Before I share my story, I know it is important to recognize that there are varying opinions about taking medication to relieve anxiety and depression. I encourage you to talk to a physician, psychiatrist, or counselor to figure out what is best for you. I am sharing my story because I want you to know that sometimes God’s provision can come in a pill, and that’s okay.
Crack. The shell taps the side of the pan, the insides of the egg spilling over the edge onto the black cast iron skillet. Click. I turn the stovetop knob and a flame erupts into existence as a faint smell of gas enters my nose. The egg changes from a clear film to a solid white skirt around the sunshine yellow yolk, resembling a daisy in the base of the black pan. The spatula slides beneath the egg, carefully flipping it, trying to keep the yolky center from breaking. Crackle. Pop. The sounds of the sizzling egg make my mouth water.
It wasn’t always like this. For many days, about a year ago, I didn’t have an appetite. I could barely eat; coffee, if that, was all that crossed my lips.
I write to you from the other side. The side where food does sound good and I even have enough brainpower to plan meals. And often this is because of the tiny light-pink colored tablet, placed carefully beside my breakfast, hoping not to be forgotten.
In this season, God provides through this little pill. Is each day magically better? No. Are there still hard days? Yes. But God’s provision of this small rounded square gives me space to breathe again. Taking medicine daily allows me to laugh with my kids, relax with my husband, and enter into community.
And so, I pick up the tiny tablet, place it on my tongue, and swallow it with a glass of water. Sometimes, God’s provision comes in a pill, and that’s okay.
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