My Clematis is blooming for the first time this summer! I love the color of lavender with the purple veining, the creamy center of spiky petals, it gives me a sense of joy and a tinge of creativity. I am looking for a tool in a discarded box and I have come across a water fountain pump. I love the sound of water with its tinkling sound, it gives a sense of peace.
NICE, BUT IT CAN USE A LITTLE HELP
“Create with the heart, build with the mind” Criss Jami
The thought comes to me, I could make a fountain! I have everything I need but a pot. I am delighted with the creation I have made, but it lacks something, and off to the store I go looking for something to set if off, and I come across a couple of darling terracotta birds, this will be the perfect finishing touch!
“You can’t use up creativity. The more you use, the more you have” Maya Angelou
I found through grief and loss, it was tempting to seek refuge in my feelings and emotions, unable to move from darkness into light. I then determined to to do all I could in my power to hasten the steps of recovery, to be released from the thoughts of impending doom. I felt compelled to run from this fear, not understanding this dark night of the soul was preparing me for a second birth, bringing newness of life.
CONSIDER THE LILIES HOW THEY GROW
I began writing many years after the trauma of of a dysfunctional childhood, with all its baggage I carried through life. It was something I had to do to be released from the memories keeping me imprisoned in mind and body. And with each book I have written of my experiences, I have dedicated them to help others who have also had similar challenges in their lives.
WE MAY FEEL PRESSED BUT NOT CRUSHED
We Are Hard Pressed On Every Side, Yet Not Crushed We Are Perplexed , But Not In Despair – 2 Corinthians 5-8
One of my favorite quotes of Mark Twain – “Forgiveness is the fragrance the violet sheds on the heel that has crushed it.” I found through writing it was important to forgive, but of myself I was unable, it is a gift from God.
“What we have once enjoyed deeply we can never lose, All that we love deeply becomes a part of us” Helen Keller
This is the anniversary of the loss of my son in taking his life, and a description of the magnitude of suffering, leading to the attempt to take my life as well. But by God’s grace I was saved, only He knows the reason why. I wrote a poem on this experience called – Grief Six years less four months making seven an event happened. It was never thought to happen. One of those things that happens to someone else but never to her. A call in the night forbidding, she is shaking, for him looking. A child missing, never returning, to go or stay she is wondering, it is perplexing. Watching him grow, playing and laughing, always hoping, praying his life would be happy and lasting. Mother and son no longer bonding. He is sleeping, waiting for the resurrection. One night deciding, plight succumbing, seeming to be best, it would be loving. It is just too much, such awful thoughts resisting. Nine months carrying, body feeding him, a womb providing a room for him to grow in. This is a testing, thoughts increasing. She is trying, nothing is helping. Cannot explain the feelings, nothing is helping, hoping this is passing, there is shaming, there is blaming. Back and forth driving, twisting and turning, dogs vomiting. Not to be late she is hurrying. Careful the right road taking, road construction frustrating. Grief succumbing, mind spinning, depression visiting. Decisions baffling, she is withdrawing, obituary disturbing, words troubling, This kind of death met with frowning, eulogy confusing.
***** She is stopping, the man is helping, his kindness endearing, altars of thanksgiving. Turnings in the road directing, storms withdrawing, comfort finding, friends consoling, medications helping, sometimes lacking. Eyes slowly opening, ears hearing, tears no longer weeping. Birds singing, sun shining, flowers blooming, children sharing. Shadows lifting, she is talking, she is writing, on paper speaking, slowly resolving, process unfolding. She is hoping, to all things resigning. All things loving, doors are opening, acceptance is residing!
Only as we look back on how we have been led, will we be able to trust the future.
“You are our hiding place, You preserve us from trouble, You surround us with songs of deliverance”
It seems when bad news is received we automatically think the worst, how many words of fear and doubt, the worst scenario, bombard the mind? Just recently this happened to me. A dear niece had received the news of breast cancer, the very words dreaded. I was dumbfounded, how could this happen to my brother’s daughter? And in order to deal with the news, I began sorting through books, discarding those no longer pertaining to the path I have now been led. There were several books of journaling I had done over the years, and as I grouped them together, I opened one and there before my eyes fell an experience I had recorded, dated August 3, 2010, when Kim had become very ill, and was not expected to live. I was awakened by a sound at the window at three o’clock in the morning and knelt to pray, I called my brother and he also was awakened by a sound and knelt to pray. Kim was healed! Could this experience of opening a page directed by God, remind me of this, bringing faith, knowing God is aware of her need, leading us to trust?
“Wine is a mocker, strong drink is raging: and whoever is deceived thereby is not wise”
He was stumbling to the tune of a drunken state, staggering and swaying to the music he made. Oh the power of the bottle, hidden in secret places, as he searched and searched to alleviate his thirst.
“Alcohol is the anesthesia by which we endure the operation of life”
George Bernard Shaw
Why will some for a bottle of rye be willing to die, while some for a bottle of gin go into the gutter again, drinking themselves into oblivion? No one to help this family that was torn apart, when little children were sent away, so small, and all do to alcohol.
“It is easier to build strong children than to repair broken men”
All I know, at the end of his life, he was swaddled in diapers, groaning in pain with his liver inflamed. So many sores, not even his doctor could relieve the suffering he bore. Oh, but what a peaceful look came upon his face, when no longer tortured and his pain erased. How many follow in the footsteps of their families on earth? But God’s quiver is full of arrows to point His children in a different way, than the way they were bent, the way my father went.
“Blessed is the man whose quiver is full of ‘children’
Now I know I must put the pain and anguish aside – but by God’s grace go I.
“For by grace are you saved trough faith; and not of yourselves: it is the gift of God, not of works, lest any man should boast”
This is the father I loved and clung to, for I knew no better, all children cling to what is given to them.
Children trust no matter how they are treated
Their innocence is always trusting
I share these words for those who can relate, to know it is not too late for the Father up above, to take up the slack that our fathers lacked. So come along and join the band, share the song of the drunken man, that no one but those who have gone through this can understand!
It seemed like a long night, our car struggling up hills and mountains, we were all pressed together and pretty cross. And then we came to a town nestled in the hills, just as the sun shone its slants of early morning light.
Sifting through trees and ravines, waking creatures as they venture from their holes. Miners cross the hills as children awake, scurrying to school, mothers washing clothes, in the hot desert breeze hanging them to dry. The smell of coffee, potatoes and eggs drift through the air.
Abandoned mines and shafts lie in huge pockets of earth, among brown crusty hills. Our eyes big and wide, gaze upon this sight, the largest town in our travels.
Our ever faithful car, taking us everywhere we needed to go, finally came to its end and died. We never did strike it rich. But through these travels we found riches far better than gold. The earth crumbled beneath our feet, we felt the gusts of wind and ate the dust. It took a lot of trust to live in a land like this. Our mama loved us the best she could, everywhere she went we went too, taking us for a ride over hills, bumps and ridges, becoming bridges over time. This is where we needed to be, in spite of misery and despair. We were being prepared for the lessons of life.
The circuit of our travels is telling a story, one that unravels in time.
One that will hopefully help others in their travels as well!