Godspeak

When I am most quiet....body still, breathing slow....I hear that still small voice answering some of my deepest thoughts.  I hold dear those quiet explanations...my Godspeak moments. Once, when teaching Sunday school, unable to explain the Trinity (Father, Son, and Holy Spirit) His child-like answer made complete sense...Playdo is still Playdo whether in three balls or one. Realizing deep thoughts don't always require complex explanations...thankful for His sweet and simple solutions.

This week, another complex thought arose...exposed to so many different personalities at our local clothing ministry (aka the Closet) led me to wonder if God is the same past, present, and future and is housed in each person that accepts Him, why then do Christians act so vastly different? Expecting a common insight in each of us, but often falling short. I posed this question to Him one morning and the answer came so simply. He remains the same in our inner most parts...it's the container that differs. Some host Him in fragile temples, susceptible to the most sensitive of influences, others offer an impenetrable fortress, hard and treacherous to navigate. Some have temples so abused by the world that they carry pain in their eyes. Some carry God around like an expensive, trendy purse. While others hide him so deeply inside, you'd never know He was there. I suppose the trick is finding that sweet God spot in each person...that Holy common ground. What a different world it would be if we weren't afraid to share and show that God spot more often...more compassion, more joy, more of that sacred peace that surpasses all understanding.  Til then, I'll seek out quiet and wait for more Godspeak moments.

 

A Spectacular Day

When thoughts swirl, I typically sit down to write when the house is quiet and still. But everyone is home...off from Christmas break. Hubby greets me early to see how I'm doing...dry-eyed still, grateful that he remembered, too. One year ago today...1:45am...I shared unforgettable moments with my Mom as she took her final breath. One year of firsts behind us...the first Mother's Day, her first birthday, Christmas and New Years without hearing her voice. For weeks I've pondered ways to make January 2 spectacular...donations to a local charity that supports grieving children, donations to the Cancer society...both seemed so impersonal. Making her favorite meal, chicken casserole with potato chips but then I realized that was MY favorite meal she prepared on visits to Pepper Road. The releasing of memory balloons...bad for the environment. So here we are...January 2 with no stellar way to celebrate, as I hide out in the guest bedroom and begin to settle the spinning thoughts.

 

Tearfully rereading my first blog posts documenting her fade from this world....realizing words were present tense as she was still with us. Later posts refreshed memories of gently hummed hymns and soft spoken words. Other entries reflect the fierce desire to hold fast to my renewed intention of living...so afraid they would fade with the bustle of daily life and it was all for nothing...glad to realize I am still changed, still seeking a life of intention, surrounding myself with those that inspire me to be a better person and fluffing my nest with things that bring me joy. It's virtually impossible to cross paths with the phenomenal and not leave unchanged.

 

 

 

Like so often when I begin to journal, stark realization comes.  Much like when the Grinch realizes that Christmas comes without packages and

bows, the day means a little bit more all on it's own.  There's no need to fabricate activities to make January 2 spectacular...it already is. Simply remembering her, holding fast to her beliefs, her Faith, now my own Faith, will make this January 2, and every January 2 to follow, spectacular. I'll hug my children and hubby a little tighter today, giving myself the grace to shed a few tears. I'll be gentle with myself ....grateful I have a family that is gentle with me, as well. I can't imagine a better way to remember Linda Kay Elliott.  

A Different Christmas

It just doesn't feel like Christmas yet...only three days away, most of the gifts are wrapped, the tree is up, the weather is unseasonably warm. Feeling like I should be more sad, heavy with deep remembrance. But I'm not. I'm content. Feet moving forward to satisfy the checklist, taking time to breathe and savor in between. I can only imagine it's a God-Thing....loads of prayer keep me from staying in bed all day long. Keeping my eyes heavenward keeps me from crying. Writing lets the truth bubble to the surface. Not saying I haven't had my moments, but 80% of the time I'm doing just fine. Thankful for friends that check in to see if I'm still breathing, I can almost predict those that will check in on Dec 25 and Jan 2. Two of the hardest days still to come. Moving forward with curious anticipation. Boarding an airplane to spend the holidays with dear friends...finally still and deep conversations expected, a few tears may spill. But in this moment, I'm content. Feeling like she was rescued and I'm truly overjoyed that she's no longer suffering...on so many levels. She's in the safest place of all. How can I be sad? I do miss hearing her soft voice always seeing the shiny side of things. I do miss her velvety soft hands in mine. I do miss snuggling up beside her in bed, each of us silently browsing the latest Women's Day magazines. I even miss her loud snores and that strange gurgling sound her belly made when she laid on her left side.

She raised me well...the best she could with the resources available. Now I'm making my own Christmas memories...mother-child memories. Recreating that silent snuggle with Maya as we browse thru our phones...her showing me the funniest videos and playing the most elusive tunes. Cole reaches over a squeezes my hand much more now... I love his adult sized hand in mine. Oftentimes, I'll slide up and check his pulse like Mom did when I was little...just to make sure all is well.

This Christmas indeed will be very different...but today, in this moment, different is very, very good.

 

 

Be Still

Entering a season of memories...Last Thanksgiving was the beginning of the spiral towards Jan 2. Stepping into the holiday realizing I purposely keep myself in motion so I won't have to think. Hosting 17 family members all with different social comfort and anxiety levels followed by a two week host and entertain stint with the in-laws...all good memories, all good distractions. Hands and mind so flurried that I didn't realize the loss until Dad crossed the threshold without her. Like U2 without Bono, the room seemed full and empty at the same time. I keep expecting her to appear...she was so unassuming...just quietly appearing...meek yet powerful.  No words to describe her. I sidled up beside Dad to reintroduce him to the crowd as he usually bee lines to my comfy corner chair and begins his nap. This time, he participated. My hand on his shoulder, I take a good long look at him...he has aged....maybe shrunk an inch or two...then I see it. Amidst my inner flurry, my soul still for a split second...enough to see the faintest quiver of his chin. He's struggling, too. He disappears upstairs, laying for a moment in Cole's bed, regrouping but saying it's his nerves from driving. He returns later to help with a puzzle and never heads for that comfy corner chair.

 

Days later, a 90^th birthday for Tim's grandmother...25 aunts, uncles, and cousins gathered to celebrate yet

her mind so loose from Alzheimers it seemed mildly overwhelming. It was nice to take a backseat to this festivity. More for us than for her....what stories that mind could once share. Now among faces she no longer recognizes, she appeases us thru dinner, opening of presents, and a few snapshots but is adamant about being ready to leave. Father-in-law leads his exhausted mother to the car as we offer our goodbyes. While others hug and offer final chats, I'm feeling led to follow Wayne as he places his mother onto the seat. She's cumbersome, sliding too far on the seat for the seatbelt to reach, he envelopes her to reach the belt, but her head nestles gently onto his shoulder. And then it happens... I am blessed with the most touching moment...he stops and lets her rest on him, cooing gentle words in her ear. The two of them are motionless for what seems a sweet eternity. Feeling like the luckiest girl in the lot, my eyes swelling with tears, the seatbelt snaps and the moment ends.

Realizing that I'm keeping myself busier than required to avoid deep thoughts...However, when I'm most still, I'm able to witness magical moments. Taking this first year of memories day by precious day...not wishing it away, being intentional with my time, my words, my memories. Having to constantly remind myself that when the flurry rises, I will be still.

A-ha Moments

My last post, since deleted, stirred family feathers, so I sat remorseful, tail between my legs, feeling censored. But words weigh heavy, desperately wanting to be released. Thoughts churning unsettled until they're on paper. 

 

For now, I'll stick with benign topics...some A-ha moments from these past few weeks.

A-ha #1:  When tired, rushed, not grounded in prayer, my words often skim surfaces,  at times unintentionally wounding. Working on becoming and remaining intentional with my words. Three occasions this week presented awareness that small deposits have uplifted, enlightened. What kind of an effect could be made if I truly turned on the jets? Depositing words that are based on good listening and soul based inquiries? How humbling that I could make an impact on another life.  Aiming to use my powers for good...

A-ha #2:  Some people come into your life for a season....lessons received or given, then unexpectedly, while making yourself a cup of tea one morning you realize you haven't talked in months. That awkward silence with far too many life gaps to fill. Then you wonder if the lesson is complete or was the lesson unable to be taught?

A-ha #3:  Some that have nearly nothing will gladly give everything they have to help others. An entire post on that topic is brewing....things I've noticed during volunteer time at the Community Closet. Desperate hearts, willing volunteers, grateful souls. Life changing stuff.

A-ha #4:  Feeling like a storm is coming...not ready for it to be one full year. I'd prefer to stay closest to the last moments I had with her.  Not wanting it to fade. Perhaps that's why I still write. Unable to attend her hometown event, Apple Scrapple fest in Bridgeville, De because that's when the decline began. Then Thanksgiving, then Christmas, and finally New Years. Holidays that carry major weight for me now. Staying busy to create fresh memories but still not ready to forget.

 

 

Mentally and physically scattered, but growing, changing in every moment.  Becoming a better version of myself...one that represents a good human to my children, that speaks loving words to my husband, and carries a full cup to more effectively help others.  Definitely a work and delicate balance in progress. 

Forgiveness - Part Deux

Writing about Forgiveness and actually doing are two different beasts. Seems I've been quite content to let bitterness consume me from within. Surrounded by suggestion... a sermon about offering forgiveness before too late. Then, darling husband asks almost daily if I've called my Dad. I read a fabulous book on what it's like to live in another person's shoes which makes me consider how little I know about his life, his fears. Then, this morning's devotional reads 'instead, you ought to forgive and comfort him, so that he will not be overwhelmed by excessive sorrow' (2 Corinthians 2: 7). Oftentimes slow on the uptake, but lately it's felt like a battering ram!

Couldn't I just write a letter? Written words flow more smoothly. Can't it wait til a personal visit? No, Lisa...call today. Call right now. That heavy soul-knocking urge to call weakens my resolve and I reach for the phone. Not in my favorites list, I have to search for his name. What will I say? I know I can't get thru much without breaking down. Ring Ring...maybe he's still asleep...he's known to sleep til noon. Instead, I get a sleepy hello. Uggg. Ok, I'm being obedient...Good morning.

Those first awkward steps of conversation aren't pretty....clumsily trudging thru...I know the meaty parts are coming... bursting to spill. That deafening silence and then I hear myself say the words I've withheld for years.

Can you forgive me?  I've been angry at you for how things went down with Mom.

Can you forgive me?  I was angry because I would have done things so differently. I was completely unaware of your perspective....what it was like living in your shoes.

I don't know how he'll process my call...choppy with tears and gulps for air. Not sure if he feels confusion or clarity. Feeling the same way, myself. There's so much more to purge. Baby steps.

 

 

Clumsy Words

These weeks have been a blur...busy mind and body...delivering meals to sick and traveling friends, celebrating a dear friend's book release, a monumental concert for daughter and an indulgent evening with a friend, meetings, volunteer hours, chauffeuring, cooking, cleaning. Nothing more or less ordinary than any other Mom. But this week, feeling that guilty sadness that summer is winding down, and many of my lofty summer plans did not materialize. Looking for precious windows of time in these final 8 days to squeeze in memories.

Slowing the mind as I set the list aside and listened to daughter's fears and dreams for her upcoming

school year. Enjoying a marathon of Harry Potter with her before she's off and running again. Helping me understand the importance of horcrux items and Patronus symbols. Deep and heady thoughts from a Dumbledore quote, “Words are, in my not-so-humble opinion, our most inexhaustible source of magic. Capable of both inflicting injury and remedying it.” Words I strive to represent...intentionally placed words of concern, praise, correction. Often, I miss the mark. Children, husband, perhaps friends, disappointed and confused. Seems to be an ever present exercise as I savored a far-away friend this weekend as she voiced her excitement over a new move and the heart saddness over the sudden loss of a dear pet. Learning to listen and not stumble over clumsy words and canned thoughts. Home again, somehow forgetting the lesson and fruitless words tumble out. Saying one thing, but another meaning heard. Are surrounding ears that fragile or are my words that graceless? Written, they come silky...but something between the brain, ears, and tongue tangles intention.

Since not speaking is an ineffective answer, my only answer is prayer. Praying to soften my words, letting them lay softly on loved one's ears. Praying to cushion my own ears to hear love always. Praying my words have that power to remedy and not inflict injury.