thick clouds

friends dear to us

have had their hearts exploded by tragic loss

clouds dark have settled over us all

in my quiet time with the Lord this morning

He spoke these words

in Africa funeral houses fill with wailing cries

this, when there are no words

they do not fear the depth of mourning

this makes sense to you now

your people, your village is shaken

I hear cries that they think they should suppress

there is no need, no reason 

to be strong

I Am the strength for all

stand together in your weakness

those who already have answers

did not hear them from Me

all in the waiting

I said to my soul, be still, and wait without hope

For hope would be hope for the wrong thing; 

wait without love

For love would be love of the wrong thing; 

there is yet faith

But the faith and the love and the hope are all in the waiting.

Wait without thought, for you are not ready for thought. 

So the darkness shall be the light, and the stillness, the dancing.

T.S. Eliot

One year ago, it was not the Saturday of waiting

for the glory of Easter Sunday, no

that day of rejoicing had come

and gone, weeks before

last year today was a Friday

a different day of waiting

for what we knew would come

but could never prepare for

and by Saturday, she was

simply no longer here

grief is sticky, having 

it's way with me

there is no calendar

for mourning

no limit to tears

I wait for Sunday

in the stillness with Sandy

 

notes to Mom

four months, or days

or years my tears have fallen 

hard and fast this week

small seeds of ache

sprouting and swollen

fill me with memories

hard and sweet

so much of you lives on in me

the sharp impatience, the need to be

right at any cost

the stiff and painful joints

but also the curiosity, playfullness

and the love, above all

the heart filled with love

and the need to care for

life is picking up speed

down here, where you no longer

have your being

so much I would share

and wonder if you know

somehow

and if you miss me too

walking with Emily, broken, redeemed and thankful
 

Eight things I learned in June

At Chatting at the Sky Emily Freeman posted the following:

At the end of each month I like to share a few things I've learned. Sometimes it’s educational and informative but usually not. Usually I've discovered a quirk I didn't know I had or a fascinating-to-me celebrity connection. It’s a mishmash of ordinary life stuff, things that may go unnoticed if I didn't decide to write them down. This month, at the suggestion of a reader, I decided to invite you all to share what you learned in June as well.

So here's my few cents with links back to the posts where my thoughts wandered.

I learned:

the old must be removed to allow for new growth: cultivation

I need to let go to allow God to do His work: open hands

living in the middle of the rainbow is where all the beauty shines: here, now, middle

there is beauty in imperfection: windy free

nothing will stop time but it is in His hands: slippery time

grief has its own schedule: two months gone

we are not meant to stand alone: two are better than one

there is something stronger than darkness: there is a light

Joining Emily at Chatting at the Sky where we're all learning
 

two months gone

It feels like much longer 

than two months ago

or perhaps just yesterday 

Mom drew a last difficult breath 

then stopped

it seems impossible 

that she is gone 

hand and mind reach daily for the phone 

to check in with no one

grief travels a winding road

often silent, shadowed

a walk through the woods

trees in full leaf

grief travels a winding road

screams, memories flashing

clouds drawn back

exposing the raw 

I can't predict, or dictate

as I open my hands

to the wind, trusting

storms of tears

wash clean

 

poured out

image found at http://www.pilgrimscribblings.com

Sunday morning I had to opportunity to share the message at a small church about three hours from home.  I spoke of consecration, of being "sold-out".

My life is not my own, but His
the fruit I bear, not for myself to nibble
but a meal to serve

as Oswald Chambers wrote:

We are here to submit to His will so that He may work through us what He wants. Once we realize this, He will make us broken bread and poured-out wine with which to feed and nourish others.

My life is being ·given as an offering to God [ poured out as a drink offering]
2 Timothy 4:6a Expanded

so what of these crumbs
the remains of me
scattering
upon the table
an altar
where all I was
drains, drips, pours
open hands can not hold
treasure or torture
grief, regrets released
wash away in that flood
broken bread
swept into the wind

joining Peter and the gang where we're letting go of grief

and hanging out at the pub