The Hypo

         


                                            A disclaimer:  This was composed throughout the Christmas Holiday season.  It does not come close to conveying  my usual jovial and positive personal demeanor.  Please relate accordingly.  The man who wrote this was troubled.


      Abraham Lincoln frequently made reference to his having the "Hypo".  He was alluding to his suffering from hypochondria.  Today we use the term to convey some delusional malady with no basis in reality.  In Lincoln's day it meant depression.  Lincoln suffered from depression most all of his life.  Not just in the period of our nations greatest trial, but even as a young courting lawyer.  He might even have been borderline manic depressive.  A life on an emotional roller coaster of tremendous highs, and incredible lows. 

     Even a cursory knowledge of the man reveals more than a smidgeon of justification for the lows.  Until the presidency he enjoyed little political success.  He lost his mother at an early age, and all records show a strained relationship with his father.  He adored his children (to the continual annoyance of his White House cabinet) and lost all but one.  He gave audience to most any practitioner, and is reported to have been as accomplished with a bawdy joke as history has proved him to be as a writer.  What agony to have suffered the loss of a child while bearing the burden of our nations highest office?  To receive and personally answer most correspondence from an endless and growing number of grieving Americans indicates an enormous sense of responsibility.  The stress and lingering hurt must have made it damned impossible to get out of bed in the morning.  However did he manage...... ?

     Why bring this up?  Well, without any similarities in situation, I think I might have visited (if even briefly) the same general territory as Mr. Lincoln.  In the light of day it is embarrassing to admit, but on a lesser scale I think the same lethargic hopelessness has visited me recently. 

     What in the name of all that is holy could I (whom God has so undeservedly blessed with treasures beyond my worth) ever have suffered so calamitous as to cause me to forgo the normal thanksgiving of my day to day existence and wonder if God calling me home might not be an act of loving kindness.  How could I ever get so "weary" as to even for a moment forget the faces of all who have found it in their hearts to love me?  What blow could be so egregious as to destroy my usual happy life?

     Nothing occurred pertaining to me, or to those I know and love intimately.  No tragedy, no loss, not even a minor hurt.   It was members of our larger family (yours and mine..... all who live on this earth are related) and their condition that drove an emotional spear into my heart. 

     There, at twilight in the winter cold was a family with a sign.  I do not know what it said, but it was obvious they were soliciting help.  This was just after Christmas (thank God, I do not think I would have been able to continue if it had been before Christmas), and there they all were, standing on the little grassy area in front of the grocery store.  I am somewhat conditioned and immune to the continual sight of young seemingly able bodied men with signs asking for work (but mostly just wanting cash).  I am not at all conditioned to seeing a Mother, Father, a couple kids frolicking around on the grass, and the big kicker, a small bundle wrapped up in the Mother's arms. 

     One whole family, standing in the gathering dark, and in the cold............. with a baby.  With Christmas lights still lit on most homes, they experienced a need great enough to take that small child out into the cold?  God, is there not a stable somewhere? 

     I did see several cars stop.  The need was not apparent to just me.  I watched them in the gathering dark.  The kids continued to roll in the grass, and find endless ways to amuse themselves and burn calories at a rate we adults can barely remember.  I watched and the injustice of my having and others wanting seemed a burden.  I have never felt more unworthy in my life....

   What did I do.  I sat in the car.  I allowed others to dictate my actions.  They seemed so assured that the family in my view were just exploiting the season, and were certainly not in any great need.  It was pointed out that they all did have on heavy winter coats, and probably had a nice car.... Oh, how I resented one that I love at that moment.  Still, when darkness had settled further, the family did run/walk across the parking lot and climb into a minivan and drive off.  Does that at all imply their need was any less???

    So, what drove me to borderline depression was the realization that there are some who do not have my blessings, and I will never be able to touch that need.  That alone would be enough to justify heartache.  But, the further realization that there are some who would use that need to misrepresent themselves (not at all saying that this family was engaged in such an activity) furthered that feeling of being "weary".  How ever can we know???  Does it even matter?  Should it even matter?  Acting on a perceived need is it's own reward.  Whatever the gift is used for, it was given with holy intentions.

    Not since 7th grade have I felt so impotent.  In 7th grade I watched others bully a young man and leave emotional scars I can not imagine.  At 57 I sat in the car and let a "loved one" bully me into not acting in response to a desire of the best part of my soul.......  I have (with great effort) given up the resentment I felt at having argued with me over sharing our largess......................  Still,  I am ashamed.