The Guest House

Last week I had an unexpected visitor. He came without calling and overstayed his welcome. He was quietly destructive; didn’t make a sound but robbed me of all my valuables.

 

First He turned my lights off, leaving me covered in darkness.

Then He siphoned my energy- abandoned and defenseless, paralyzed on the floor.

 

Like a thief in the night, He made out of here with my most prized possessions

my hope

my strength

my vision

my humor

and my smile.

 

Depression is a thief. It is the darkest night in the middle of a storm. It’s the last flickering streetlight slowly buzzing to a fade.

 

A week’s passed and I’m laying in bed mesmerized by this quote from Rumi,

 

This being human is a guest house.

Every morning a new arrival.

A joy, a depression, a meanness,

some momentary awareness comes

as an unexpected visitor.

Welcome and entertain them all!

Even if they are a crowd of sorrows,

who violently sweep your house

empty of its furniture,

still, treat each guest honorably.

He may be clearing you out

for some new delight.

The dark thought, the shame, the malice.

meet them at the door laughing and invite them in.

Be grateful for whatever comes.

because each has been sent

as a guide from beyond.

 

As I sit with the Lord and thank Him for this visitor, I can’t stop the tears from slowly trickling down my cheek, remembering Depression’s sting. Then I reread that last line,

Sent as a guide from beyond

and I’m laughing.

Crying and laughing with the Universe. Seeing myself as It does. In this play called Life. Grateful for the fullness, the depth of my character. So many parts I get to play.
Smiling, I wish my visitor well.

Until we meet again.

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