| Sunny Side Up Jan. 11, 2006 �2006, Kathleen Gibson Mucking through molasses in January The biscotti recipe called for a quarter cup of molasses. Pouring it, thick and black, into the mixing bowl, I marveled that I had enough energy and motivation to make those cookies. Friend Glenda was right about the stuff, I guess. It had helped. I've been healthy and happy all my life, with no logical reason to feel depressed. But for the last year or so, like many women circling the half century mark, I've frequently puddled about in the glum. The problem is physical, but it's stepping on my emotions, and I hate it. "I feel as though I'm wading neck deep through blackstrap molasses some days," I'd complained to Glenda. The Preacher is trying, but on the worst days the poor man finds me even more trying. He gets PMS too, he tells me - Pack My Suitcases. The other night he and I watched the movie, Ice Age. I sat, tense as a bow string. When the saber-toothed tigers surrounded the wooly mammoth I covered my eyes. "What's the matter?" he asked. "It's scary." I said. He shrugged, befuddled. "But it's a kid's movie!" Last Sunday someone spoke to me kindly in church. Said I looked tired. It was not a good day to look at me kindly and say I looked tired. I burst into tears. The truth is I was tired. "Blackstrap molasses," Glenda said. "Try a tablespoonful a day. It'll build up your iron. You won't feel as tired all the time." I checked it out. She's right. Blackstrap molasses is chock full of iron. But my research also revealed this fascinating historical tidbit: In Boston, Massachusetts on January 15, 1919 a gigantic tank of molasses, full to the brim, burst open. Over two million gallons spewed out, forming a brown tidal wave thirty feet high. It swept through the streets, reaching speeds of thirty-five miles an hour. The stuff toppled bridges, tossed horses and wagons, crushed buildings and mummified schoolchildren on their way home. Twenty-one people died, and a hundred and fifty more were injured. The catastrophe became known as the Great Molasses Flood. People who suffer severe depression frequently refer to it as 'the black fog'. It rolls in like the Great Molasses Flood. Immobilizing. Paralyzing. De-motivating. Like the flood, it kills some. I lost a friend to the black fog. She couldn't find her way out. Seasons of depression affected many of the Bible 'greats'. Even David the giant killer frequently moaned in the Psalms, "What's the matter with me? Why am I so glum? (Gibson paraphrase!) Then, reminding himself of his available resources, he prescribes his own medicine: "Hope in God. He'll lift me up. He'll make me smile again." If you're in the midst of the fog or puddling about its gloomy edges, be encouraged. David knew what doctors frequently remind us. Depression is treatable. Prayer, meditation, exercise, rest, good nutrition, medication�God can use these things to bring back a smile. And a little molasses can't hurt. Respond Home |
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