Maybe because it’s so complicated, I thought, looking at the pine cone.

I sometimes worry that my ability to see myself in so many objects comes from some strain of narcissism inside me. Self analysis aside, I saw in all those wings branching out from the center axis of the pine cone the makeup of a person. Someone who is strong, yet delicate, comprised of many parts that form a definite design. The lower part of the pine cone is wider than the top and is anchored to a twig. That makes me wonder: Where am I most stable? What am I anchored to? These questions are especially important now, when I feel mentally and emotionally drained and challenged.

Nothing catastrophic has happened, it’s just the toll that life takes on me as I try to raise my 13-year-old autistic son and cope with long-term depression that expresses itself intermittently, like an unwelcome family member popping in for a visit.

I found the pine cone while on a nature walk with my husband and son. Having been raised in the Caribbean, the humble pine cone appeared exotic with its symmetry and attachment to its twig. I didn’t know how long it would stay intact, but I appreciated it while I could. In the same way, I am trying to find moments of light in my daily life which I can use as a ward against the darkness. With depression, you just cannot give in, especially if you have people in your life who count on you, as my son and husband count on me.

And so, I seek out wise counsel, consult with health professionals, lean on close friends, and try to make sure I am get sufficient sleep and exercise. I guess these habits form the stable base of the part of me who knows how to practice self care even when I don’t want to.

As for my grounding, I try to stay anchored in God by reading the Bible, praying, and seeking prayer from and fellowship with others. I try to stay in conversation with Him throughout the day, as if I were speaking to a constant friend with the power to do something about my troubles.

I wonder about Jesus, if He felt drained by the shape of His life—all that pouring out of Himself in healing and teaching others, whether it was large crowds or his inner circle of disciples. Someone always wanted a piece of Him, just like the to-do list of my life always wants a piece of me. Yet I know that one day I will look back on that list and realize that having mundane, good things to do was a great blessing. I don’t want to withdraw completely from these little chores, even as I take a step back and shave them down to what is truly necessary.

Can one find beauty in the struggle? Even as I feel depression sink its teeth into my soul, do I not also sense something larger, kinder holding me up? And would I sense this Other attending to me if I were not so desperately looking for Him? Would the childlike parts of me surface as they do now, when I stand naked and afraid in the face of my own feelings? I don’t know if I can contain them, or if they will end up taking over me. Too often, probably, I shut them down instead of feeling my feelings as a precaution against just that—being overwhelmed. But as I once heard a preacher say, “You don’t bury your feelings dead: you bury them alive, and they will escape that grave to attack you.” Better to deal with them on safer terms, realizing that surrendering to the truth of your experience can be an empowering exercise if you invite God into it. “Jesus goes wherever He is invited,” I have heard someone else say. There are several places I know I want Him to enter, even at the cost of losing control over that which I cannot control anyway.

This time around, I find that I am profoundly aware of being alive as I fight my old enemy. Not that I welcome the darkness in any way, but the pain it brings makes me realize I have so much in my life to fight for, me included. When else do you get to assess your own value as a human being, someone worthy of a champion who fights for them tooth and nail? While I would say that I do not always provide the best example of self love, I watch myself self-advocating and realize that is what one does—tirelessly—for someone one loves.

In essence, I am teaching myself what self-love looks like, and I believe this pleases God. After all, the Bible says to “love thy neighbor as thyself,” not instead of thyself (see Leviticus 19:18, cited by Jesus in Matthew 22:39).

As I have walked through this bout of depression and (and observed myself doing so), I have perceived something important. It has not been any one thing in life that has pulled me down, but rather a whole campaign of discouragement. Dark voices in my head telling me that I am not trying hard enough, that I have somehow brought this suffering upon myself. But I don’t believe that anymore. I believe that spiritual forces are at work in the world who are opposed to the will of God and go after His people to take them down. A war of attrition is a favorite tactic—death by a thousand cuts.

It’s a particularly successful maneuver, because sometimes the attacks are so subtle one doesn’t see them until a weight like an anvil is crushing one into the ground. Another effective aspect to this campaign—it’s hard to fight back when one is exhausted and dispirited. That’s when it becomes so vital to invite others into the fray, so that they may lend their strength to your battle as you try to regain your footing.

Hope. In Biblical Hebrew it is the same word as “wait.” All the psalms telling their audience to wait upon the Lord, are exhorting them to hope in Him too. To wait with the expectation that He is going to answer your petition. Sometimes it is hard to sense His presence amid the storm. You need others who are standing on dry land and who can see things clearly to reassure you of His nearness. In essence, a campaign of discouragement and darkness requires an answering army of people who love you and are committed to help you if you ask.

But you have to ask.

It’s a humbling thing, to admit that you need help and cannot do it alone. But it is also a rewarding endeavor if James 4:10 holds true: “Humble thyself in the sight of the Lord, and He will lift you up.”

As I look at the pine cone once again, I see that each wing is curved upward, like an open palm. And I wonder if an essential part of who I am derives from my cries for help. Is that so farfetched? After all, when I think of David in the Bible, I think of him as a poet and not just a king, a needy individual who poured out his heart to God when he was desperate and in trouble. He, too, had to ask for help in order to not just survive but come closer to becoming the man after God’s own heart.

So I’ll start. Friends, if you are reading this blog post and are so inclined, please say a prayer for me that I will be restored from this battle with depression. I need all the help I can get, for I don’t see a path forward even though I know one exists by way of the mighty hand of God who created me, fragile and complicated as I am. I believe every prayer matters, because every prayer is heard. And when God hears someone He loves, He is always inclined to respond on their behalf, whether they are praying for themselves or another.

Free feel to email me a prayer request of your own. I will bring it to the Father. And together we will wait—and hope—that an answer is coming, one that will redeem us out of all our struggles.

Thank you for spending this time with me. It is more precious than you know.

Hear our prayers, O Lord. Amen.