Prepping Bible verses, listening to my husband’s hearts share as we lay his mom to rest tomorrow.
We know her final resting place is in the arms of Jesus. She was a believer, and that brings us so much peace. My husband is at the age where many of his friends are losing their parents. This loss brings him to the loss of both his dad, and mom. It really makes you think, and ponder the years of your life.
The City of Spokane Police Chaplain happens to be a dear friend of mine. He is doing her service. He just texted asking if I was ready with my Bible verses. I am (tearfully) I am.
Say it isn’t so, old man winter is rearing its ugly head abruptly this year. I can’t remember a winter it snowed before Halloween, let alone this early since I was a kid
The city is bustling to tire shops. They will be booked out for days in service of the great swap. From regular tires, to studs. What a dud this put on all of our moods. It is just way too soon
Say it isn’t so, SNOW. A winter storm warning has been put in effect. So as well we are praying about the safety of our move. Up on the 3rd floor of very steep stairs, the slightest wet. You bet someone is bound to fall. We may be at a stall until the following weekend
Hustling in trade of autumn clothing, getting out my winter thermals. As well my beanies, boots, and gloves. It just managed to sneak up on us. So yeah we are in a fuss
Say it is isn’t so, SNOW. 26 degrees oh please allow all power to stay in tact, and the trees to still stand. They scare in read of treacherous driving conditions. Stay off the road they plead. Flu season will be rampant with the temperature dropping so drastically. Is old man winter laughing sarcastically? We are all in a state of panic, out getting all we need
Guzzling down the warmth of my coffee, getting my body ramped up to go out to get our necessities. I am no fool to winters plea. I have vivid memories of winter storm warnings. Reminded how it sweeps in with a vengeance. Mornings with an Alaskan cold front too cold or dangerous to go out, waking to the power being out. It is freaking cold, chilled to the bone. Too old to be excited with a childlike thrill. I know the drill
Say it isn’t so, SNOW. Maybe some excitement for the little kids. They love the first snowfall, the flakes all different shapes and sizes. Puffy kids bumbled in snowsuits in their front yards in build of a snowman. I guess I am too old, too cold, and honestly a little shocked
Lord God, is there any way to make this stop? I am snuggled up in my blanket. Just can’t shake this, and I believe from the news I see we were all totally caught off guard. Oh Lord this is all in your hands. For you are the creator of all the seasons, and you decided to make our winter appear. Help us ready, and trust. Help us be prepared, allow for everyone to get a slot in snow tires long appointment books. For this is really off the hook
Say it isn’t, Snow! Not yet!
“While the earth remains, seedtime and harvest, cold and heat, summer and winter, day and night, shall not cease.” Genesis 8:22
of, relating to, or characterized by empathy, the psychological identification with the feelings, thoughts, or attitudes of others:
Wound as tight as a clock can’t get my brain to shut up, or stop
Wearing a multitude of hearts on my sleeve no reprieve for I share their tear stained pillows. I cry myself to sleep in the billows of their pain. I feel all of you.
I feel you, and you, and you. You are rot with anxiety, I feel you. You have no beat in your heart, I feel you. You can’t look at your own reflection in the mirror, in want to not vomit at your image. I feel you.
You were abaonded by all whom you thought loved you. I feel you. You gave into your self inflicted pain. I feel you.
You are grief stricken, and heart sick. I feel you, you lost yourself in this life (your wife). I feel you. You are living out of your car with 2 kids, and a dog eating maybe once a day clothes wreak of body odor and mildew. Your kids look at you with disgust, you are a drunk. I feel you.
Your son who has struggled with a heroin addiction since 8th grade, filled that needle one last time found a vein for his sweet realease. He overdosed for the third time, this time his heart could not fight he was pronounced dead upon a cold sterile table while you were away on vacation. The call you received left you breathless. A piano prodigy gone with the prick of a poisoned needle. His bipolar mental state too much for him to endure. So his addiction was his pleasure. The amount of heroin found in him to high for measure. A beautiful man too. I feel you.
Your parents never gave you the time of day, they made you feel small. They never gave you affirmation or love. They had the nerve to call their own child mentally ill. They belittled you until their last breath. They never made effort for amends. They left the world leaving with no mention of you. You long to be adored, to what was always on their own accord. I feel you.
You went to shave your husband in his vegetative state, hoping his eyes just might open. It had been a year since the tragic accident. You had a hard decision to pull the plug. His body gaunt, and not a hint of life. One of the neatest men this life has met. You his wife would go home alone, married to just a silhouette. The time had come to kiss him goodbye. Your body bled you of the tears you cried. I feel you.
You got fired from your job today, and your wife can’t work. Your rent is due tomorrow, and you have no means to pay it. The government assists you, but you still can’t keep afloat. You are running out of life boats. I feel you.
Your dad and mom are alcoholics, and you were lost in translation. You never finshed school, and don’t even know how to drive. Your dad and mom divorced, which for you cried and cried. You don’t know what it means to be man. Your life has not set forth a plan. You were never taught a work ethic. You were forced to grow up much before your time. You don’t want to get too close to anyone at the fear of loss. You show few your pain as you see no purpose. Suck it up, and push through you were always told. No hand to hold. I feel you.
You were asked to drink of a bitter cup, and nailed to a cross. A crown of thornes embedded in your head. People mocked your words, and spat on you. You had nail pierced hands, and feet. No food or drink, lashings until you were beat and your dripped blood slowly stained your body. You bore the sins of world, and died so that those who believe could have life. You hung until your last words “it is finished”. You died upon the cross. I feel you. You gave me breath of life, and then new life. You are my creator. I marvel at your sight. For there is no greater of than the love you give to me. I feel you.
I am wound tight as a clock, and share their tear stained pillows. It is okay, I am getting to understand the empathitist that is me. The empathy that embodies me. I wear each of their shoes for a time to know their pain. Some I have lived first hand. Compassion and grace meet with me daily to converse. I cry for each and every one of them. Pray for each of them. I have wished for its stop, but then I would lack for some of my greatest virtues of all…So the tears they can not stop. There are more to come, so it is time to replace my pillow. I feel you.
Weirds Are Word 