Thursday, January 10, 2013

where my head is....

A cloudy morning in the mountains. A foggy spirit inside. Knowing how to part the clouds or disperse the fog is now we live daily. Prayers, scripture and faith get us through. Losing patience, temper or faith keeps you in a stormy dark place and that’s a hard way to live and it shortens life.


Go into each day with a positive outlook, seeking good, expecting answers you want to hear. You can then learn that often life is what you expect!

These three years and seven months since Dad’s stroke have taught me much about myself. I not only don’t have much patience, but I’ve got much faith to build. I’m finding it to be a great test as well. I’ afraid I have failed terribly. I must play along and try to get past this trial, the next one, and the next one after that. THERE’ ALWAYS GOING TO BE TRIALS! I like having a deadline. I like dealing with the finite. This has no end date in sight. It’s all about making it through today and what you must deal with. Take care of yourself in the meanwhile. Trust God. Allow others to help carry the load. Find hope when there doesn’t seem to be any. Know that hope is a choice. Believe in perseverance even when you think you can’t. Pray harder than you ever thought you could. Seek respite often. Whatever happens, don’t give up! Always expect better that you deserve and then be grateful when you get it.

All this is easy to put on paper but not so easy to maintain. So work at it. Start the day with the attitude of CAN. Try this every day and when you fail, start over the next day...YOU CAN IF YOU WANT TO BADLY ENOUGH. DO JUST DO IT. YES, EVEN TRY.

Questions remain….

Did she find the soap?

Did she put up the groceries in the right places?

Did she finish laundry from drying?

Did he take his pills?

Who left garlic bread on the bar?



Then today:



2 days for respite and catching up and I had to do the damn computer/errands (not all though).

It’s been

3 years

7 months

1 week

2 days

Since Dad’s stroke.

That’s when my grieving began. Most statistics would show that grieving to have begun to diminish by now. Mine continues to fluctuate from very high to very low. When a loved one is truly gone, there’s finality to it all. But when you have a loved one (or two) who can’t do as they wish any longer, well then you has a dark miry mess.

I can go and come as I please.

They cannot.

I can know/hope for better days ahead.

They cannot.

Buried under a lifetime of fear, hurt and ager, I am actually buried alive. Some see this. Others do not.

I can almost see the light beyond the darkness.

I can almost feel the hope of better days.

I can almost hear the sweet music after the dirge.

I can almost taste the sweetness after the bitter gaul.

I can almost smell the refreshment after the thirst.

A reminder lay in my path on my morning walk, a twig with three holly leaves. Now what was the meaning of that? I am never alone. God is with me. Jesus is in me. The Holy Spirit guides me.



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