I’ve been in therapy for a while. Shocking! Me, in therapy? LOL, I can’t imagine life right now without a little help from the big guy upstairs and those he anoints down here, so for now, I am GRATEFUL for the opportunity to talk out my issues so they don’t control me, oppress me, keep me from joy and it isn’t always easy. Honestly there are days that I want to put on my happy face and run for the hills, there are days that I just hang my head and wish I was on any other planet but this one, and then there are days that I hear a familiar voice saying, ” I know how you feel” or “I’m going through the same thing” and then I know I am right where I am supposed to be for now. There are even days I drop my crackberry, no, submerge it in a full glass of tea, kill it, and stop and lay hands on it and pray because I am willing to be “silly for God” as a friend said. (That phone was healed too, can’t explain, but worked like a charm.) I won’t spend this post bragging about my therapist, although he is the best I have ever seen, because it is God through him that helps him be so effective, so to God I say thank you, deeply. This post will be two poems, one from 1999 and one from now, to show myself how my perspective has changed, and honestly the second one isn’t written yet, so its content is a mystery. I start here, 7-22-99
Hourglass of my Soul
Eyes closing, gentle
Images of my childhood
flash like billboards.
Each vision separate, yet distinct,
a world unto itself
united in the universe called “me.”
Spliced fragments of my humanness
forming the essence of who I am today.
Echoing the passions of a misspent youth.
Incessant reruns of mistakes,
a young girl merely learning how to embrace life.
Triumphs and tragedies
frame each scene
leaving me to question
my choices and their
inevitable course on the
roadmap of my life.
I know where I’ve come from
I know where I’m going.
Save time and the hourglasses last grain
I may once again bask in the light of a new day
rejoicing in the gift of humanity.
Tears fell and will fall
reminding me of what once was
and will be.
Drawing from the wellspring of my spirit
to pen words to page
recording the fundamental truth
of what it means to be alive,
a soul within and without.
And here 10 years later, almost scared to write this one, but never call me a chicken!
Days go by where strength is hard to come by
and I look upward to you, for the lifeline to hold on to
with frail hands, broken hearted pieces, and quietly
as if drifting on a moonflake, I hear it,
Your name fills my soul, and heals its brokenness.
Your name finds the darkest places in my heart
and with grace, gently forms bonds once broken
by choices and pain from external to inward wounds.
Curve after curve of difficult mountains to climb
seemed insurmountable, and days I knew my last
breath was near you sent your voice, once again,
floating softly in the wind, through the trees, your name
Your name, saying, “It is well, It is well with my soul”
Countless moments of doubt, of confusion blanket me
like a skin that won’t scrub off and is part of me.
But for now, I no longer fight the parts of me that feel foreign
they are of me, part of me, and beautifully made.
And in them, in the likeness of my creator, I hear your name
I hear your name calling out to me, picking my face up
off the floor, and saying my child, every part of you,
is wonderfully made because I made you in my image.
Your brokenness I know,
for my son was broken and is now whole.
Your loss, I know,
for I lost my son, and then he was found.
Your pain I understand,
for in losing my son, my pain was heartbreaking.
Your sadness I know,
because in your free will choices are made.
In your confusion, I bring clarity,
because I know the spirit who confuses you.
I know your innermost thoughts, your desires, your hopes, your pain,
I know you, because You are of me.
And my eyes close, the tears flow,
and with my lips I say your name,
and know you are here, with me in all things, beside me,
carrying me, and in nothing will I be afraid.
And I close my eyes and say your name,
and I close my eyes, lift my head, and hear it,
the angels in heaven singing your name,
to my heart,
to my spirit,
to my strength
so that on this day, and all days forward,
I will know it like I am breathing, your name,
Jehovah, Abba, Father, Daddy!
And with that, I believe a lot has changed in ten years. I’ll have to ponder this one a bit, but my first instinct is to say “Hallelujah!” If you physically can’t paint, write, then paint with words, often your masterpieces come as a wordsmith, not as a painter.
|1|| Unto thee lift I up mine eyes,
|2|| Behold, as the eyes of servants look
hand of their masters,