama was elected many of us embraced the hope that racism had finally gone away.  After all, we elected a black president, didn't we?  But that presidency triggered the deep divide that remains part of the American soul.  It rips us to the core.  

Grace awaits us, but will not come without suffering.  Healing happens but it comes at a cost.

"Blessed are you when people revile you and persecute you and utter all kinds of evil against you falsely on my account. Rejoice and be glad, for your reward is great in heaven, for in the same way they persecuted the prophets who were before you.

Jesus knew that grace came at a cost.  Grace and a cross.  "Take up your cross and follow me."

But don't be naive.  Evil will not simply go away.  One of the most distressing things about the Book of Revelation is that it speaks of the great and final battle that will be fought to destroy for all time the powers of evil.  Distressing in that to the end of the age, evil will remain with us.  Racism is not going away.  Nor any of the other plagues that haunt the human experience and soul.

Grace is not the period that marks the end of suffering but the liberation and transformation that we experience in the midst of it, a transcendent experience of rising above it.

Our nation is reeling under the pain and suffering of racism.  But in the midst of the suffering grace will abound.  And where grace abounds suffering is redemptive.  It is hard to say, but the suffering and death of one like Dr. Martin Luther King is at one and the same time both a great evil and a grace filled event redemptive in its scope.  Grace is the power by which goodness rises to the top like cream separates from the milk.  

One final thought.  If we face this struggle with the conviction that we must defeat evil for all time we will be deeply disappointed and lose heart.  Our challenge is to live by grace which means rising above the suffering and pain and being transformed.  Goodness and grace in this way is not the lack of evil, but a response to evil.  The most grace filled words Jesus ever spoke were "Father, forgive them; for they do not know what they are doing."  These words spoken from the cross in the midst of great suffering are redemptive and transformative, both to Jesus as he spoke them, and to all who hear them. 

Humility, Gratitude, and the Depth of Love

One of the thing I remember about growing up was the care packages we received from our extended family.  In particular, I remember one package that contained some pants for me.  My aunt and uncle, recognizing that our pastor's family often struggled to get by on the salary our church provided, had sent a box of hand-me-down clothes.  Only one problem, my cousin David was short and stocky, I was tall and skinny.  The pants I received were the correct length, but required a substantial, and I mean substantial, tuck to be taken in the waste line for me to wear.  The fit was such that my friends initially thought I had the first bell bottom pants in the school.  All that aside, our need was real, and the graciousness of the Michaelson's to recognize that need and offer their assistance was generous, and, underlying it was a depth of love.

Fast forward half a century.

Dammit, I'd like to be entirely self sufficient.  Pride can itself be a debilitating thing.  The truth is that all that has happened with my disability, with the change in my employment status, with medical bills, with coping with the challenges of life itself has left me in the position of either needing to recognize the need for help, and accept what help is available-- or to sink.

It's one thing to preach about Jesus Christ as being the Savior of the world.  It's quite another to admit I need a savior.

I'd rather be the savior.  This is particularly true of my manic side.  I've had some opportunities over the years to be the savior.  For example, when my daughter faced the challenge of student teaching.  Substantial tuition, little financial aid, a requirement that she not work outside of student teaching, oh, and a car that went belly up in the midst of it all left her needing some help.  "Daddy finance" came into play.  The total of those expenses tallied up to more than my gross income for that period, but I found a way.  I know it was hard for her to admit she needed help, and she was deeply grateful for the help that came.  There was another dimension of it, and that was the opportunity it gave me to act in love.

Ministry also offered me the opportunity to 'save' people from time to time.  Intervening in situations of spousal abuse, channeling donations to those in need, helping people negotiate the difficult decisions of life and death-- and many more examples.  It feels good to be the savior.

It's quite another thing to admit one needs a savior.

The last five and a half years have been humbling in that regard.  And I'm deeply grateful for the assistance that has been offered to me and my family.  But most of all, I'm overwhelmed by the depth of love that has been shown to us, through this whole set of circumstances.

The last night my father was alive we had a wonderful conversation.  At the end of it, as we each expressed our desire to have many more conversations like this, I apologized.  My work schedule had severely limited the amount of time I had to spend with dad, even though he lived with us.  "But," I told him, "at least its keeping the bills paid."  His response, and the last words he spoke to me, was "Well, my hope is that my being here will take some of the burden off you."  One of the beautiful things about Dad coming to live with us was that we could help him, and he was able to help us.

When I first entered the ministry, and was at Thompson Falls, the congregation was unable to meet expenses and pay my salary.  Recognizing our predicament, Mom and Dad joined our congregation even though it meant driving 75 miles to attend church, and became the largest contributors.  Dad was overjoyed that I had become a pastor but also was deeply aware, because of his own experience, of the financial challenges we would face.  Both he and mom tried to help as they could.

As I faced disability, unemployment, and all that went with it, he was concerned.  Dad realized that our financial challenges were far greater than those of my other siblings.  Each of them, and their spouses, had done well in professions that paid much more than pastoral ministry.  Dad was concerned for us.

What I found out this last week was that Dad asked one of my siblings to make sure that we'd be alright after he was gone.  I was emotionally overwhelmed when I found out about that.  Tears come to my eyes as I write this.

This would be 'touching' in many circumstances.  When the reality is that we have indeed needed help, and need help, it is moving to the depth of my soul.  I am grateful.  I feel loved and cared for.

I don't know where we'd be if it weren't for such love and care.  It has come to us from a variety of people in a variety of ways.  Even when we couldn't meet the challenges that presented themselves, others have stepped up to help.  Humility.  Gratitude. And allowing people to show their love in concrete ways.

To be on the receiving end of loving care is a blessed thing.  It is to experience grace.

I wouldn't understand or appreciate God's grace nearly as much without these experiences of grace shown to me.  When everything is going wonderfully well, we don't need grace.  We can make it on our own.  At the risk of overstating my case, it seems to me that unless we experience the need for grace, we will never appreciate the gift of grace.

Today, I am grateful.  For grace.  For love.  And for the people God has surrounded us with.

Sifting through Advice

Having received the report of the psychologist that recently evaluated me, I find myself seeking discernment.  What do I make of it all, and how can I best utilize the advice offered there.  I've already shared that there are some things that came out of this process that I am, oh shall I say, humored by.  That my number one vocational choice, according to one test, is to be a librarian floored me.  Not on the radar screen.  Nope, no way, no how.  

There are other suggestions within the final report that seem good on the surface but which are easier said than done.  Re-evaluate the condition of my knees, considering a second opinion, to the end that I might pursue an intentional exercise program to reduce stress.  OK, so that sounds good enough, but a psychologist's opinion about the state of my knees pales in comparison to the agreement of two orthopedic surgeons, one of whom operated on me.  I have a degenerative condition.  The old knees are going to continue to get worse.  The menisci are wasting away.  Eventually it will be bone on bone.  In the mean time I've been told to hold off as long as possible, and then will come the process of injections, followed by knee replacement.  It makes extensive exercise a challenge.

Its not that I'm adverse to exercise as a means of dealing with stress, cardiovascular health, or even my depression and insomnia.  I used to walk hours at night to unwind.  Just ask the people in Baker and Thompson Falls, some of whom called the police to report the "prowler" walking the streets late at night.  I probably logged ten miles a night during those times, even in the dead of winter.  

The struggle now is that I have a choice.  If I exert myself with exercise, my knees are so sore that it is difficult to make it through the next day's work.  One activity pays the bills, the other doesn't.  You choose. . .

I will have to admit that I also take the importance of intentional exercise with a grain of salt.  You see, when I was working a desk job, the importance of physical exercise was pretty straight forward.  Today, I'm putting in 10 hour days doing physically demanding labor.  I may not be "exercising" but I'm quite physically active.  

The importance of reducing stress is not lost on me though.  Its just that there is more than one way to skin a cat.  Walking may help cope with it, but I've found getting at the root of it is even more important.

One development that I wouldn't have predicted is the effect of "diversifying my portfolio", to coin a phrase.  Necessity required that following my resignation from my last call, I find ways to survive financially.  For a while I had disability benefits, I was working at my own business, and thankfully, Karla had a good job.  When disability benefits stopped, I was able to find a job in a cabinet shop, which together with the business and Karla's work, met our needs.  And currently, I have also received an offer to re-enter ministry on a part time basis.

The net result is that our livelihood is no longer dependent on any one thing.  Our eggs are no longer all in one basket.  I am amazed at how much that has reduced the stress that I experience.  There will be something to fall back on if changes should occur.  

All this is to say, that some very good goals came out of the evaluation (being a librarian, excepted!!), but how I pursue those goals may be different than suggested.  But then, that's what discernment is all about.

Resilience

"Well, Dave, you certainly get the "land on your feet" award for the year!"

These were the words of my colleague back in '99 when having been just terminated from a call in SE Montana, I received a call to serve in Sandpoint, ID.  It could have been so much worse.  And over the next 13 years I was to experience what will likely be the highlight of my career in the ministry, though I hesitate to say that because who knows what is yet to come.

More recently, my bishop said "I continue to be amazed at your resilience."  I like that word, resilience.  Life presents no small amount of challenges.  In the midst of those challenges we are invited to live by faith, believing that God will deliver us.  We will not be spared difficult times-- into every life there will come challenges, many of which might defeat us, if we let them.  What God promises, though, is to deliver us, not spare us.  Resilience is a gift of the Spirit I believe.  And it is  rooted in the promises of God.

When the prophets speak about the remnant that shall return, they speak about the resilience of God's people.  That though the nation was destroyed, nevertheless, God will preserve a remnant, and from that remnant a renewed and restored nation will arise.  A shoot shall come out from the stump of Jesse.  Resilience.

I mentioned in my last post that the congregation where I've been serving as a supply pastor was voting on offering me the position of interim/transitional minister.  Yet to be determined is whether the position will be an interim, or transitional ministry, the difference being that a transitional pastor may in time be offered a regular call to serve the congregation.  But that's a question for tomorrow.  

What I am well aware of today is that it's been nearly four years since my health required that I leave the ministry, and now today, I have been asked once again to serve under call.  There have been times in the last four years that I thought this day would never come.  I imagined that my being bipolar would make it all but impossible to serve again.  But today, the people of Peace Lutheran will call me "Pastor Dave".  Bouncing back, resilience, a spiritual gift.

I have been amazed at how this has happened.  Sometimes, God's timing is impeccable.  When I was being terminated from my call in eastern Montana, back in 1999, there were two council meetings that were pivotal.  At the first, a report was received from the Synod that stated that I should not be terminated.  The next night, the council rejected that report, and voted to move forward with the termination process.  In between those two meetings, I received a phone call, out of the blue, from a woman in Sandpoint asking if she could nominate me to be their next pastor.  I subsequently received that call.  

Over the last few years, we have been deeply dependent on my wife's job, and those benefits.  Currently, there is a change of leadership at her place of employment, and with that changing of the guard there are new expectations and there is significant uncertainty how she will fit into the new leadership team.  The security blanket which has sustained us throughout these last four years is now in question.  The only thing that is certain is that things are changing.

What amazes me is that even before those matters are resolved plan "B" (or is it plan C, D, or E) is in place.  I have been asked to serve Peace Lutheran on a half time basis, and my employer at the cabinet shop has consented to the change of schedule necessary so that I might work there as well, with the net result that my income will now be sufficient to maintain our household.  Resilience.

Again, I am convinced that resilience is not a personal ability, but a gift of the Spirit.  It is by the grace of God that we are able to come out on the other side of life's challenges, living to see another day.  And as the old adage says, "if it doesn't kill you, it will make you stronger."

Having said that, there is one thing I would like to say to God.  I think I'm strong enough, now.  Let's take a break from all the adversity for a while and settle into a stable new "normal".  It would be appreciated.

"And not only that, but we also boast in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, and hope does not disappoint us, because God's love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit that has been given to us."

Resilience.

Sufficiency, Stability, and the Grace of God

There is a fear that has accompanied the experiences of the last few years.  We have experienced on challenge after another.  None of them have proven to be insurmountable.  We gotten through them.  For example, on numerous occasions I've been overwhelmed with the implications of my income taking one hit after another.  Financial ruin has seemed to loom on the horizon.  But those fears never materialized.  However, even as I have experienced this good fortune, I've continued to fear that sooner or later the other shoe will drop.

Yet, to date, our experience has been that with each challenge there have been the resources to deal with that.  Case in point, earlier this year I had to have a hernia repair.  Surgery is a major expense even with insurance.  And yet, we were able to pay cash for the deductible and co-pay.  And now, it seems as though the other shoe has dropped.  My wife requires surgery and it is scheduled for  tomorrow.  Yet once again, we have the resources to pay cash for the deductible and co-pay.  Two surgeries in one year.  Fears abound and yet are unfounded.

Sufficiency is what I'm learning.  I may not always have what I want, but what I have will be sufficient.  

And then, there is stability.  The meds seem to be working.  Life happens.  Sometimes shit happens.  But those things that at one point would have thrown me into mania or depression are not having that effect now.  One response to that is to wonder why I'm not more excited or depressed about life events.  For better or worse, what I've been accustomed to is fairly major responses to this experiences.  That's the nature of being bipolar.  Mood swings exceed the normal.  And yet, I'm getting used to a new normal.  And that takes some getting used to.  

Through it all, with every passing day, I am becoming more and more aware of the Grace of God.  Not only that, but learning anew the art of living one day at a time.  You see, by God's grace I have come to believe that I will have enough to meet the needs of today.  I may not have enough to 'guarantee' that tomorrow's needs will be met.  But for today, we're good.

My wife asked a couple days ago a question about this.  Namely, "Why us?"  There have been many people who have experienced financial hardships that have resulted in their losing their home.  Does it make sense to talk about the grace of God allowing us to keep ours, while others lose theirs?  Well, the truth is that losing our home may be another issue that we have to face sometime in the future.  I don't know.  There are no guarantees.

What I do believe is that if we are not able to keep this home, if we have to sell, we will still have enough.  I don't fear ending up living in the WalMart parking lot.  

And  yet there is another dimension.  That whether we have much, or little, what we have is and always will be, a gift from God.  And I guess that is what I've learned through all of this.

And one final word.  Today the congregation I serve will be voting to extend an offer to me to serve as their pastor.  What the future is in all this, I do not know.  But for today, it seems right.

And today is all we've got.

"Marian, Madam Librarian:"

Ah, the testing.  Insightful at times.  Questionable at times.  Humorous at times.

On Wednesday of this week I went and met with the psychologist that the synod had selected to review my readiness to resume pastoral ministry.  It was a marathon session, lasting from 11 in the morning to nearly 4 in the afternoon.  In addition to a lot of conversation with the psychologist and another mental health professional she had present, there was the MMPI to take.  The strongest result of the MMPI was that I was an introvert.  OK, I knew that.  Roughly 2/3 of all pastors are likewise introverts.  

What was most interesting was getting the results of the Strong Interest Inventory, a test aimed at getting at your ideal vocations.  At first glance the results seemed to be what I'd anticipate.  My five top interest areas were:

1. Religion and Spirituality
2. Counseling and Helping
3. Writing and Mass Communication
4. Performing Arts
5. Mechanics and Construction

Now, my immediate reaction was that for someone with  28 years of pastoral ministry experience, who is also an accomplished musician and furniture builder, these made a lot of sense.  Yep, that's who I am.

And then came the recommendation.  

The top ten occupations suggested were:

1. Librarian
2. Rehabilitation Counselor
3. Urban and Regional Planner
4. Architect
5. Editor
6. Training and Developmental Specialist
7. Musician
8. Human Resources Manager
9. Translator
10. Arts/Entertainment Manager

Librarian?  What?  Where did that come from?  Religious leader did show up on the list but it didn't make the top ten.  Librarian?

As I shared with the psychologist, there is nothing remotely interesting to me, at all, not the slightest bit, about being a librarian, at least as I understand that vocation, and I'll admit, that my understanding of it is limited.  Some of the suggested vocations make sense, though I'd question whether they were my top interests.  An editor, for example, would make sense if it involved writing editorials.  On the other hand, as someone who struggled more with foreign language classes than any other course work, translator seems a bit of a stretch.  Were I to change vocations, I could very much see myself as a chemical dependency counselor due to my background.  And at one point in my life, I was intent on becoming a professional tuba player, so that too makes sense.  

All that said, at the age of 59, all this talk of "preferred vocations", given my interests, is a bit of a moot point.  To retrain at this point (getting a degree in the library sciences, for example .  .  . ugh, the very thought makes me cringe,) would take a significant amount of time, money, and would not likely pay off in the long run.  I really would enjoy being an architect, true.  But I'm not about to go back to college, earn that degree, and then at the age of 63 or 64 try and break into a new career.  Not likely to become the next Frank Lloyd Wright.  

We did talk a lot about ministry.  I haven't seen her final report, yet, though I did press her for an initial reaction to our conversation.  Her primary concern that she shared was that I not relocate at this time.  It is essential that I be able to continue my relationship with my health care team as I'm still quite new at this business of living with a bipolar diagnosis.  That I would agree with 100%.  

Another reaction that came about in the conversation, was in response to my sharing that my wife has been concerned that reentry into ministry might trigger a relapse of the bipolar symptoms.  "What guarantees could you offer her?"  "In life, there are no guarantees." was my response.  I think that the best that I can offer, is that I now know how to respond should symptoms of mania or depression resurface.  That is helpful, regardless of what occupation I pursue.

A final thought:  The question came up about what precautions I might take to protect the congregation I serve from becoming a 'victim' of my manic impulses, should they arise.  My response-- I'll inform them that if I put any proposal on the council's agenda that involves spending more than a million dollars, they should check with the bishop first.  

Sound advice.  

"Crazy Dave"

"Crazy Dave"

That's a moniker that one of my supervisors at work uses for me.  Another supervisor has described my personality at work at mellow, and laid back.  The "crazy Dave" name is used in jest, as many of my coworkers carry similar nicknames, depending on who your talking about.  But whenever I hear it, I laugh to myself and think, "Oh, if only he knew."

Today,  I'm up early again as my mind is thinking about the evaluation I will be having.  After work this afternoon I am  heading to Richland, WA where I will be meeting with the Synod's psychologist tomorrow for an evaluation to determine my readiness to return to pastoral ministry.  I'm uncharacteristically at peace with this whole process.  I don't  perceive a problem.  But I do find certain things interesting.

One of the questions on the preliminary interview form that I was asked to fill out was about pornography.  "How often do you visit porn sites on the web?  Daily?  Occasionally?  Not at all?"  OK, so lets just say to begin with that viewing porn sites is generally "frowned upon in this establishment" that is our home.  Not only that, without having to rely on personal experience of porn sites, over my years in the ministry I have dealt with the harmful effects of porn in my parishioner's lives.  "Women like to be taken by force" is an actual statement made to a woman in my congregation by her spouse.  That man did not learn that from women, I can assure you, but from porn sites, no doubt.

As I've thought about that question though, I'm reminded of something I was told back in seminary days, during Clinical Pastoral Education, that psychological tests often have questions that are designed to measure, not any particular response, but the basic honesty with which the test is being answered.  "If you could get away with it, would you keep money that was not yours?" was one such question.  The assumption is that if we are being totally honest, all of us would do that given the opportunity, and the purpose of the question is to see if we're being honest enough to admit that.  I'm suspicious that the question about porn may be a similar "truth barometer".  

(For the record, as an adolescent victim of an abusive relationship with a band director, I was exposed to an unhealthy dose of pornography.  For example, he took me to "Clockwork Orange" while I was in junior high.  I found out then that the eroticism of porn is always mixed with its repulsiveness.)

I'm also going to be taking the MMPI.  Is that the one that asks repeatedly about whether or not you look at your stools after going to the bathroom?  I took one test years ago that did.  Repeatedly.  I thought that whoever wrote this test sure has a fascination with people's potty habits. 

All that aside, as I anticipate going through yet another evaluation I find myself confronted with the question of presentation.  When I was being evaluated for disability, those conducting the interviews were primarily interested in any sign of health that would enable them to deny my disability.  When being screened for fitness to return to work, there would be a natural tendency to focus on any evidence that would call into question whether I am ready.  And so there is this question of presentation, specifically, do you try to present yourself in a positive or negative light, depending on the nature of the evaluation.  When I was being evaluated for qualifying for disability benefits it is natural to focus on those things that prohibit one from functioning in a healthy manner.   As I'm being evaluated now for fitness to reenter the ministry, it is natural to try and present myself in a positive light, minimizing any difficulties.

Somewhere in the middle, lies the truth.  (Isn't that an interesting phrase?  "Lies the truth.")  There is part of me that longs for a comprehensive neutral evaluation.  Not skewed for any particular outcome, but which genuinely deals with the full spectrum of how I'm doing, without prejudice.

I think that if we can get to that, the conclusion would be something like this.  Through extensive use of medication and therapy, he's made significant progress in stabilizing his mood swings and is generally in a healthy place, though there will always be the risk that his moods could destabilize again due to certain triggers.  Continued monitoring and managing through medication and therapy will alleviate much of that risk, though not all.

Well, we'll see.

Torn between two lovers. . .

I'm happy to report that my insomnia has greatly improved now that I have gone back on Rozerem.  I actually slept all the way through the night on one occasion last week.  Thankfully, my wife heard my phone buzzing as I forgot and left it on vibrate.  That is only the second time in the last year that I have slept until the alarm rang.  I used to be able to sleep well into the morning.  Waking was hard, as was going to sleep.  But once asleep, I could remain asleep for 8 to 10 hours.  Today, I count it as a great accomplishment to sleep till the alarm rings at 3:45 am.  That's sleeping in.

This morning I awoke at 1:15 or so.  I laid back down for an hour.  But then, back up.

Part of the struggle is that I've grown to love the night.  I love the silent solitude.  The time to meditate.  To reflect.  To write.

And yet, when I sleep through the night, I'm much more productive during the day.  It feels good.  

The ongoing struggle with sleep is a reminder to me that, though I generally feel much better than I have in the past, there is still that ever present issue of my mental illness.  Manic times come and go.  As does the depression.  But the sleep disorder has been a constant.  

"May cause drowsiness. . ."  Four of my primary medications carry this warning.  When my physicians look at the list of drugs that I am on, their reaction tends to be that anyone of them should be sufficient to knock me out.  It would a normal person.  For example, Rozerem is a melatonin based medication, but, according to my doctor, 12,000 times more potent than the melatonin you can buy as a sleep aid.  And it helps.  But that is on top of three additional medications, some of which are themselves prescribed as sleep aids.  My brain seems to be like the Everready bunny - it just keeps on going. . .

Would that I could consistently sleep through the night.  And yet there would be a loss if I did.  That's my time.  Its when I think, and write.  A sermon that might take a good portion of the day to write, flows freely and quickly in the night.  

But I realize that there is something else going on.  Its a matter of identity.  This time has started to shape my identity.  As desperately as I want to sleep, there is also part of me that refuses to give up this part of my life.  Its a bit of a conundrum.  

Acceptance is one of the things I am learning through all of this.  Take each day as it comes.  There is little to be gained by wishing a particular day was different than it was.  Some nights I sleep better than others.  Some nights I enjoy the solitude and time to reflect.

One of the things that comes with that acceptance, is that it is a hedge against depression.  A major part of depression comes from the desire that things be different than they are, and the disappointment that they are not.  

To accept each day as it unfolds is to receive it with gratitude.  And a grateful heart is not a depressed heart.  And so today, this night, I'll simply give thanks for this time.  Perhaps in a while I'll be able to rest some more.  Perhaps, not.  It is what it is.  And that's alright.

Tranquility

It creeps up on you.  And then one day you realize that life is well.  All is calm.

Of course, those who have been reading my blog know that it has not always been that way.

For me, one of the signs that  things are much better is that I'm not sure if I should even be writing any more, or if I do, what should I write about.  Oh, my, no crisis, no clear manifestation of this disease, nothing that I could categorize according to the six major symptoms of mania, nor am I exhibiting signs of depression.

Sleep remains a problem.  True.  But it always has been.  I met with my neurologist, the sleep specialist on Friday, and I came to a conclusion.  When I lost insurance coverage for mental illness I also lost coverage for the one medication that had showed promise of really helping my insomnia - Rozerem.  At a cost of $300 or so per month, I felt at the time that I simply couldn't afford to continue it.  Now, with the hope that our financial situation will be improving, I am more convinced that $10 a day is a small price to pay, with or without insurance, to address this one last symptom.  And to be brutally honest, sleeping through the night would substantially reduce my smoking, and the cost thereof, offsetting some of the cost of the medication.  And so I'm going to try it.

The evaluations that I'm going through relative to my health are proceeding at a snail's pace.  First, my doctors, like so many, simply didn't drop everything to submit their reports to the Synod's psychologist.  Now that they have been submitted, the Synod's psychologist is out of town for a few weeks.  That said, unlike prior evaluations, I'm surprisingly calm regarding this one.

Part of that is in the living.  The purpose of this latest evaluation is to determine if I've stabilized enough to resume pastoral ministry.  And as the evaluation is unfolding, I am already serving a congregation as a supply pastor, and anticipate that this role will become an interim pastor.  If I'm successfully engaged in pastoral ministry, then that becomes a rather significant piece of the evaluation, doesn't it?  "Can he do it?  Well, he is doing it."

And so why write a blog post?  What's to report?

It is possible, with appropriate medication and therapeutic  support, for the mentally ill to stabilize and live a normal, functional, and yes, tranquil life.

I think that needs to be said.

It needs to be said in order to provide hope for people like me, during those times when it seems like the cycling and suffering will never stop.

It needs to be said so that some of the stigma related to mental illness may be alleviated.

Meanwhile, I will lead worship and preach in a few hours.  Monday morning I will go to my job in Hayden.  I will come home after the 10 hour shift, tired, but not depressed.  I will take a quick nap.  Have dinner.  Relax,  And go to bed.  Then do it all over again.

In the midst of all this, there are those opportunities to enjoy our grandchild, (and children).

All very normal things.

Rather good for a change.

"Pastor Dave"

Its not my first rodeo, but perhaps one of my most significant.

In a few hours I will greet the congregation at Peace Lutheran in Otis Orchards and begin a relationship that could last a few weeks, months, perhaps even longer.

And I will have the privilege of introducing myself once again as "Pastor Dave".

To a certain extent, leading worship again will be like riding a bicycle.  No matter how much time has past, the mechanics of it all will be second nature, and I will feel at home,  once again.  

But this matter of "Pastor Dave".  During the last few years I have had to make some adjustments.  I have been somewhat uncomfortable being referred to as pastor in the congregation  we've been attending in Newport.  I  may still be on the clergy roster, but I was not called to be their pastor.  I've served as treasurer and signed my name to reports as simply "Dave Olson".  There was a concerted effort to recreate my identity apart from the office of pastor.

And yet I also have found myself clinging to that identity as well.  My email address is pastordavidolson@gmail.com.  I turned to blogging because I needed to keep writing about that which matters.  It was a pulpit that was available to me.  "Pastor Dave" lived on in the wee hours of the morning at this keyboard.

What will be different today is that when people address me as "Pastor Dave", it will carry with it the connotation once again that its not just about my personal identity, but it will speak to a relationship with a congregation.  That is significant.

All this being said, I'm a different person today, than I was on January 27th, 2013.  (My last Sunday at First Lutheran.)

Today, I think I know better the meaning of "'My grace is sufficient for you, for power is made perfect in weakness.'  So, I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may dwell in me."

There is a part of me that feels vulnerable because of all I've publicly shared about my journey with being bipolar on this site and elsewhere as well.  I find myself wondering if those from Otis Orchards have explored my Facebook page, and learned of all my struggles.  And if so, what is their judgment?  

That being said, I think it fair to say that for any congregation to fully embrace me as their pastor, they will need to know me as a person as well.  To withhold a significant part of who I am from them, is to hold them at a distance.  

But there is a witness in all of this as well.  God's grace will be sufficient.  Our own weaknesses actually serve the purpose of helping us to more fully depend, not on our own abilities, but on the power of God.  I am reminded of John the Baptist's words:  "I am not the Messiah."  Just a voice crying out in the wilderness.

And in my weakness, bearing witness to the one who has all power.

"Pastor Dave" they will call me.  

And with the words "The grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, the love of God, and the communion of the Holy Spirit be with you all" the service will begin.

"Grace to you and peace from God our Father and our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ."

And in the midst of these well worn words, I will find my voice once again, which is actually not my voice at all.  

That's my prayer, this morning.
Amen

Vision & Grandiosity

A healthy balance.  That's what we are after.  Not too high, not too low, just be content to be in the middle.  Breathe deeply.  Watch for the extremes.   Ah, life.

Sunday I will be supply preaching at a congregation and will continue with them through the month of July.  This gig could also develop into an interim ministry.  It marks the possibility of a real turning point in my life, the return to active ministry of Word and Sacrament.  It is exciting.

There remain lots of questions.  My medical team has spent considerable effort over the last three and a half years justifying my being on disability and with that giving me the opportunity to have a financial safety net and the space and time to focus on healing and health.  Portico Benefits has now repeatedly rendered their opinion that I no longer qualify for those benefits, that I'm healthy enough to return to work.  

This puts my medical team in an interesting situation.  Do they follow Portico's lead and change their position?  "Permanently disabled" was a term once used.  Its true to one extent.  Bipolar disorder is a permanent condition.  But the whole point of being under the care and treatment plan of a psychiatrist and psychologist is to stabilize that condition and get to the point where one is able to function fully.  I look at it from the standpoint of relative health.  I'm in a much better place than I was 3 years ago, even 1 year ago.  It seems to be working.

And so I'm excited about the opportunity to resume pastoral ministry in a more substantial way.

And then my mind starts racing with the visions of what that might look like.

Here's where it gets tricky.  God has given me the ability to always see potential and possibility.  I'm never content to simply maintain things the way they are.  Even prior to any significant interaction with the congregation in question, I start envisioning possibilities.  I think that can be a good thing, to a certain extent, especially if it is subject to a reality check as I get to know the congregation.  But to be excited about the future is a good thing.

The caution flag though, is to not allow my excitement to morph into grandiosity and a manic episode.  Breathe deeply.  Take medication.  Be realistic.  Take one day at a time.  Do the next right thing.  The Kingdom of God may be at hand, but don't try to single handedly bring it about.  

Preach the word.  Teach. Care for the congregation.  Lead as you are called to lead.  Follow as the time is right to follow.  Be content with what are in fact realistic expectations and small steps forward.  Not the time to envision a mega-church.  How about focusing on something like a decent web site.  

I don't know what the future holds.

What I do know is that Sunday, I will be called Pastor Dave once again.

And that feels good.

Snapshots of a moving target

Being evaluated.  This is one of the least enjoyable aspects of being bipolar.

The latest update on my disability claim is that Portico Benefits continues to maintain that I am not disabled, and nothing is preventing me from working.  That said, I'm willing to accept that judgment if in fact nothing is preventing my from working.

To that I'm going through a second round of evaluations, this by the psychologist that does assessments for the Synod's candidacy committee.  A positive outcome of this evaluation would clear me to resume ministry in at least some capacity.  My hopes are that both evaluations reach the same conclusion.  What I don't want is for Portico to say there is nothing preventing me from work, so I don't qualify for benefits, while the church says that being bipolar is a significant enough impediment to being able to perform pastoral responsibilities that they cannot recommend me for call.  

One of the things that is difficult is determining the parameters of information that is relevant to an evaluation today.  The disability people have always been very limited in what they would accept -- "How is he doing today, or for the last month?"  They do not want a history.  They are not interested in how I was six months ago.  They only want to consider current status.

While trying to qualify for disability benefits this was a challenge.  Bipolar people cycle through moods, and it might be months (even years) between the peaks and valleys.  "Today's mood" is not the whole picture.  

Now that I'm being evaluated for returning to ministry, my doctors have a similar question to answer.  Do they render an opinion based on today, or on the whole history of my involvement with them?  Today I may be able to handle ministry, even challenging ministry, just fine.  But in that cycling is part of being bipolar, there is no guarantee that I won't cycle back into either a depressed mood or a manic episode.  

My hopes are that the medications that I am on have provided sufficient stability as to minimize that risk.  But the only way to really know is to be thrown back into the thick of it, into stressful situations that are known to be triggers for me, and to see how I react.  

But even that is a little misleading because I'm a polished professional at internalizing feelings, and not letting them get to me, that is, not letting you know they are getting to me, all the while they are eating me up inside.

I want to resume ministry.  It is what I feel called to do.

The best that I can offer by way of assurance to the Church is this:

1. I will continue therapy and accept the assistance of my medical team to monitor my moods, and their help to stabilize those moods should they swing out of the normal spectrum;
2. I will remain on medication to further help stabilize the moods;
3. I will be attentive to my own 'red flags' that are indicators that I'm experiencing depression or mania and seek immediate help if I am;
4. And finally, though I hope this isn't the outcome, if I can't do it, I will graciously accept that.  

Here is where my personal faith and piety also enters in.  I honestly believe that I can serve, even with this "thorn in my flesh" because God's power is "made perfect in weakness".  To put it differently, I believe that those whom God calls to ministry, God also equips for ministry.  

That's what gives me the courage to proceed at this time.  Knowing that God's grace will be sufficient.

Do not torment me.

(I am sharing this post from my other blog because of its relevance. You can find that blog at wanderingsthroughtheword.com)

Name the names if you must, just do not torment me with but another promise of a cure if all you can offer is a diagnosis.  

The hardest thing is the recognition and acceptance of diseases, chronic in nature, and which allow only a promise that you can learn to live with them, manage them, but never cure them.

I am drawn to these texts about demonic possession in the bible in a different way since being diagnosed with a variety of mental health disorders.  I'm one who believes that in Jesus' day, such disorders were personified as 'demons'.  Our world view has changed.  We are less likely to personify such things.  Diseases not demons.  But by whatever name you call them, or how you personify them, the simple truth is this:  that they can take over our life in ways that our very identity with which we have lived is replaced by another whom we do not know.

Dysthymic disorder; major depression, unresponsive; suicidal  ideation; chemical dependency; chronic insomnia; post traumatic stress disorder; general anxiety disorder; bipolar disorder;-- and the list of names could go on: first tier, second tier, third tier, etc. .  Each one of those manifesting symptoms, such as manic episodes, defining the days of our lives and shaping our behaviors in ways that do not seem to be true to who we actually are, or at least who we thought we were.  Personal identity is the ultimate casualty of such suffering.  This is who I am.  Live with it.

And then comes the one who calls out the demons, naming them by name.  

And into the swine those demons go.  Ever wonder what a bipolar pig is like?

There is something missing in this text, implied but missing.  We know this man only as the Gerasene demoniac.  What is your name?  And the man said "Legion", for many were the demons that had possessed him.  What I wish were there is Jesus speaking the man's true name, and in doing so, calling forth his true identity.  

"David!"

And might we add to that "David, you have been sealed by the Holy Spirit and marked with the cross of Christ, forever."

Of all the things that could be said in response to mental illness, perhaps this is the most important.  The "you" is sealed by the Holy Spirit, sealed off from the threat of all those other spirits that would seize our identity.  Sealed by the Holy Spirit, marked with the cross of Christ, our identity forever rooted in him.  

Interesting that the swine rushed down the hill, plunged into the lake, and were drowned.  I never heard a baptismal sermon preached on this text.  But there it is.  And out of the water comes a man, in his right mind, or shall I say, "righteous".  

It is dangerous for one who is mentally ill to declare oneself healed.  Many a bipolar person has experience disastrous consequences because they became convinced they were healed and ceased their medication.  The truth is that some of these diseases are chronic, they will not just go away.  But, they need not define our identity or claim our souls.

I am not my disease.  That is not my name.  I don't know who "Legion" is, but it is not me.

"David, child of God, you have been sealed by the Holy Spirit and marked with the cross of Christ, forever."

That is healing enough for me.

Courage

Courage is not the lack of fear, but the ability to act in the face of it.

"Do you realize how many fighter pilots shit in their pants while in the midst of a dog fight?"  I don't know if this comment was meant to be taken figuratively, or literally, but I've remembered it.  The point was very clear, though.  Its not that  there isn't a lot to be afraid of, or that fighter pilots are so brave as to never experience fear.  The point is that they have the courage to do their job in spite of their fears.

Living with bipolar disorder means living with the fear that another depressed or manic episode is right around the corner.  Its hard not to evaluate every option that life presents from the standpoint of whether or not that choice would produce a depressed or manic episode, and what the consequences would be if I experienced an episode.  Fear.

As I've written about before, I have three major possibilities looming in the future.  First, the appeals process for my disability claim goes on at a snail's pace.  At some point, there will be a determination of whether I qualify for continued benefits, or not.  If I qualify, there would be a financial safety net in place, and a restoration of my health benefits, the most important of which would be that I'd get mental health coverage again.  The negative side to this is that winning the appeal would also be an admission of my own inabilities.  A positive judgment regarding the appeal, is a negative assessment of my health status.  Yup, still crazy.

The second major issue is that I've begun the process of seeking re-reinstatement to the roles of active ordained ministers.  Related to the first issue, I am voluntarily submitting to an independent psychological evaluation to determine if this is possible and advisable.  If the outcome of this is positive it would render the whole appeal of the denial of disability benefits moot.  If negative, it would add evidence to the appeals process.  However, the primary motivation is that I do feel called to return in some capacity to ordained ministry and a positive assessment by the Synod's psychiatrist would make that possible.

And finally, a client of mine believes that he has a realistic possibility of selling fifteen or so of my dining sets to clients in Vietnam.  That would be nearly a half million dollar commission for me, a real once in a lifetime opportunity for a woodworker.  Of course, expanding my business to accommodate such an order comes with all sorts of risks.

Fear.  Each of this possibilities brings with it plenty of fear.

I experienced the deepest depression of my life while on disability.  To a certain extent that was why I was on disability, but there is also the fact that being considered disabled, and unable to work, is a very depressing place to find one's self.  Were it to be determined that I remain disabled, will the  depression return?  I don't anticipate elation as being my response to such a determination.

Secondly, what would the impact of returning to ministry be?  My biggest fear all along has been that I would either not be able  to function because the depression returned, or that I might experience a manic episode which could result in all sorts of undesirable behaviors.  Fear.

And thirdly, a half million dollar commission sounds, well, like a golden opportunity.  Unless of course, one considers that high risk and ill advised business decisions are a major symptom of mania. Add to that the fact that it would involve some major investments in equipment, taking on some employees, and leasing shop space-- all of which could fall under the category of reckless spending sprees (another symptom of mania) and there is much to fear.

The thing I realize is that there is no risk free option.  Though I have the hope that my medications and treatment for the bipolar disorder has resulted in a significant stabilization of my moods, one can never know for sure until the "stress test" has been applied.  I won't know how I will respond to any of these possibilities until I attempt them.

A major part of my personal piety is the belief that God only provides opportunities for us that we are capable of handling.  Were I to be called back into the ordained ministry of the Church, I believe that God would give me the opportunity to succeed.  Likewise with the business opportunity.  And if I return to disabled status and have the disability benefits restored, then there is a part of me that would simply believe that this is a gift from God, a response to a very real need in my life.

But to see in each of those options the hand of God at work, and to pursue the opportunities that actually present themselves, requires courage.  The risks are real.  The fear is real.

But sometimes that is simply the way life is.

For my part, the thing I have resolved to do, more than anything else, is to consult with trusted friends and advisers.   I have promised my doctors that I will continue in  therapy so that they can help monitor my moods.

And in the end, I hope to muster up the courage to do what is right.  Surrendering to fear is not an option I would choose.

My "Burning Bush"

We have a Japanese Maple outside of our front door, right in front of where I sit on the porch.  I love that tree.  It's beautiful, well shaped, and has been thriving since we planted it.

I have often sat there on the porch, next to the tree, and thought about what God had in store for my life.  And I've often longed for a burning bush experience.  It would be easier to follow Jesus is he'd share more openly where we are going.  Sometimes I imagine that maple as my burning bush.  Its vibrant red leaves help.

This last winter I was deeply disappointed to discover that either the snow, or a moose, had caused a major split in the fork of one of the main branches.  Losing those two branches would have destroyed the shape of the tree, and eliminated about 1/3 of the foliage.  Desperate times require desperate measures.

Armed with my power screw driver, and a two and a half in screw, I decided to play the role of tree doctor.  Without the consent of my wife, who probably would not have agreed to my methods, I 'fixed' the tree.  The branches were bent up to their original position and the split was held together by the screw.  And then there was nothing to do but to sit back and wait for spring, to see what would come of my beloved tree.

The wound has apparently healed.  There were no dead branches.  The foliage is more beautiful than ever.  And perhaps, in that, my burning bush had a message for me.

Whether it is wishful thinking on my part, or the conclusion of thoughtful and thorough discernment, more and more I've come to the conviction that it is time to move forward with my life. I'm exploring the possibility of serving as a pastor again.  There are business opportunities as well that may come to fruition.  Still waiting for my "tree" to spell that out for me.  A little hint like "Pastor Dave" or "OlsonsWoodWorks" would help.  Or perhaps both.

What I am inspired by my tree to believe, is that beauty is possible even when a major injury, a wound, has occurred.  Healing happens.  It may take a well placed screw to hold everything together, but healing can and does happen.

What do I hope for?  Perhaps more than anything else, I hope to rediscover a meaning and purpose to my life.  Like the tree which remained dormant for a few months after my repairing it, I have spent time where my primary focus has been on my own healing.  Now, it is as though the buds are on the branches, and springtime is here, and the only question remaining is to what extent the healing has been completed.  Will the leaves unfold?  Or will there be entire branches that need to be cut off?

What do I hope for?  If I could chart my own course, I think it would look like this:  That I could combine my love for ministry with my passion for woodworking and do both.  Perhaps a part-time call combined with continued work in my shop.  A tent maker ministry.

That seems best to me.  But my 'burning bush' has not yet spoken to that.  What I do believe is that when the time is right, the opportunities will present themselves.  And I will sit on my front porch, in front of that burning bush, perhaps even removing my shoes, and celebrate.

Bipolar or Not, that is the question.

There are two strains of thought in the mental health profession.  As with many other conditions as well, some doctors are quick to diagnose bipolar, some are hesitant.  My psychologist is one who is hesitant to make that diagnosis.  Or to put it differently, he has to personally witness a significant manic or hypo-manic state to confirm the diagnosis.  He has no problem with the depression side of my diagnosis, as he has seen that a plenty.  One of the reasons he has not seen the manic side of my personality is that the last time I was in one, I backed away from counseling because I was doing so 'well'.  That was the time I resigned my call, established my business, cashed in a significant portion of my pensions, bought a CNC router, enlisted my son to join me in the business, and in doing so exhibited by my own count, 5 of the 7 defining symptoms of a manic phase of bipolar disorder.

Both my current, and previous psychiatrist fall into the camp of being willing to make the bipolar diagnosis more freely.  One of the signs that they use is the degree to which depression responds to anti-depressants.  Turns out that normal depressions most often respond well to anti-depressant therapy, while bipolar depressions do not.  Bipolar depression, on the other hand, responds to mood stabilizers, not anti-depressants.

The psychologist that is reviewing my case for disability falls into the camp of being very hesitant to offer the bipolar diagnosis.  That may affect the outcome of my appeal, only time will tell.

I have a backwards attitude toward the diagnosis.  Rather than confirming the diagnosis, and then prescribing treatment, we tried a different approach.  Treating the depression 'as depression' wasn't working, and so I asked my doctor if my recurring bouts with depression could actually be bipolar.  She agreed that was possible.  I was currently taking Lamictal to control the seizures I was having.  It is an anti-seizure medication that is also a mood stabilizer used to treat bipolar disorder.  What was decided was to increase the dosage to a therapeutic level for bipolar disorder and see what happened.  Turns out that was the one thing that improved my situation.  In essence, we prescribed the treatment, and then, based on its success determined that the diagnosis was correct.

In contrast to some of the opinions to the contrary, I am personally convinced of the correctness of my diagnosis.  One of my reasons for being even more convinced than any of my medical team is that I am deeply aware of my inner thought patterns.  These go way beyond what is actually manifested in specific behaviors.

So, for example, when I set out to develop Luther Park and the Beacon at Southridge, there were the actual behaviors, and also the underlying scheme and grandiose thinking that went far beyond.  I was successful in the first case, Luther Park is an 87 unit senior housing ministry that is doing fine.  I failed to pull off developing the Beacon (a 225 unit senior housing community) in part because of the economy, but also in part because it proved to be beyond the scope of what was possible.  What was lost in the process was that in my vision, these two projects were just the first two steps of a major plan that would totally transform the church, not only in this country, but also with an international impact as well.  The vision that I had was so ambitious, that I didn't share it with others.  It would be better, to reveal it one step at a time.  No one would buy in, if they saw the whole deal. . .

The bottom line is that left untreated my  mood swings are way beyond the norm, and have been getting progressively worse.  With treatment, they have  moderated and would be, by most observers, be seen as within the parameters of what is normal.

One of my great-uncle's favorite jokes was about a man who was out in his yard spreading salt on his lawn.  His neighbor sees what he is doing, and asks him why in the world he would do that as it will kill the lawn.  "To keep the elephants away."  was the response.  "There aren't any elephants here!" his neighbor replied.  And the man said simply --  "It figures."

I'm being treated with Lamictal to keep the bipolar symptoms away.  "But you don't have any symptoms of mania!"  "It figures."

A Crossroad

"What other people think about you is none of your business."

AA is full of pearls of wisdom.  This is one of them.  Except I don't always agree.  What other people think about you, about me, can have a significant impact on the direction of one's life.  Opportunities are sometimes contingent on other's opinions of one's capabilities and character.  There is no getting around that.

I'm at a crossroad in my life.  I'm faced with three choices that will determine the direction of my life.  But each of those three choices will only be an option based on the assessment of other people.  I am not in charge of my own destiny.

"Lets consider three options: First, that you win the appeal for disability benefits and qualify for continuation of coverage;  second, that its determined that you can return to pastoral ministry and have that opportunity;  and third, that this business opportunity (selling 15 dining sets to clients in Vietnam, as written about in my last blog) comes through.  Which would you choose?"  (My psychologist asked me this, yesterday.)

Its not an easy choice.  If I win the appeal for disability benefits, it will be because it is determined that I am simply not capable of continuing to do what at one point was second nature to me.  "I...just....can't.....do.......it...........anymore." are words that are hard to say.  I reflect on those days when I couldn't even find the motivation to shower, when depression would chain me to the couch, or when mania would drive me forward on numerous different schemes and plans.  My psychologist had me read the letter that documented his conversation with the doctor hired by the disability plan to evaluate my claim.  "Disheveled", really?  The overall assessment was convincing to me, and a bit depressing.  But a bit of the fighter in me came out.  "I can do anything I set me mind too, I'm in a much better place than I was, you're not giving me enough credit, I have 'no cognitive nor physical impairment'.  "I disagree." was his response, particularly with respect to how depression affects my cognitive functioning.  Ouch!

And then we talked about the business opportunity.  15 dining sets, at a price of $55,000 per set.  $825,000 gross.  But major challenges such as expanding my business to include numerous employees, getting the financial backing, figuring out how to safely ship hardwood furniture from the relatively dry inland Northwest, to the high humidity of Vietnam without the whole works self destructing because of the humidity change.  Etc., Etc,.  "I'm very concerned that accepting this job would result in a manic episode."  "Actually, I'd be more capable of pulling it off if I was in a manic state!"  Interesting conversation.

I shared with him the possibility of serving as an interim pastor in a small congregation.  He was much more comfortable with that, than my embarking on a bold new business adventure.  His biggest concern about my re-entering parish ministry has to do with potentially high stress situations.  Caring for a relatively small congregation, without the possibility of taking on challenges like building senior housing, etc., he thought was "safe", and far preferable to the risk of falling into an 'ill advised business endeavor'.  Especially if I continue in treatment and am monitored with respect to my moods.

Sometimes we control our own destiny.  Most of the time we do not.

The appeal of the disability claim will be settled by someone else.  Perhaps even the judicial system.

Whether I can move forward with the business opportunity depends on numerous decisions by other people, not the least of which are the clients, but also others like bankers, landlords, employees, . . . not to mention my wife and family.  Huge risks involved.

My bishop, an independent psychologist's evaluation, and a congregation's call.  Decisions will have to be made with respect to my returning to parish ministry, and most of them will be made by others.

And then there is the opportunity that none of these materialize.   That somewhere there is a fourth option.  Or maybe, my current status IS the fourth option.

The single greatest casualty of this disease is my own ability to discern and decide.  While I may or may not be disabled, I have certainly become more dependent on others.  Ironically, the recognition of these limitations and being willing to defer to the judgement of others may in fact be the single most significant indication that some degree of health and well being has returned.

Vietnam

I build things.  I love to get the creative juices flowing.  And when everything is said and done, I feel a great sense of satisfaction.

Last year I created this table and chairs for a client in Southern California.  I'm very proud of it, and the client was very pleased with it.  My client has many business contacts in Vietnam and recently returned from a two month visit.  He had the opportunity while there to do some sales pitches for my work.  He identified 15 potential customers who were interested in buying a dining set like this, for a cool $55,000 a set.  Run the math on that and no matter how you add it up it amounts to a whole lot of money (and work).  And there are a lot of logistics to work out.  Its not a done deal by any means.

Mania alert.  Mania alert.  Mania alert.

Actually, I would be much more capable of embracing this challenge if I was in a manic phase.  But then, there are those defined symptoms of this disease, a few of which are:

•          Tendency to show poor judgment, such as impulsively deciding to quit a job
• ·      Inflated self-esteem or grandiosity -- unrealistic beliefs in one's ability, intelligence, and powers; may be delusional
• ·      Reckless behaviors (such as lavish spending sprees, impulsive sexual indiscretions, abuse of alcohol or drugs, or ill-advised business decisions).

  So, lets see, having the bold confidence to quit my current job, greatly expand my business, and pursue this business opportunity, believing in my own abilities to carry it off, may be a good response to a golden opportunity that came knocking at the door.  Or, it may be a manifestation of a manic episode.  I only wish that such opportunities came with a set of flashing lights:  green for GO!  red for STOP!  and yellow for proceed with caution.

Add to this mix the fact that, as I've recently written, I am considering returning to parish ministry in some form or another.  

"Dear God,

If its not too much to ask, a burning bush experience would help at this point in time.

Thanks,

Dave"

Some thoughts:

1.     I have not thrown caution to the wind in this situation.  I realize that any decision relative to such a huge business endeavor must involve some very serious safeguards to be in place.

2.     Nothing ventured, nothing gained.  Whether I consider an opportunity to re-engage in parish ministry, or to pursue this business endeavor, there will by necessity be some risks involved.  And those risks would be there even if I was absolutely normal.  

3.     It is reasonable that someone with my talents should pursue those opportunities where my gifts are utilized.  To do so is not a symptom of a manic episode.

4.     The one thing that I do lack, because of this disease, is the confidence in my own judgement.  

5.     I am still seeking to resolve my disability claim.  A huge question is whether being bipolar continues to adversely impact my ability to work.  Both of these opportunities may be a baptism by fire that test that question.  

To be faced with such decisions is one of the things that is most difficult to handle because of this disease.  There is a risk of poor judgement.  "$55,000" may inflate my self-esteem and grandiosity.  And pursuing a business endeavor of this magnitude may be ill-advised.  

Of course, it may also be that all of my hard work and creativity is finally paying off, and I should simply do the logical thing and capitalize on the opportunity.

One thing I'm thankful for is that 4 years ago I would have made this decision with a Scotch double or two or three in hand.  Whatever the decision will be, at least it will be sober.