This is a story of hope lost and found.
I had been in treatment for several months. Depression was the diagnosis; it had manifested itself as a profound and pervasive sense of hopelessness. I longed for a sense of purpose and worth, a reason to get out of bed in the morning, but I could not find one. I prayed to God every night for answers, but I could not hear His response. I wondered where He was in the midst of my pain.
I went to therapy and took medication, but I was making minimal progress. My therapist recommended I see an alternative medical practitioner, someone she knew and believed could help me. Reluctantly, I agreed to see the practitioner.
On the second visit, the practitioner asked me to participate in a guided visualization exercise. I was skeptical; it sounded “new agey,” and I did not put much stock into such practices. However, I was desperate to feel better, so I agreed to try the exercise.
As part of the visualization, she asked me to place into a bowl all of the negative beliefs I had about myself, and she instructed me to give the bowl to God. I was surprised and pleased that we were including God in this exercise because, for me, He had always been the one to which I had brought all of my pain and sorrow. I envisioned myself handing the bowl to God. Then, the practitioner said that God was giving something back to me, and she asked me what it was. In the visualization, I saw a hand holding a daisy. I was startled and disappointed. Why was I seeing a daisy? It was not one of my favorite flowers. I felt like a fool for trying the exercise, and I left the office determined not go to back.
I went home and cried for hours. I did not believe I could lose any more hope, but I had.
I went to my therapist’s office the next day. I told her the visit to the practitioner had been a waste of time and I was not returning. I also said, “I do not think I will ever get better until I believe God loves me.”
I went to the local bookstore that weekend, for books had always brought my comfort. I spent hours wandering the aisles. I found myself in the religion section towards the end of my visit. I perused the titles on the book bindings and noticed the title of one book: He Loves Me by Wayne Jacobson. I removed the book from the shelf to examine the cover and table of contents. On the cover, I saw a large picture of a daisy. I was stunned. At that moment, I understood the meaning of the daisy in my visualization. I believe God knew I would find that book; it was His way of telling me He loved me and He was closer to me throughout my illness than I could have ever imagined.
My depression did not disappear that day. It took several more months to address the issues and situations that had brought on the illness; however, I went to each therapy session with a renewed sense of hope that I would get better because I knew that God was never far away.
Holly Giardina
I had been in treatment for several months. Depression was the diagnosis; it had manifested itself as a profound and pervasive sense of hopelessness. I longed for a sense of purpose and worth, a reason to get out of bed in the morning, but I could not find one. I prayed to God every night for answers, but I could not hear His response. I wondered where He was in the midst of my pain.
I went to therapy and took medication, but I was making minimal progress. My therapist recommended I see an alternative medical practitioner, someone she knew and believed could help me. Reluctantly, I agreed to see the practitioner.
On the second visit, the practitioner asked me to participate in a guided visualization exercise. I was skeptical; it sounded “new agey,” and I did not put much stock into such practices. However, I was desperate to feel better, so I agreed to try the exercise.
As part of the visualization, she asked me to place into a bowl all of the negative beliefs I had about myself, and she instructed me to give the bowl to God. I was surprised and pleased that we were including God in this exercise because, for me, He had always been the one to which I had brought all of my pain and sorrow. I envisioned myself handing the bowl to God. Then, the practitioner said that God was giving something back to me, and she asked me what it was. In the visualization, I saw a hand holding a daisy. I was startled and disappointed. Why was I seeing a daisy? It was not one of my favorite flowers. I felt like a fool for trying the exercise, and I left the office determined not go to back.
I went home and cried for hours. I did not believe I could lose any more hope, but I had.
I went to my therapist’s office the next day. I told her the visit to the practitioner had been a waste of time and I was not returning. I also said, “I do not think I will ever get better until I believe God loves me.”
I went to the local bookstore that weekend, for books had always brought my comfort. I spent hours wandering the aisles. I found myself in the religion section towards the end of my visit. I perused the titles on the book bindings and noticed the title of one book: He Loves Me by Wayne Jacobson. I removed the book from the shelf to examine the cover and table of contents. On the cover, I saw a large picture of a daisy. I was stunned. At that moment, I understood the meaning of the daisy in my visualization. I believe God knew I would find that book; it was His way of telling me He loved me and He was closer to me throughout my illness than I could have ever imagined.
My depression did not disappear that day. It took several more months to address the issues and situations that had brought on the illness; however, I went to each therapy session with a renewed sense of hope that I would get better because I knew that God was never far away.
Holly Giardina