On not-so-bad days during my latest bout of depression, the thought would occur to me that perhaps God hasn't stopped loving me at all. Perhaps it's his love that sustains me through the pain and hopelessness. Finally, in the Book of Job, some words of hope: "If you will seek God and plead with the Almighty for mercy, if you are pure and upright, surely then he will rouse himself for you and restore your rightful habitation… He will yet fill your mouth with laughter and your lips with shouting." And so I can sit quietly, and listen to the silence, and look for ways in which he might be working in my life, even when I'm sometimes so sure he is no longer there. I can (most days) find the strength to do the things that absolutely must be done. I can rouse myself to care for my cats, who depend on me for everything. I can, no matter how I'm feeling, get myself to church every week, to spend time in a place where I can always feel his presence, and with people who know me and care about me. I can remind myself that I have cherished friends who love me and support me, who willingly shoulder some of my responsibilities until I am once again able to carry my share, and I can allow them to do that.
And so I struggle on, trying to trust that things will be better, that I will survive this, that I might even emerge a little stronger for the experience. And, even on days when I'm sure there's no one listening to my prayers, I pray.