When the Battle is Over

 I ran away from home last night. I've had to do that before, and in the last eight months I've had to do it a lot. The only thing I can tell you is that the inclination to run was so strong that I thought I'd scream. So, I got in my car and drove away. Unfortunately, escape is not simple. In fact, you can't escape. I think that is the trigger for anxiety. It seems to be mine.

The last eight months: Two months of family crisis resulted in exhaustion, leading to a flare lasting months. A medication change that altered my mental and emotional state- numbing pain but creating mental chaos. Constant pain in my legs and back, not touched by medication since October. Very poor sleep. I had frenetic writing episodes that would last up to eight hours a day for three months. And anxiety attacks. All of it has affected my personal interactions with people, so changing churches and meeting new people was another trigger for chaos. 

I needed a cell but had an arena.

So, I ran away last night. Like Elijah, I had to get food into me since it had been hours since I had eaten. Hardee's is close, and they have small chicken wraps that are cheap and good. Protein is good when the body is under stress, something I keep forgetting. 

After I ate, I sat in my car and broke. Into a lot of pieces. Put on music, cried, and asked Jesus to please just sit next to me and hold my hand. I didn't know what else to do. I was at the end of a long road, all by myself. He'd already taken every person I would have called. No one was going to come rescue me from myself. 

And that's what I told him. 

I'm tired of the mental, physical, and emotional chaos, of the pain. I told him how exhausted I am with just being here and that I don't want to be here anymore. 

And it's all true. I've never been this tired, this alone. And I've never wanted to leave this much. 

Don't worry. I'll be fine. I was once told I'm a fighter. It'll keep you going even when you should stop. It will keep you up at night looking for the best way to handle what's coming at you. 

Hell knows you're a fighter, too. It makes you a target for every imaginable and unimaginable thing it can throw at you, physically, mentally, and spiritually. Sometimes, all at once. It wants to stop you. 

 It starts with minor battles. When you survive those, the battles get harder, larger, and inflict more damage. You're going to bleed. You're going to hurt. You're going to want to die. 

If you survive, eventually there will be bodies on the field. You'll lose so many people that the pain will almost destroy you. You'll see them fall, and you'll feel the loss in every cell. But you won't be able to stop fighting. Because a fighter never stops until the battle is over. 

There will always be that one battle where you want to quit, to lie down and stop the pain. The one where you're the only one standing in a field of destruction. But you can't stop fighting. The end is just beyond your ability to see, and the end is what you're fighting to reach. To a fighter, there's something at the end that will fix it all. 

I don't know how many more battles I can fight. I'm kneeling in a field of bodies, bleeding from wounds that no longer heal. And just over that hill right there are hordes heading this way. 

However, I'll get on my feet, pull whatever weapons I still possess close and keep moving. Everyone is gone. And I'm still hoping there's something at the end that will fix everything. 

I hope it isn't very far. I'm tired.

Raveled Sleave of Care

 You met her, didn't you?

It was an unpleasant experience. She just took over. Totally wrecked me. I'm tired, but I don't think I'll sleep. 

Lie down. Close your eyes and think on these things. 

Finally, brethren, whatsoever things are true, whatsoever things are honest, whatsoever things are just, whatsoever things are pure, whatsoever things are lovely, whatsoever things are of good report; if there be any virtue, and if there be any praise, think on these things. Phillipians 4:8

I am not there. I'm not there. 

I know. But you still have to think on these things. 

You'll have to draw me a map today. I don't know where any of that is. Planet Earth. That's where I am. I don't know if you'll find any of that here. 

I didn't say you had to find them. They are already done. You just have to think about them. 

I ... would it be wrong to say I don't want to look anymore? 

It would be pretty stupid. You're not generally stupid.

I'm in so much pain right now that I am not capable of seeing anything beyond my nose. It's dark where I am. You know I am so messed up. Right? You know this. 

I am all the light you need. 

I'm just going to be honest here. I am in a dark place. No light visible. I know. Sounds disrespectful. That screaming woman? The one I said was behind me? Not anymore. She's in me. She is me. I'm her. 

........

Nothing? 

When you're ready. Go get some sleep.

You know Shakespeare?

I taught him everything he knew.

Right. I had to look it up to remember it all. "Sleep that knits up the raveled sleave of care". From Macbeth. The sleave was a skein of yarn. I've dealt with those, and it isn't that easy either. But OK, I'll go. 

The Hidden Things

 So, how are you? 

You're kidding, right?

Not at all. You appear to feel better.

Well, if you pump enough of the right drugs into me... then I guess I'm feeling better.

Oh...

It's true. Pain levels have plummeted since they increased the pills.

That's not what I meant. 

Do you mind if I sit down? Thanks. I know what you meant. I'm fine.

Oh my. I thought that -

Look, it's been the worst three months I've had in 16 years. I've watched my life overturned... again. I've been in more physical pain that I have ever been in my 69 years. I felt more terror that I've known since I was a child. So, if I seem a little distressed, well, there's a reason.

You were very angry. 

Yes.

You're still vibrating with anger, but you're hiding it well. 

I'm not hiding it. If no one knows, they chose not to see. 

I'm sorry.

I'm not angry at you. 

Ah....

OK. I have been. I am. Can we not talk about this. It's excruciating.  

You think I failed you. That I don't care. Perhaps that I caused this?

No. Not that. I know you didn't cause it. 

..........

Did you fail me? I feel I did something wrong, and this is punishment. That my prayers were meaningless. No matter what decisions I made, no matter what prayers I prayed, and no matter what I did, there was no hope of a different outcome. Never. 

I understand. 

That. Does. Not. Fix. Anything. 

You're still angry.

This doesn't feel like anger. It feels like a huge, gaping wound where my life is pouring out. Not sure there is a patch big enough to fix that. I can't fix it. And when the prayers were prayed, so many prayers, so very many prayers, you didn't fix it. It lay there like a viper waiting to jump out and bite me. And here I am. I won't even talk about the pain. It's not anger. It's a roaring, raging pain. Sounds like anger, but don't worry. It's just pain.

You are important to me. You matter. You...

Don't matter. It's not about me! I don't care about me! That's what I keep saying. I don't matter. I care about the people I love. They matter. So if I rant and scream and rail against the things thrown at them, it's not about me. It's about them, and that is all that matters. If there's anger, it's because we don't get a choice about any of this. You know better than anyone about my life. It never mattered at all. 

I am grateful for all the wonderful moments I received. So very, very thankful. I'd have shot myself long ago had it not been for those shining moments that shone light in the darkness. I'm so thankful I can't even express it in words. But this, this thing ... I can't talk about it. It's monstrously ugly and I am so not capable of handling it. I can't handle it ever.

I'm sorry. I'm so very sorry. 

I know. 

#ConversationsWithHim

Food for Thought

I took off to get lunch, well, a late lunch or early supper. Went to Freddie’s and planned to sit in the car and read my book while I ate. Instead, I turned on Pandora and listened to worship music. I’m glad I did. The car filled with a sweet presence and I just sat and praised God with my mouth full. 

It’s been a rough month. I’ve been sick for weeks now. The steroids helped but then the storms rolled in and dropped a house on me. When I told Sarah I felt like the Wicked Witch of the West, she said, “Mid-West, maw maw. You’re in the Mid-West.” 

That’ll teach me.

Wherever I am, I was in so much pain last Monday. I had to go back to bed. I went to sleep for a couple of hours but it didn’t help much. I was still sick the next day. Of course the weather had begun to improve slightly. By Wednesday it was clear and I was so relieved. I still had a lot of pain but I was better. Today, there isn’t much pain but I’m so fatigued if I went to bed right now, I’d be asleep in minutes. 

God is so very good. All I can do at times like this is pray for help. Of course, storms are a normal part of weather and we’ll always have them. I’m highly sensitive to low pressure systems and I don’t know why. I’m just thrilled when they are gone. 

So much is happening in the world and it is troubling. I’m so thankful I can turn to Jesus and he calms my spirit. I can pick up theWord and find solace and assurance that I can find no place else. Without that, I’d be destitute. I needed a meal today and he invited me to come and dine. 

Where Was Job's Wife?

 I've been in a tremendous hole for nearly a month. Sometimes life overwhelms me and I have a meltdown. I've always had a habit of overthinking a problem, but Jerry was the anchor that sort of balanced me. He couldn't always fix the problem, but an anchor is really just to stabilize the boat and keep it from drifting out to sea. He kept the boat from rocking so much.

After he died, I lost all sense of stability. In fact, it felt like I was tossed into a washing machine. My tendency to over think situations escalated to the point I'd lose my self control. I had to ask people for help, something I never did in my entire life. Not ever. Yet, there I was, not able to resolve simple problems because I couldn't think clearly. I couldn't focus. The fibromyalgia brain fog added to the chaos. 

These days, I'm not as unstable as I was, but I'm never going to be who I was before Jerry died. That part of me died with him. Death of a spouse is the death of two people. One of them remains, but 50% of their personality is simply destroyed. They'll recover to some degree, but they'll never be who they were and people who know them well will see it. They won't understand, but they'll see it. I don't sing anymore. I talk too much. I avoid most social events because I don't enjoy sitting in a corner alone. I can't cope with trauma at all. I hate who this made me, what it did to my life, but I can't undo it. So it gets dark sometimes.

So, for the last several months, I've been in a dark place. I can't describe this any way other than they're cold, dark, and devastatingly lonely. One has a tendency to reach out to people. The tendency of those people you reach out to, is to push you away. Really. I mean, didn't you realize that is why people commit suicide so often? They were unseen suffers whose desperation results in people shoving them aside. The excess talking, the neediness all reflect a soul clutching for an anchor for just a few minutes. 

It's hell. Oh, not for you. For them.

When I get in these places, I do a lot of praying. I become very unsociable to protect other people from the fallout. I crawl into my hole and pull the dirt in over me. For me, this is a normal reaction. 

I've tried to overcome this the last several years. And I really wanted to go to church. I needed to go to church! So, I went despite this enveloping darkness.

 Of course, people always think you're in physical pain at these times, and because most folks are shallow, they won't delve too deep. It's easy to let them think what they think. They don't really want to hear about what is really bothering another person. They don't actually see you after the first three minutes. 

I struggled to listen to the lesson during Sunday School. I like the fella who was teaching. He's good. But I was surprised when, out of the blue, a question popped into my head. I'll take you with me for this. 

"Where was Job's wife?" 

He's not teaching about Job. 

No, but where was she?

Job's wife? Well...I guess she was home.  

Sure she was. She was nagging Job, remember?

Yeah, I remember........ wait. She's mentioned one time. I think. They say she told Job to curse God and die.

Yes. That's her. In sermons, they say all he had left was a nagging wife. In fact, she's never named. 

OK. That's harsh.

But where was she?

I don't know.

Well, where was Job?

Oh, he was sitting in an ash heap scratching his sores and moaning with his friends. 

He was. The writer gives it a less judgemental slant, of course.

Of course he does.

Let me tell you about Job's wife. You'll probably recognize her.

I....

Job's wife was in her tent. She was cleaning up the dishes, making beds, washing clothes, cooking a meal for the two of them. That's what was expected of her. Job had lost everything. But Job's wife lost everything she helped him build. She lost her babies; she lost any hope of grandchildren. In her society, this would have been a death blow to any woman. She lost crops, flocks, and children. Job's wife had nothing left, not even her husband. He's sitting in an ash heap scraping his sores and complaining to his comforters. 

The grief she felt was soul crushing and there is no evidence she had comforters, not even the man she'd given her life to, the man she'd born and reared children for, the man she cooked, cleaned, and waited on for decades. He had no time for her. He was suffering. 

"Curse God and die!" she screamed at Job.

"You speak like a foolish child!" he yelled back.

But she wasn't a fool, and she wasn't a child. She was a woman whose whole life was crushed out of existence. As a male, Job could start over. He could build again, get more crops and flocks. He could marry a younger woman and father a new family. But Job's wife... she lost everything that gave her life meaning. Her identity was stripped from her the moment those children died. And she could not start over. 

But the story says God blessed Job, and he had more than he had in the beginning. 

But where was Job's wife?

It doesn't mention her again. 

No it doesn't. 

So ... where was Job's wife?

She was burying her babies. She was cleaning up the mess, cooking the meals, serving Job's comforters wine and cheese, and burying her babies. Job's wife was grieving alone, and she was screaming to die.

Oh. Oh no. 

.............

Job's wife disappeared. There is no indication in the story that Job's wife had more children. No mention of their relationship or of her being blessed. Job was blessed. Where was Job's wife?

The writer neglected to tell us. Although, I think you and I know. You probably understand Job's wife in a way no one else can unless they've lived it.

Yes. 

Why do they do this to us? They make us invisible. It is as if we don't matter. No one sees us. No one hears us. We mustn't make anyone uncomfortable. We're not to draw attention to our pain. Never speak of it. We'll "get over it". We're fools if we don't. No wonder she screamed at him. 

You don't get over it. And you're not fools. But you're going to be all right.

Will I? It hurts. Even now. 

I know. But I see you. l hear you. And you can always talk to me. 

Surely someone reached out to Job's wife? Surely .....

Didn't they?

#ConversationsWithHim

 

Life is So Horribly Painful

 Life is so very painful. No, really, it is horribly painful. Oh, if you’re happy and enjoying things, you don’t notice it. But stop for a minute and think about it. 

From the moment you’re born, you feel the pain that life is going to be. For 9 months, you’re cradled in a warm soft environment that provides for every need. No worries, probably very little actual pain because of Mother's system protecting you. Certainly no grief. 

Then you’re forced through a narrow canal. The bones in your head are constructed so they compress and overlap to allow you to slip through more easily. Yet, you enter the world screaming from that pain and the shock of cold air and the tugging of rubber coated hands and glaring bright lights. Your mother is probably making a similar noise, because giving birth is horribly painful...unless they drug Mama up. 

The first few years you’re coddled but constantly having to beg for food and warmth, and a dry bottom, and shots, and to be held and cuddled. If you get sick, you can’t tell anyone and cry to get the message out, but it takes so much effort you get exhausted. You hurt.

Once you’re on your feet, you stumble and bump every protrusion on your body. You get sick and no one can understand you, so you cry. When you get hurt, you cry. You hurt physically and in your tiny heart. You weep from it. 

Finally, you can make yourself understood! But now they don’t understand you! They won’t let you do things. Sometimes you do them and get hurt and they yell at you, even though you’re sobbing and in pain. You hurt all over, even your brain, because you can’t understand why it has to be so painful. And your heart because they wound you with words.

Teenagers. Ugh. Whoever invented the teen years was just cruel, right? Broken bones, broken hearts, broken egos, broken dreams, broken minds. Everything breaks. And no one understands you! You’re in pain, terrible pain. And no one gets it. They yell more and it hurts more. And you hate everyone and it hurts so terribly you want to die. And sometimes you do.

Adulthood. If you survived this long, it is bound to get better, right? No. Life is horribly painful. 

Now, you’ll deal with broken people. You have miserable jobs or lost jobs. There are bills, lots of bills. There are medical issues. You have wrecked hearts, wrecked dreams, wrecked egos, wrecked minds. Then your car gets wrecked. You get hurt and you weep, but no one understands. You hurt.

Life continues to deal out things that break you. Marriages break. Your children break. Spouses die, children die. Grief slays you for years. Life becomes a horrible nightmare where you’re watching every precious thing put in a hole in the ground. You are not hurting. You’re in agony. 

Life hurts. It hurts so horribly that it is a miracle when we survive it. If we survive it with a smile, it is the greatest miracle of all. 

But we don’t notice all of that. We live in the miraculous. We see the beauty of the screaming baby and forget the raging pain it took to bring it into the world. Mother cradles that tiny bundle and speaks to it. The crying stops, the eyes open, and it stills to listen to the most beautiful sound it will ever hear in its life. Pain is gone, forgotten with that sound. 

With every broken moment, there is a miracle following that erases the memory of pain. We forget the pain, though some pain may linger for many years. It is the miraculous moments that keep us from cracking up. The miraculous mends our hearts, mends our minds, and mends our souls. 

There are times pain is so bad we will always remember it. Death doesn’t just hurt, it leaves an indelible mark. You don’t get over death. But for most of life’s pain, we will never remember what we experienced when it happened. We remember the essence of it, our reactions to it. We can describe how we felt, but we don’t feel it. For grief, this happens in time. It is probably the most devastating pain in existence because you don't get over losing half of yourself.

However, you never forget the miraculous. We never forget the moment we held that baby and heard it cry. In 70 years, it will still bring tears to our eyes, a smile to our face, and joy to our hearts. A miraculous event will temper every painful event we experience in our life. 

We never forget the day we met the person we fell in love with, married, and lost. Never. Yet, when our child marries, we forget the awful teen years and pray for a long and happy life. The kind of life that in that moment, we have lived. Because we forget the horrible pain of life. For a moment.

I have survived on the miraculous because to do otherwise would destroy me. The prophet Jeremiah said, It is of the LORD'S mercies that we are not consumed, because his compassions fail not. They are new every morning: great is thy faithfulness. The LORD is my portion, saith my soul; therefore, will I hope in him. Lamentations 3:22-24.

Life starts over every morning. New pains and we may carry the pain of yesterday with us but the miraculous of today is waiting to help us forget the pain of yesterday. It isn’t always evident until it’s over, but when you see it, hang on tightly. It is there. 

Because He is faithful. 

Would You Like a Menu?

I never remember missing an Easter Sunday in church. I'm sure somewhere in my travels I have, but I can't remember it. Today I missed church.  Of course, I can watch the service online but today I missed even that. For several weeks, I've been waking up in the wee hours of the morning with excruciating cramps in my calves. I live alone in a stone house, so my screams didn't disturb the neighbors. 

Walking is painful. It is the same feeling as a pulled muscle. Not since I was pregnant with Michael have I had leg cramps this bad. That was 42 years ago. Back then, I learned in Lamaze classes how to "break" a cramp. You stretch in the opposite direction of the cramp. If your foot goes down, you pull it up. Only, these cramps won't let me. I have to get out of bed and put my foot down, and that stops it. I'm left with a very painful calf muscle and have to hobble down the hallway. 

For three hours, I sat in my chair and kept telling myself I'd go to church at 11. I didn't. So, I would go to the noon service. Each time I got up to dress, I had to deal with the sore calves and finally just gave up. It hurt and depressed me. 

I know today is the day we remember the price Jesus paid for our freedom, our salvation. He allowed himself to be crucified to pay the penalty for our sins on our behalf. My pain seems unimportant compared to what he endured. I live with constant pain and still can't imagine the horror of his. How dare I miss church for such a little pain? 

I remember a place in the Bible where it says "he was wounded for our transgressions". In another, "by his stripes, we are healed." His pain had a purpose. And he agreed to be wounded for the purpose. He had a choice. He endured the pain because he had a plan.

There is no purpose for my pain. It doesn't make me a better person. I don't magically become more sensitive, compassionate, or understanding. I didn't agree to feel pain, to have rheumatoid arthritis, fibromyalgia, and whatever else this may be. No one asked me. No one gave me a menu to pick the pain I wanted. I wanted none of this. 

This is a consequence of my genetics. I can't fix it or change it. My pain is a consequence of a fallen world that corrupted my DNA. Someone else made the choice for me. They chose unwisely. 

So, there are days I can't walk well or put on a blouse or brush my hair without pain. I can't focus on what you're saying, let alone listen to a long sermon. I love my pastor's preaching and teaching. When I have to exert more effort to listen, I become frustrated and exhausted. So, I stay home. Whether I go or stay, I'll experience frustration and depression because my body has robbed me of the things I enjoy once again. There is no purpose in that. 

This isn't much of a praise post, is it? I don't feel like praise today. I want to curl up and cover my head.  But I didn't. Instead, I read my Bible and praised in the pain. There is a purpose in that.  

The next time you're suffering from some malady, don't beat yourself up if you can't get to church. And don't let others beat you up for it either. If someone makes you feel bad because you didn't go to church, give them a menu and ask them to pick their pain. 

And praise God anyway.

Finding a Way Out of the Fog

I thought I'd share my latest summer vacation photos with you. If it seems a little unclear, you're experiencing exactly what I have experienced.

Isn't that just a photo of ... fog?

Yep.

So, you're saying your summer was foggy? Uhmmm, I seem to remember lots of sun and triple-digit temperatures in your location. Were you somewhere else?

Nope. Well, I visited several states in the southeast but they all look the same.

I'm not following you.

Well, the photos might have been better if you had.

Cute. Your jokes are often quite good. If inappropriate. Let's be serious, because I think you are.

I'm just tired and worn out and feel like everything is out of focus. It feels as if I should see something but this ... this fog is all I'm getting. I have another shot of my life this summer. You want to see it?

Yes?

Here ya go.

Wow.

This is a nice clear shot of everything that has happened this summer. You know, the tornado was probably a sign and I just missed it. From that point on, everything has been in disarray. Chaotic.

You've survived and made it home. 

Yes. A week later my brother didn't.

....

Still no response to that, huh?

I'm not required to answer to you for such things. You can ask all day long but there are some things you are not meant to know. 

They say we'll know someday. I don't really believe that.

Why?

Because if we aren't supposed to know it now, it will be pointless to know it then. The outcome is the same and the reasons won't be important then. I suspect we won't even care. The why of it all will be obsolete.

Obsolete?

We'll be so far removed from the events that knowing the why will cease to mean anything. It won't matter then. The value of knowledge decreases over time. It will be history. And we bury history.

So, it isn't obsolete now?

Maybe but it feels important now. Pain has a way of drawing attention to the source. Time has a way of removing urgency. You reach a point where you know that you're never going to understand and never have a definitive answer. It is what it is. I don't even know sometimes if there is a reason for anything. I think there is, but I could be wrong. So, I've learned that the only thing I can do is leave the bodies behind and keep moving in what I think is a forward direction. But it might be backward. That first photo is pretty much what the road ahead looks like, for me anyway.

Through a glass darkly.

Yeah, well, I'll ask Paul when I see him but I don't think he'll care either. What is done is done and can't be undone. Even if the glass clears, it won't change it. The Great Why is meaningless after the fact. Someone once asked me what I'd ask Jesus when I saw Him. I didn't have an answer then and I don't have one now. I can't think of anything I am dying to know. That is not an intentional pun, by the way.

I'm glad to hear it. So you have nothing you want to ask?

Not at this point. Besides, the Bible says there will be a half hour of silence first. After that, there will be a thousand years of worship. I don't see any place in there where we're allowed to ask questions. There are people who believe it is a mortal sin to question God. So if I can't do it here, why would I be able to do it there? I could ask "Why did you take my Mama? Why did you take my husband? Why did you take my brother? All died before they should have. At least, in my opinion. But the truth is, my opinion is worthless in this matter. It doesn't matter what I think or want. They are gone and nothing I can say or do will change it. And asking why in 1000 years won't change it either. I can only hope I'll be able to see them again. That's all I have. That's all I'll ever have, no matter what else happens.

So, you have hope.

I guess if you want to call it that. I have a fervent desire, an endless craving. But I must be broken because the way my brain works, that's not a comfort. The phrase "it begs the question" comes to mind. Did you put that there?

Maybe. You'll have to think about it.

You know, I love God more than anything. And when you love someone that much, their power over you is tremendous. It means that they have the ability to destroy you or create you. It means that you accept their decision regardless of what that decision is. So, asking you why would be taking that power back. I can't do that. I don't mean I haven't asked: "why." I have, but my head and my heart know you will never tell me and it is extremely painful knowledge. That alone is a kind of grief. But I'd rather throw myself onto the rock than to have it fall on me. Your sovereignty is never in question. In that, I have no doubt. I still bow to your decisions. Even when I don't like them. Even when they hurt me.

I think you'll find your way out of the fog.

I hope you're right. I can't stop and wait for it to clear.

#ConversationsWithHim

The Devil in the Dark

How am I supposed to be thankful today? How can I be glad when death can enter the room anytime he wants and take what is not his. Wherever you are, whatever you're doing, whoever you're with, he can simply walk up and crook his finger and destroy everything.

.......

What? No answer? No response? Nothing to say?

......

Why would you create such a creature? A dark, loathsome thing that has no dignity or manners.

He has barged into my life three times and wrecked it. For what? What did it accomplish? I'm not a better person. I'm worse than I was the day before. I'm broken. Irreparably damaged because pieces of me are missing. I can't ever be put back together. I'm walking wounded, bleeding internally.

Did I say it was a terrible day? The sun shines and the birds sing, and the boiling cauldron we've been in has simmered down a bit. But the shadow cast by that beast does not retreat. No, he leaves his stench everywhere. Sachets of it that burst open as they rot and envelope you in a stinking cloying cloud when you least expect it that chokes you, burns your eyes, and wrings your insides until you want to scream. To what end?

And he cares not who he strikes. Tiny babies and old men. Young men and old women. Beautiful girls and ugly crones. It doesn't matter. I often wonder if the destruction he leaves in his wake gives him pleasure.

Despite what Touched by an Angel would have you believe, death is not an attractive man in a lovely suit holding your hand while you die. He isn't kind, loving, or gracious. He's the uninvited guest at the table. The stalker peering through the windows or around the corner. He's the unconcerned onlooker who watches you as you drown but never moves to rescue you.

Death is not a gentleman. He is the Devil in the dark.

And you created him. Through Him, all things were made, and without Him, nothing was made that has been made. 

There is no comfort for the lives he destroys. Time doesn't heal these wounds. We struggle to keep them covered until the next attack.


Note:
(This blog is, and has always been, my conversations with God. Sometimes they're direct talks, meaning, I am actually talking and leaving a response to my comments that I feel inspired to leave. You can believe they're my own comments if you like. Other times, I simply write about what is in my heart. Today, my heart is wounded and hurting.

My belief is that God always understands where we are coming from. He isn't confused. We might be confused, but He isn't. And when I need to tell him how bad my situation is, He is not intimidated by my anger, frustration, and pain. So, if this post offended you, I'm sorry you're offended. You can talk to Him if you'd like but don't pray for me if you are offended. You aren't serving the same loving, understanding, and patient God that I am. I don't need prayers to strange gods on my behalf.)

#ConversationswithHim

Booboos

I've managed to get through the holidays relatively unscathed by the darkness that has so often accompanied this time of year.

Yes, you've done well.

Truth is, I've been too sick to notice what month it was, never mind what anniversary. I was sick through Thanksgiving and Christmas and New Year. I totally forgot my wedding anniversary... even though my son got married on the same date. I didn't remember until he posted something on Facebook. And the anniversary of Jerry's death... I remembered the day after.

How did you feel about that?

Horrible. Like I'd done something wrong.

Life goes on. 

Really? Cliches?

I invented them... well, I said things that others made into cliches. 

I know I've used a bunch of them. Anyway, so, today things got dark. It sort of rolled in like a fog, I felt it approaching yesterday and today it just settled over me. I didn't want to be alone but Sarah went home for the weekend.I honestly was looking forward to some alone time.

How long did that last?

About 5 minutes. Well, actually longer but the heaviness just sat there. It is past my bedtime and I know if I go to bed I'll not rest well. I'm in pain, too, so it isn't helping. My RA meds finally wore off.

..........

What am I missing?

I don't know if you're missing anything

I'm not going to write a sigh or the mental laugh that I just had but I thought you knew everything?

What makes you think you're missing anything?

Because I don't feel like I get anything right.

You've felt better; I don't mean pain wise.

It was just a fluke.

I don't do flukes. Unless you're talking about liver flukes. I did those. 

All right. I admit. I've had a more positive attitude. I've felt like ...

Go on, say it. And don't give me that look.

I've felt like some things were ... right.

There. That didn't hurt, did it?

Actually . . .

Stop.

I feel terrible.

Had you bothered to have a conversation with me earlier, I might have been able to alleviate some of your stress. You choose to wrestle with it and have suffered because of it. You come now and expect me to kiss your wounds and make it all better. I can't. Unattended wounds tend to get infected if left untreated. You know this as well as I do. Yet, you let it fester. 

Uh. . .

I'm not done. Yes, I could just wipe it all away but if I did that every time you hurt, you'd never learn anything. You have a choice to live in a bubble or live life. The reality is that life, real life, hurts. It hurts tremendously. To have life, you must hurt. If you don't, you're not living. However, when it hurts, you have a physician who can get you through the rough spots. You'll have wounds, you'll bleed, and you'll have scars. You'll just live life through it. 

.......

I'm done now.

I guess I just forgot.

If I had a nickel....

I think I'm going to bed now. I'm sure rest will be good for me.

#ConversationsWithHim