Friday Freelance: S.A.D.D.

"Don't despair. Only the mediocre person is always at his best."
~ W. Somerset Maugham

Friday Freelance: S.A.D.D.

It's January in Michigan. The longitude on the Eastern time zone's western edge brings dawn around 8 a.m. Latitude near the 45th parallel means absurdly few hours of meaningful daylight. Center the two between three Great Lakes, and oppressive cloud cover robs the land of sunlight. Supposedly mild temperatures hover around freezing, but they conspire with the damp and darkness to preserve the snow and S.A.D.D. (Seasonal Affective Depression Disorder).

S.A.D.D. has not dogged me since the early 90's, just after I moved to Michigan. But I'm encountering a surprising number of people with it this year, and it seems to be contagious. If I'm honest, my problem is not a lack of sunshine but of Sonshine. When I was in my groove, prayer closet time was a prominent priority, I was energized for a long day after minimal sleep, and had time to accomplish all the things God put on my heart. Low levels of sunshine were easily dismissed.

I've been operating on reserve strength while prayer closet time has been slowly shrinking, my energy has been diminishing, my sleep has been increasing. I'm left with fewer, frustrated hours to try to accomplish the same as before. Add to that January in Michigan and unprecedented personal challenges, and I've got the formula for a full blown case of S.A.D.D.

But only if I let it take hold.

A merry heart does good, like medicine,
But a broken spirit dries the bones.
~ Proverbs 17:22 (NKJV)

My typical outlook is not just "cup-half-full," but "my cup runneth over." I like long and frequent visits to the stream of Living Waters, letting it fill me and flow through me to others. I'd like to think of myself as liquid Colorado sunshine bottled up in a pint-sized vessel of Holy Spirit, spilling out all over the drab Michigan landscape.

My heart holds a yearning ache for the day I stand in full Sonshine. It is countered by the desire to arrive on that day with arms full of tribute to present before my King. I labor neither from sense of duty, nor to prove myself, nor even for promised reward. Duty pales next to love, my status is secure in the blood of Jesus Christ, and the only reward I seek is to kneel before the feet that were pierced for me and be permitted to kiss them.

I labor as a debtor to grace. Gratitude to my Lord gives me full rest but no leisure. The day will soon enough arrive when eternity stretches before me—without the opportunity I have now.

Here, now, I can do for my Lord on the earth what He will no longer need in Heaven. I can spill out love and life and Light in the dark world that will one day pass from existence.

When a tickle in my throat hints of an impending cold, I attack the germs mercilessly, because I don't have time to get sick. By the grace of God, I've not had a cold in two or three winters.

Lately, I've felt the tickle of S.A.D.D. trying to take hold. Life is too short to spend it weakened by such an affliction. I've started forfeiting some time visiting Facebook, blogs, and Twitter for prayer closet time, until those germs are put down, and I again have more hours in my day.

By the grace of God, I'll not succumb to S.A.D.D.

Contrasting points-of-view, questions and feedback are invited. Post to BuildingHisBody.com "Comments" or e-mail to BuildingHisBody@gmail.com. Copyright 2010, Anne Lang Bundy, all rights reserved.
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