14th January 2019
It is so easy to get up each morning and to let the day drag you along until in the evening you wonder where the time went and what you actually achieved. A lot of the things that children learn and that are available to people, were not available prior to the 1970’s. Consequently my life was really not a journey but just an existence and not much was planned. It was just really putting up with what came along.
It is not surprising therefore, that depression was a large part of my existence. This of course was not helped by the fact that both my parents were traumatised during the 2nd World War and lived with, what today would be called PTSD. And as migrants to Australia, it also meant that my siblings and I did not have any blood relatives that we could relate to. Phone calls, even to those who had phones, were prohibitively expensive. Letters, less personal, would take weeks to get to their destination. Life was not easy.
The crunch came when I was working and decided to go to Europe and work there. This meant meeting new people and of course, with my background, they were not always the best people to hang around with. So, when ‘everything went wrong’ according to my expectations, I could not see any other choice but to swallow the whole bottle of pills the doctor had prescribed, all in one go. Little need to describe what happened as a result of that, except to say that I landed in a psychiatric hospital in a foreign country.
When I eventually got out some other English speaking foreigners in the city, took me in as doctors insisted I not be alone.
That was the first step to meet another family who were to help me change the life that I was living. You see, there are sometimes people who know what they have is of help to others and they take the time to share it. There are times when this is not easy to receive, but it did actually break through in my life.
First I was invited to a ‘meeting’ at their place. Due to the travel distance this was difficult so I was invited to come straight from work and have dinner with them. I did. It was a strange experience. What really struck me was that these people spoke about Jesus like he was present in their home.
Now, don’t get me wrong. I was brought up going to church every Sunday, but fair go, this was a bit over done. Still they gave me a nice dinner and I was not in anyway going to criticise people who were so good to me. Therefore I just accepted that that was them and I was different.
But hold on, that was not all. When their meeting finally finished it was too late for me to catch the last train home, so I was very, very distressed, and in tears. The husband of the family heard something was wrong and came to investigate and some of the people told him about my predicament. Oh, that was no problem to him, and he announced that they would drive me home. Drive me home 20 Km when they only just met me and did not know much about me? AMAZING.