Darwinism and Depression

It is no secret that I believe in Intelligent Design. Nor that I refer to the Designer as God. So in essence, yes, I am a creationist. There are numberless aspects of these definitions that I could debate and talk about to possibly no end. Those conversations are for another day.

Having been recently reminded of the political implications of Darwinism VS. Intelligent Design, my mind was prevailed upon by a new understanding that in fact, I have bought into some of the more sinister ideals of Darwinism.

If you know me, you know my body has rebelled against it's age and decided it prefers the health equivalent of an 82 year old. I am the epitome of false advertising from the outside looking in.

Recently a change in medications has allowed me more of a middle-aged vigor and I have enjoyed being surgically removed from my bed. It's a wonder that anyone would miss doing dishes and laundry and making dinner. But oh the joy, when I was once again able to function.

It felt good to contribute, to not be a drain or burden on my husband whom for so long has had to do everything. The kids have stopped talking about how they miss the mom I used to be. And exercise is a dream come true.

This last weekend I had a scare that made it seem like these two months of strength were all but over.

How difficult.
How hard.
How depressing.

Depressing, yes.
Depression.
My definition of depression,

"Are you going to come to my field trip or are you going to be sick that day?" Questions from my kids, wanting me to do things, be with them, play with them and barely having the strength to breathe.
Mom has a headache, mom doesn't feel well, mom's staying home this time. . . mom's always sick.
Dirty laundry guilt, dirty bathrooms guilt, no dinner guilt, not waking up to help kids guilt, not being a supportive wife guilt, being a nothing guilt.

A zombie, a vegetable, a problem.

Because here's why.
If I can't contribute, I have no value. If I can't contribute, other's have to pick up my slack. I am a burden. And under Darwin's law of evolution and natural selection, I deserve to die. The weak and the feeble fall behind the herd and are devoured. For a reason, for the betterment of the community.

I bought into this. The same mentality that brought about the holocaust. It still sweeps countries today with genocide. If you are deemed inferior, you are expendable at best. This Darwin Theory is a handy tool for dictators.

If Darwin is right and I'm just another form of sludge, then I should die. Let the other sludgies be happy and be less burdened. Not like I'll regret being dead because that's all she wrote. One less sludgie in the world.

But if I am a daughter of God, if I have a divine purpose, if all that I know and believe in my faith is true, then I am not what my body can and can't do. If I am to become, as He has asked, like my Savior, then there is something to learn from the crappiest of situations. Things like service and compassion and love.

My challenged situation wasn't all depression, in truth I have a husband who reminded me all the time that I am not my body. And the kids did help a lot. I did feel hope and love and many many times joy.

Yet there were those times that I would succumb to the dark fruits of Godlessness. Not on purpose and obviously not realizing what it meant when I did.

There is a depression I felt that I can directly correlate to the pervasiveness of darwinistic thought.

Hopefully the clarity I have now will not soon dissipate when things get hard again.