A Bishop is more than a chess piece

Andrew is sleeping and the older two kids are at their "homeschool" school so I trying to get you caught up to speed.

It was a Thursday-I was feeling pretty bad. I went to a MOPS (mothers of pre-schoolers) meeting for the first time in years. I thought it would be good for me to get out and meet more moms. They usually have a brunch, a speaker and a craft-all while the kids are being babysat by other people. I was really looking forward to this. Well, the brunch was oatmeal, the speaker was a video and the craft was a St. Patricks Day pin (in Jan.). We talked at the table and the moms wanted to know about my PPD experience, having not been exposed to it before they were pretty naive. In the end I was asked not to come back unless I could find a baby sitter for my baby at home. They had too many moms already and not enough people to watch the babies. On one hand I understood the logistics of it all, but on the other hand I was floored. A new mom, recovering from post partum depression, should NEVER be turned away from MOPS-a mothers support group. I have to laugh at the irony of it though. Ok so that was my Thursday. Friday came and I was doing worse. Couldn't homeschool the kids that day-just vegged infront of the TV to get through the day. My mom called and asked me to go thrift store shopping on Saturday. I thought that would be good for me and would take my mind off of myself. Saturday came and I had sunken into my original abyss. I went through the motions of the morning as a zombie. Each store we went into, I found the nearest chair and just waited for them to be done. After two stores we headed home for lunch and I couldn't make my kids lunch. My mom did. I fed the baby as tears just fell down my face. My mom, by now, knew how to work around me and she took over. I emailed Doug (my homeopath) and told him how I was barely holding onto a shred of string. He wrote back and told me to stop taking my remedy it was time for a new one. But I wouldn't be getting it till Thursday. I had to go almost a week feeling like this???? In Christian orthodoxy the role of the Priest and Bishop are very important. The priest cares for his church and the Bishop cares for many churches and priests. Well, our Bishop was coming to visit our parish for the very first time. He was due to arrive at our little airport this very day I was drowning. It is customary to meet him at the airport with flowers and bread and salt and to sing to him. I knew I HAD to be there come hell or highwater. At noon my mom went with us and we headed to the airport. As soon as I got there people were asking me how I was and each question was met with a flood of tears. My friends understood then that I was falling again. All the kids were pressing their noses against the glass waiting for his plane to arrive. The choir was positioned as were the rest of the prisoners that came to welcome him. We were told to wait till the next day to receive a blessing from him so we wouldn't overwhelm him. His plane touched down and my heart grew anxious and excited. Here comes a very tall man with full black robe (cassock) and his flat hat and large cross hanging around his neck. His very presence brought the air of authority and respect and awe. We sang, "God grant you many years", presented his flowers and bread. The kids then ran to the luggage area watching to see which bags would be his. My mom kept telling me to go get his blessing. I hesitated not wanting to be a bother. But because I was getting sick again, and because I knew I wouldn't be getting my new remedy till later that week-I knew I had to touch and kiss his hand and receive a blessing which would be dripping with grace from God. I approached him, asked his blessing while bowing to him. I held his hand and kissed it while he made the sign of the cross over me. Instantly my depression lifted! I was riding on the wings of grace. One thing you have to understand is I wasn't kissing a mans hand, I wasn't asking the blessing of just someone dressed unusual. I was kissing the hand of Christ which was being represented by this person. I was asking God to send his grace down to me through this persons blessing. The relief I felt is indescribable. Later that night we had a 3 hour vigil-which again I received a blessing and anointing of holy oil. I went to bed feeling lifted and light. We took the kids to church the next day and stood through another 3 hour service followed by a festive luncheon in honor of the Bishop. It felt like Pasha (Easter). I knew the grace I received would have to last me till I got my new remedy. It did! I floated through the week. I had a little moment of tears on Tuesday but that was abated by talking about the weekend with the Bishop. Just speaking about him brought the grace I felt back. I asked our Priest for his prayers and immediately felt the heaviness lift again. On Thursday I received my new remedy-Mancinella (apple) this time. And I have felt wonderful since. I met with my homeopath last week and we are still addressing my core issues-anger etc. I don't know how I would have survived this year without being orthodox. I wouldn't have been able to ask the Saints in Heaven to pray for me, or I wouldn't have known to. I wouldn't have had a spiritual father (our priest) to pray over me and encourage me through the struggles. I wouldn't have had this paticular church family urging me along the path to recovery and homeopathy. I wouldn't have had a Bishop imparting the grace of God to me. It would have been all about me me me. And contrary to what my postings have portrayed-this year has been about me learning to endure the suffering, embrace the struggle and not give into despair and despondency. It hasn't been about "why me" and "why me" though at times it felt like that. There is joy in the struggle, there is laughter in the mourning, there is hope for the hopeless. There is a role and purpose for suffering in our lives-it's not to make us a "better person" like we are so often taught. It's to make us a better person for Christ-a little more worthy of Him. This struggle and suffering has been for my salvation and I'm thankful that Christ loves me sooo much that he allows me to suffer on earth instead of the alternative-suffering in Hell.