jealousy...

MARCH 11, 2012

 

I guess I’m jealous. Jealous of those who have lived in the same house for the last sixty years. Jealous of those who do not have the compulsion to hoard, to not let anything go. I have been enormously successful at doing that, but I still agonize over things that are lost, such as my “old” home… my chickens, the garden, the hilltop where the wind blows. I miss those things so intensely… I just went out to look at the stars, and there are only a few to see. I was spoiled by the vastness there, by the darkness where the stars were so visible.

And yet, the old song says, This world is not my home, I’m just a passing through…and no I don’t feel at home. I want to be HOME… and somehow, I have to make this place home, because it is what God has given me.

Can’t give up. Want to give up. Can’t give up.

Lord have mercy on me…I hear that You are a jealous God, you don’t want us to have anything before you… and I want You more than I want a place, or anything… and yet, I yearn for a home. I’ve lived in this house for ten years. It has never been home. I hold everything at arms’ length, I don’t let it in, and then I wonder just why it isn’t home. It feels like there has been just too much hurt, I can’t open up, I must curl in and not get hurt.

But if I continue to curl in, there will be no one here. And that’s what I fear the most, that there will be no one here.

So does this make any sense at all??

silliness...

MARCH 8, 2012

 

it’s strange. I sit here and write on this blog that no one reads. Why does it satisfy me in the least? And then there’s the issue of going to bed. i am not really a night owl, but lately I can’t seem to make myself go to bed. It’s crazy. Has something to do with being here all alone. I don’t like it. If it was really just MY home would it make a difference? If it was, I would have a dog. I miss Chance.

I’m just being a spoiled, selfish little girl. When I go to bed I will cry. I keep trying to distract myself when what I need to do is just bring it all before the Lord, confess my silly selfish self and go to sleep. It will look better in the morning.

Thankful that I have a warm bed, a house, a roof over my head, a place to dig in the dirt. Sad that my husband is far away… in the same town but might as well be half a world away. Lord, have mercy on those wives whose husbands are far overseas, and who don’t know what their husbands will be like when they return. They make such sacrifices for the freedoms of others. The ones at home do too.

So I am going to stop whining. Jesus, I don’t know why you would love someone like me, but I am so glad you do…

and I have not been consistent in my 1000 thanks. But you know, it’s okay…

tomorrow is another day, and it is YOUR day, Lord, so I will rejoice in it.

dementia wars...

This is a photo I took for a photo challenge, and I titled it “Dementia Wars”. So sad that we have to tie the doors together so E. won’t escape. Seems dangerous somehow, in case of fire… but also dangerous are the cement steps outside and the cement steps that go down to the basement. One night she was convinced that someone was hiding in the basement and wouldn’t leave the door closed and locked. So  we had to resort to bungee cords. Her poor arthritic fingers can’t budge them…

Even though I’ve been through a lot these last couple weeks, it hasn’t been directly. Two friends in surgery, one in ICU with brain swelling. My dad a couple weeks ago, and this week my grandson.em.

Haven’t heard about G’s brain swelling. The S.’s surgeries went well, my dad is home, my grandson went home today. Lots to thank the Lord for…

Listening to Honeytree’s Doors and Windows. Good music…

imagination...

MARCH 1, 2012

can you have too much imagination?

Today I do. Our sweet grandson, not even two weeks old, is there in the hospital, fighting for his life. They’re running tests. I sit here in puddles of tears, because I can just see him, in my mind’s eye, with tubes going in and out, and poor babe not knowing what’s going on, or able to tell if there is anyone there in this nightmare. His Mumma is huddled there beside him, I know, missing her other three boys and her dear husband. And from here, all I can do is pray. And yet, that’s the most important, isn’t it, to continue to pursue relationship with this God of ours; a fiery, fierce, demanding relationship… breathing hot and alive. And then there’s G. who is in another hospital fighting for his life, losing the battle against the cancer that has invaded his brain. And there’s S. who will be undergoing surgery for that same enemy. And another S. who just had surgery to repair something in her head…. and all those that I pray for, friends of friends, children of friends, husbands, wives… those who have been stabbed with physical, emotional, spiritual pain.

And yet in the middle of it, we are to give thanks. And to believe that yes, God knows what He’s doing. So I pray for these all, knowing that God does not allow affliction for no reason at all. His purposes are only hinted upon; we do not usually see until later.

So Lord, I give thanks for you. And I give thanks for all you are doing in these lives. And I will praise you, even through my tears.