The Key to My Soul

Writing is the key to my soul. When my fingers touch the keys, I find a hidden, secret part of me.  All the millions of colliding words in my head, form in proper order and march out onto the screen -one by one – like little soldiers.  I feel a rare sensation in my brain – stillness, quiet. All is in order in my world for these few rare moments. The process is like an old friend sitting up with me in the dorm room long after everyone else have turned the lights out. All the fluff is gone and life’s deep questions are being chewed on. Sometimes the words bring laughter and sometimes tears. But it the end, those moments are rare and cherished.

Advertisements

When Hope is all You Have

Darkness

Black enveloping my very existence

Hopelessness – what an ugly word

Yet in the distance I can still sense hope. I hang on to the thread, knowing I will be ok.

Lord,

I’ve told you over and over if you can bring more glory to your name with me having difficulty seeing than if I had full sight, that was ok with me.  Yet, you see my heart. You know my pain and in the moment when the reality of loss hits me and all I see is black, there, in that moment I feel your loving arms engulf me. I know you are God and all is going to be ok. Even if ok means I don’t see any better than I do at this moment again. All that I spent a decade being afraid of, is beginning to become reality.  

I feel my faith grow and I instinctively know there is good in pain. It’s one thing for me to say I’ve given something to God. It’s another thing for Him to take it – then I see what’s really in my heart. When that which I love is gone and I can still say, “Blessed be the name of the Lord” – what peace. I relish in that moment. Gone are the carefree, innocent laughs of my youth – replaced with a deep sense of calm and a feeling of maturity. 

So, God, when I tell you I release my child to you – I realize as you always have – that it is a two step process. While every fiber of my being wants to cling to him as tightly as I did when he was an infant wrapped in a swaddling blanket, deep down, I know I can’t. It would end in disaster. Everything done apart from you ends that way. Will you take him – if I give him to you? I guess that’s the point of trust. I don’t know now what the future holds. So, while my words give what was never mine to keep, my heart knows that if you do indeed take that which I love, you will meet me inside the darkest black. And in knowing that, I know, come what may, I will be ok.

But I Don’t Want to be the Grown up!

The look – you know the one – the one that cuts you, as a parent to the core. Why? This time beacuse dinner wasn’t the prefered meat of choice. Earlier today –  because I put up the window and the said teen prefered it down. Crazy thing is, I’m putting more effort into being patient and encouraging parent as ever. I don’t understand it, the simplest things seem to set him off. I never know when my happy will be crashed in upon.

I’ve also found my guard is up more in an effort protect my inner being. Words – hurtful words come flying when I least expect it. One of the toughest things is to turn the other cheek. I’ve not yet mastered laughing off the hurt, instead it still cuts to the core. Showing emotion when there are teenagers in the room is like sharks who smell blood.  Things get ugly quickly.

The crazy thing is the talent he has at convincing me black is white. If I try and explain that my feelings were hurt, we will end up in a lengthy discussion about how I’m always hurting his feelings?!

When did it become so hard? I miss the days of bath ritual at 7pm and bed at 8pm with sweet bedtime stories and “I love you” all the way around.  Now I spend the better part of the day repeating “I’m the grown up” over and over in my head in an effort to not react to the ugly being hurled at me in suspecting and unsuspecting moments.

How can the thing I love with my whole being and I’ve dedicated years of my life to care for it, give back just the opposite of what I would expect? Sometimes I just want to stomp my feet and scream, “It’s Not Fair!” But, then I hear my mom’s voice in the back on my head saying, “No one ever said life would be fair.”  Ah, yes…the memories of my childhood.  Now that I think about them, I vaguely remember stomping out of a room in utter frustration at my mom on more than one occasion.  I was just so frustrated she didn’t undersand me or she was in the way of me doing what I wanted to do or becoming who I wanted to become.

Maybe things will turn out ok after all.  And maybe I need to call my mom tonight and remind her how much I love her.

Is Peace Illusive?

As I lay down, the cares of the day seem weighter than they did moments before. How I long for calm, contented sleep. Why does it illude me? I wish I could will myself back out of bed to deal with my thoughts, but fatigue overwhelms me and my longing for this night to end differently than all those in the past is fast fading – that somehow to chaos in my head will resolve itself.

Why does what seems managable during the daylight hours become ominous monsters when the lights turn off?

Ps. 30:5 “Weeping may stay for the night, but rejoicing comes in the morning.”

What a blessing the first rays of sunlight bring – hope – new beginnings – and best of all, the mosters go to bed.

What Does Loss Feel Like?

I feel like a child of mine left home today. After twenty years of feeling a sense of responsibility for my mom, she moved to another city to live with my sister.  My emotions are running the gamete. I feel such a huge sense of loss. I want to scream to the world to stop and put things back in order.  I also feel such a sense of relief. Which is weird, because I never knew I had any sense of responsibility until it was gone.

I am hopeful this move will allow her happiness, the happiness which seems to have eluded her most of her life.  It would make me ever so happy if she were finally happy.  But, does happiness come from our circumstances? Certainly not! So, my hope dissolves to this somber reality.  I pray my brother-in-law will be able to care for her better than I could have.  What a blessing that would be.

Of this I’m certain, there is much uncertainty.  I have no clue how her life will play out. But, I can say, I’ve never been more proud of her than I am at this moment.  She has chosen the hard road. She is brave, courageous and has such a fierce love for God that she is willing to leave everything she knows to travel into the unknown.  Kind of reminds me of Abraham.  Yes, she is in a wilderness of sorts with the uncertainty of a job and a new surroundings.  God will either enable her or provide a plan we all at this point have no idea how it will play out.  Again, Abraham, in faith, went to sacrifice his son, Issac.  Will God provide a ram for her? Or does he have some other miracle planned for her? One that will, no doubt, display His glory?

I guess that’s why I’m so proud of her.  She is watching God paint the picture of her life.  She isn’t living life for herself. She’s living the plan He has for her. I’m so thankful I can trust God’s hand in this circumstance and I can’t wait to see what He does with her life.