Strange, how being tired can feel an awful lot like being depressed. 

It’s kind of like when your stomach is rumbling, and you’re not sure if you’re hungry or it’s upset for some other reason. Both sensations are familiar to you, and your brain can associate the rumblings with either source — I’m hungry, so feed me; or I’m upset, so get ready. 

Being tired or depressed is the same. When you’re familiar with both sensations, both feelings, it’s easy to trick yourself. 

“I’m not depressed — I’m just tired. I’m not tired — I guess I’m depressed. Maybe I’m both. Depressed, and tired. Depressed and tired of it. Tired and depressed about it.”

Like right now. I’m tired. I know this is true because it logically fits. We had visitors of the best kind this weekend. My youngest daughter and her husband came from Louisiana to spend a couple of days with us, and (the best part) they also had our granddaughter Aurea with them. 

Aurea recently turned 2 years old, and we couldn’t be there for her “actual” party, so we had one of our own here this past Saturday morning. It was a lot of fun at the playground with friends (new to her), pizza and lots of bubbles. We had gone to the Exchange Club Fair the previous night. Though our very active toddler enjoyed several rides (the kids cars are her favorite), she seemed to get the biggest kick out of a bubble machine on the fairway. 

So it was off to Walmart that night to get her a bubble machine of her own for her party. Turns out someone else thought that would be a perfect gift for her, too, so she took one home with her to LA and the other is at our house for use when she is with us. 

After lunch Saturday, we visited family a couple of hours’ drive away, for two more birthday parties — one for my 20-year-old niece and another for my parents, now both entering their 80s. We got home late, lost an hour to Daylight Saving Time, and all of us took naps Sunday after lunch whether we had planned to, or not.

Well, not all. Aurea and her aunt stayed awake. No slowing down for the little girl!

I slept as well as usual last night, I guess, but woke up frequently. Also as usual. So I’m still tired. 

My wonderful son-in-law and my sweet baby girl took their baby girl home last evening, so I have to admit I miss them and wish they could come back already. But that’s not the way life works. Even so, I’m not depressed about it, nor sad. I’d just enjoy being able to visit with them daily. Maybe one day that will be possible.

So I’m tired. But because depression has been so familiar to me for so long, the somewhat lack of energy and extra effort it takes to focus right now could trick me into thinking I’m falling into that dark place again. I’m grateful for the right (for me) medications and for habits and “tricks” that I know help me when I’m feeling the darkness encroaching. 

But more than that, I know to keep my eyes on the only fully unchanging anchor available to me, or to anyone else. That’s the Rock that doesn’t move, doesn’t change. The Rock of Ages, the God of all creation, who has not cured my depression (though He is able to, should He choose to do so, for my good or His glory), but has consistently, dependably walked with me through it. Every time.

Aurea calls me “Oso.” It’s the Spanish word for bear. Her mom and dad dubbed me with the granddad name Papa Oso, which is appropriate and I love it. But Oso is shorter and easier to say, and because she’s not speaking in full sentences and just really getting in the habit of saying it, it comes out “Otho.” 

Several times over the past couple of days, she’s called out “Oso! Hand!” while reaching up with one of hers. I hold my hand out to her, and she grabs on, wanting me to walk with her wherever it is she’s headed. Every single time she has called out my name and requested my hand, I have reached down to her with a hand open and eager to take hers. I love it when she wants me to walk with her. 

She knows I won’t say no. She knows I’ll walk with her. She knows I’ll hold on tight, and pick her up when needed, help her walk when she’s on uncertain ground, carry her over certain spots, help her climb up or down, and hold her tight when she wants a hug. No doubt on her end or mine.

I’m so grateful God is like that. Every time I call out to Him and ask for His hand, He reaches down to me with an open and eager hand. I like to think I’m a loving and pretty awesome Papa Oso, but God is so very much better. When I’m tired, when I’m depressed, when I’m having a great day, and anything in-between, our Father is so much more the papa bear I need Him to be. 

Brett Campbell can be reached at brett.campbell@dailyleader.com.