Out of the Depths

“Out of the depths, I cry to you, O Lord.”

I feel…I find myself in this deep, dark, seemingly hopeless emotional and mental hole, unable to climb out.

Each attempt I make, I fall flat to the ground.

I feel alone and lonely in this dark space, with face down, rooted in the ground.

Intermittently, a hug, a conversation, a message, or someone’s thought re-energizes.

Imprisoned on the rugged, rough ground, my back is ladened with shovels of dirt reluctantly received from life’s uncontrollable circumstances. Dirt of responsibilities and commitments – a talk, a homily, a class to prepare; deadlines to meet; webinars to attend; e-mails to be answered; COVID fears and concerns; problems to solve; calls to return; reaching out to persons who need a helping hand; facing piles of paper littered on my desk; planning and arranging business, and of course, today’s hyper-connectivity swirling me around and around and around.

It’s overwhelming. The dirt keeps coming each time I shake it off my back. I wake up this morning worried about a friend, no response to my call from the previous day. Is he safe? Is he OK? The temperature of my worrying is high.

Then I remember the story of a donkey whose owner, a farmer, discarded him into a deep dry well. Its time of usefulness was over. The farmer invited neighbours to assist him to  shovel dirt into the hole to bury alive the donkey. They shoveled and shoveled ceaselessly. The clever donkey shook every shovel of dirt off its back. Each mound of dirt that fell to the ground the donkey stepped on it, until… Voila! The dirt piled sufficiently high until it reached the top of the well, and the donkey then escaped gleefully.

Well… I am not at that point yet. I am in the depth of the hole with dirt continuously being thrown on my back.

When will it end?