My Daddy has Cancer

I did because you said I couldn’t.

I did because you said I wouldn’t.

All my life I’ve been shaped by you.

Not doing what you’d want me to.

When did it change, this disdain?

When did I cry out in pain?

When did it start,

and when did I stop, hating you?

Now I see in you, what I never saw.

Your push, your drive, your stubborn will; replaced.

Two words actually changed it all.

“I’m sorry,” you said to me.

Your “I’m sorry” set me free.

I can chose to love you now.

I can refuse to hate.

Your words gave my heart new eyes.

I see a different man.

My eyes see you wasting away and my heart breaks because you said you were sorry.

You realized at some point that you had crushed my soul. I felt your disapproval. I knew I was not who you wanted me to be.

It took years for you to garner your strength; however, you became strong by admitting you were wrong.

You bowed your pride and loved me.

It would be easier to lose you if I didn’t love you now.

I can because you said I couldn’t. I did because you said I shouldn’t.

You shaped who I have become.

Intentionally or unintentionally you taught me how to be who I am.

Now, in this…Daddy, may my LOVE shape you.

I know you thought that it couldn’t.

It has, though I know you thought that it wouldn’t.

Couldn’t… wouldn’t… Did

Unacceptable Death

Shock. Heart-ache. Loneliness and a deep sense of loss.

A feeling that the earth has stopped spinning in its orbit.

Death. Why do you rob the soul of so much?

Time why have you become an enemy to my heart?

Heart-wrenching sobs escape from the depths of my soul. There must be no more air in my lungs, as I am unable to breathe. Intense gasping and numbness engulf me as I look heavenward. How?

How will I survive this gaping wound;

this unacceptable death?

Contemplation of life and love and loss leads me to one conclusion only. My life will be forever changed. My soul looks Heavenward for solace as I seek understanding, and as I remember who I was before death crushed my soul.

My spirit will believe that there is a comfort capable of going beyond my understanding.

I look to God and ask for him to hold my heart; to quiet my convulsive cries, and to catch my streaming tears, while I wrestle with this death; and all of its unwelcomed aftermath.

Death, though inevitable is entirely unacceptable.

An Asymmetrical Girl

I am asymmetrical

In a symmetrical world

Asymmetrical

I am an asymmetrical girl.

I do not lack substance

Although I am not clearly defined.

My form may not be pleasing to you. I don’t really mind.

Beauty beholders will often see that some ideals are just trickery.

An Asymmetrical in this symmetry loving world…

Will see the depth of spirit in this overcoming girl.

YES

I am Asymmetrical in a symmetrical world Asymmetrical, I am an asymmetrical girl.

Dawn

My heart needs the whisper of the wind.

It needs the silence surrounding dawn.

My heart sheds tears as it hears the song of the birds. The sunrise brings fluttering things that I need to know.

White butterflies have an obscure beauty, a purity and humbleness that my heart aches for in ways that I do not understand.

Little Squirrel; where are you scampering? Worm, did you know that the mockingbird was eyeing you?

Gentle Breeze; why do you blow? Where are you going? Do you know?

Tears…where are you bound, as glorious day breaks, who sees you?

Why cry?

The Green Grass knows your soul and the Water sees its sister streaming from your heart.

Broken? This heart is not broken. This heart is longing; longing for the freedom, for the joy, for the release from the power of the dark night.

My heart needs the whisper of the wind,

the power of Dawn as she silently awakens the world.

My heart yearns for you, Dawn.

I need your Light in my dim soul.

My Boy

A boy soldier is marching to war

with arrow in hand ready to soar.

This boy has no fear marking his face.

He steadies his hand; readies his gaze.

The arrow flies to destiny’s flight; breathless boy in the darkening night.

His aim is true, the target secure.

My breathless boy is so fearless and pure.

The war rages on and arrows fly.

He braces his heart prepared to die.

Strength and terror an unlikely gift;

Prepared his soul for this coming rift.

He raises his eyes and clearly sees

Freedom coming; he falls to his knees.

Thankful for all that’s given to him,

The sun fades away growing so dim.

His father comes and grasping his hand,

Leads him to bed his day was so grand.

He dreams of peace not his pretend wars,

With wings of eagles, my boy now soars.

Day to Day Mommy

The Summer of Great Sorrows (TSoGS) last year, was the summer that took my Daddy’s life. His funeral was on the day of my Danny Boy’s birth. It was like grieving them both on the same day; new death and unforgotten death; together, buried on the same day. That day I greive two of the men I love unconditionally. They are out of my earthly life forever. It is the worst day on the “Jana” calendar; a day of my heart’s forever grief.

TSoGS also robbed my mommy.

I know. Mommy is not a word an adult uses for her mother. I did not know Mommy was a young child’s nickname for ‘Mother’ I thought “Mommy” was Helen Tisdale’s name.

Her name is still Mommy to me. When death takes her; I will be an earthly orphan, with both Mommy and Daddy: gone. It will replace 6/29/2018 as the worst day on the “Jana” calendar.

In The SoGS; there was a tragic accident that ended the life of my daddy in five short days and robbed my mommy of who she used to be.

It is certainly hard to reconcile in one’s heart that the best day of your life was one of the thousands of days that came before this day… but you don’t remember which day it was, or what happened on that day. That is what the accident took from my mom.

It took the memory of the best day of her life. It took the memories of all of the best days of her life.

She has so many jumbled long term memories, and then she has a short-term loop of memory.

I call her my Day-to-day-Mommy. She knows me. Every day she knows me. Every day she knows me but can’t remember yesterday.

‘I have never been to see her, and she wishes I would just call!’ (Her perception not her reality.)

My Day-to-day-Mommy is someone I am extremely grateful for, and am happy to have in my life, but she breaks my heart when she does not remember yesterday.

My Day-to-day-Mommy; I love you.

If Daddy and Mommy had both been killed in the accident during TSoGS, perhaps it would have been a more joyous exit from this earth for her. I think, however, it would have been the ruin of me.

We each must endure the heartaches we face; sometimes that means we are alone. Only we, know our own hearts; we know, and God knows. He sees our sorrow.

I hold to the belief that a day is a gift. My mom has been given additional days, and rather than being something that she just has to endure; there will be purpose and beauty. She (and I) will diligently seek the gift. It was a choice we did not make. It is not where we want to be, but it is where we are. This is the saying my mom coined after Dan’s death and is the grass burr behind my cerebral cortex.

“It is not where we want to be, but it is where we are.”

It is an unusual gift. No one wants undies for Christmas; but undies are a practical gift. Gifts are not always faery dust and joyous magical thing-a-ma-bobs. Some gifts are practical, useful and questionable. These gifts of days for my mom and me are like that… in our season of waterproof mascara, or naked eyelashes…we will unwrap this gift; me and my Day-to-day-Mommy.

It is where we are.

Where Do I Start?

Where did my song go?

Why can’t I sing?

Where is the joy

That God’s Spirit brings?

Why am I bound by

Life’s many woes?

Why was this heart

Shattered by my foes?

~~~~~~~~~

Have I been blinded?

I look within.

Am I deceived;

is it my own sin?

Will forgiveness

recover my joy?

Was I undone,

by a plot and ploy?

~~~~~~~~~

I must see clearly,

to really know.

I want vision,

in order to grow.

I need God’s Spirit.

That’s where I start.

I need melodies;

deep in my heart.

~~~~~~~~~

Discover Song,

I was meant to sing—

solace that music,

alone will bring.

Melodies; harmonies

flow within.

I fight my fears—

and loudly begin.

~~~~~~~~~

Self-Speak

Meandering Reflections and Self-Speak

In the early morning light I look for you. I hear your voice in the rustling wind and in the cool breeze. Tears glide effortlessly from the heartache in my soul down my cheeks on their journey to nowhere. They leave invisible scars on my face as they etch a chasm between who I was and who I am. As the valley becomes deeper I am amazed that the world doesn’t see. I look in the mirror and wonder who she is who looks back at me.

Will my broken heart ever be healed or will the chasm split me in to?

Believe? I must believe…in weakness I am strong and in vulnerability I have power to conquer…self-speak. I must self-speak. I am more than a conqueror. I am a woman who is perfectly loved by One who knows me better than I know myself. One who walks with me through the haze of life and knows the pain of death.

Self-speak…Jesus loves me this I know, for the Bible tells me so.

Universe, know! I choose to believe that these tears will be the silent prayers that my heart and breath are unable to pray. I believe that they are treasured gifts to the One who knows my soul.

Should the chasm of tears break me in half?

The Healer of hearts will restore me. I hear it in the breath of the wind. The trees have told me so.

Malaga Spain

Majestic arches into times now unknown.

Ruling governments conquered, then overthrown.

Surrounded now, as it was surrounded then,

by beauty and grace, and by hoards of men.

Forgetting and forgotten wisdom of God,

treading in the streets that were so often trod.

The Grecians, the Romans and the Sultan Kings,

The beauty, the wisdom and powerful things.

Did they hear Wisdom’s words? Did they heed her call?

Or forsaken, surprised, at their city’s fall?

Nothing remains now but the mortar and stone

And sweet imaginations I dream alone.

A city surrounded by legend on sea;

And treasured by Nations, by kings, and by me.

Water Bug

Water bug, water bug,

large and gross.

Water bug water bug,

don’t get close.

I’ll screech, I’ll scream,

I’ll jump, I’ll shout!

I’ll squash you Bug,

if you don’t get out!

No one likes guts and gore.

Not on the kitchen floor.

But I’ll screech, I’ll screem,

I’ll jump, I’ll shout!

I’ll squash you Bug,

if you don’t get out!

Get out!

Why Love Then?

Why Love Then.
When we love we put ourselves in a place of eventuality.
The possibility of beauty and the possibility of ruin is equal, in the prospect of loving another.
It is as likely that love changes us into an exquisite many-faceted crystal, as it is that love changes us into mired dirt, broken and trod upon.

Why love then? Why risk the elemental pressure of nature, taking a small measure of love, and turning it into something beyond the control of a beating heart.

Dust or glitter. Dirt or quartz.

Do we choose how love will turn out when offered to others?
No.

We control just one thing. How our love is given. Is it given unreservedly? Is it given with the knowledge that there may be extreme pain, because the death of love may be more devastating than never loving?

Love changes that which it owns.

Why love then?

Though devastated; though destroyed; there is an unmistakable echo in the heart of one who loves. Words may be garbled and feelings may be crushed; nevertheless the echo is there in a still quite Voice.
“You Love. Love is the greatest gift given by the heart of a living soul. You Love. That which you have planted in tears will be reaped in joy because you LOVE.”

The beating heart, which yields to Love in the smallest of ways, will never be the same. The unabashed heart which yields in totality may be trampled and yet; Love changes that which it owns.

Why love then? Why love when the heart may be broken and the offering may be trampled as dirt, and blown by the wind? Why love when offering love may not produce glorious, solid, observable beauty?

Love for the eventuality. Love for the possibility. Love for love’s eternal harvest; the increase of Love.
Why love? GOD is love and when we love we are like Him.

Why love?

Love for LOVE’S sake then.

Fiery Fleck (Around the Fire)

Find joy in a moment gazing at a lone fiery fleck

sacred solitude;

reflection in a sensory speck.

Sit in silence peering in wonder at the roaring pyre.

The universe collides with thought, around a blazing fire.

Yellow, orange and deep blue burn consuming both wood and thought.

Soul simplicity emerges; artistic renderings wrought.

Hearts melt in the dancing fire.

Churning flames; fanning desire.

Insipid reason slips from mind, challenged by warmth and light.

Sacred silence, oh fiery fleck, love profound, darkest night.