Unfocused and Jumbled

As for me, I will call upon God, and the Lord shall save me. Evening and morning and at noon I will pray, and cry aloud, and He shall hear my voice. Psalm 55: 16-17 NIV

Dirt clung to my fingers. It was almost impossible to pick up black, bok choy seeds from little cups. Two other co-op members joined me in trying to plant the elusive, teeny dots. My early morning chore would help to fulfill the sixteen hours required for the growing season. 

Four containers of soil were attached to each tall pole that lined the garden. Only by standing on my tiptoes, could I see into the top tier. 

A seed was to go into every corner of the hanging pots. I circled making small indentations, dropping seeds, and replacing the dirt. Only one seed was to be put into each hole. 

My mind wandered. Did I get each corner? Had I remembered every pot? I tried to focus. I tried different, rather scattered, methods.  After several attempts, I had a routine. Make all the indentations. Drop a seed and cover it right away. It worked. By the time I figured it out, over half of my row was finished.

During my grief, much of my life has been unfocused and scattered. Some days my mind functions clearly. Then I feel completely jumbled. 

Don’t  make any important decisions for a year. That made sense to me. Would I even be ready then?  

As I dealt with my parents’ finances, before and after their deaths, along with Alan’s estate, I was often overwhelmed. Added to all of that was keeping up with my own affairs of running a household. 

There were days I was drowning. I could barely lift my head to take a gulp of air. Over time, I learned to float or even paddle a bit. Then another wave would hit. I felt myself slammed to the bottom again. But the struggle to reach the top lessened in intensity and duration. 

With eyes closed and uncertain of the path to safety, arms surrounded me and lifted me to the top. Over and over family members, friends, and even kind strangers have made my journey easier. 

Father, thank you for staying with me and providing unending help as I struggle to rise above the waves. Amen

Comfort During the Storms

Even though surrounded by people at the reunion, loneliness took me captive. I struggled. Constant reminders mocked my loss. Alan no longer enjoyed the bountiful buffet of delicious food. He was not sitting by me nor getting me a lemonade. There were fewer jokes and smiles to make me laugh. Animated conversations surrounded me,  but I felt detached. 

Tears came. Arms enfolded me. Kind words encouraged me. Others missed him too. All afternoon tears occasionally seeped out.

Exhaustion touched every cell of my body. But sleep eluded me. I prayed. I thought of happy times. Nothing helped. 

In the quiet of night, I wept. Grief overtook me. Instead of my normal short bout of crying, tears flowed and flowed and flowed. I longed to escape the intense pain. 

Thunder rumbled faintly and  then boomed. Rain pattered on the roof before a deluge hit. Covers formed a cocoon around me. Strangely, when the storm came, I felt relaxed and at peace in the dark room. 

God has not taken the storms of my life away. But He constantly gives me peace, strength, and comfort during them.

Hear my cry, O God, attend to my prayer. From the end of the earth I will cry to You, when my heart is overwhelmed; lead me to the rock that is higher than I. For you have been a shelter for me, a strong tower from the enemy. I will abide in your tabernacle forever; I will trust in the shadow of Your wings. Psalm 61: 1-4 NIV

Dear Lord, thank you for your unending love, protection, and peace. When you don’t take my pain, guide me though it. Amen

Dark Clouds

Psalm 18:6, 29 In my time of need, I called to the Eternal; I begged my True God for help. He heard my voice echo up to His temple and my cry came to His ears.

With Your help, I can conquer an army; I can leap over walls with a helping hand from You. The Voice

Wind and rain thrashed against my windows. Red numbers announced 4:30 AM. The storm heightened my aloneness. I listened to the turmoil. Within minutes, it stopped.

At dawn, I searched the horizon from my patio. Gigantic, gray puffballs rolled across the sky. Streams of sunlight beamed between the dark obstacles. Cool breezes wafted through the screen. 

I decided to take a bike ride and then finish my devotions later. Suddenly, the lake changed. Thousands of raindrops peppered the water. My ride was delayed.

As I read, clouds raced by. The sun quickly chased the rain away. My bike ride was on again.

Another gust of wind abruptly brought another outburst. Three morning showers were unusual for Florida. 

An hour passed. Sunlight dominated. Most dark clouds moved on. Butterflies and bees flitted from flower to flower. Dragonflies zoomed near the lake. Wind brushed leaves and rippled the water. Sunlight alleviated some of the sadness of being alone. 

Eagerly, I took my pink bike through my neighborhood. Bike riders and walkers greeted me. Drivers waved. Warm breezes touched my face. Shady trees made the ride more pleasant.

Rain allowed dawn coolness to linger. White clouds replaced slate ones. My ride lifted my spirits.

The dark clouds and sudden rain reminded me of the unexpected attacks of grief.  Out of nowhere it catches me off guard. Blasts my peace. Erodes contentment. Brings tears and isolates me. Mocks my attempts to overcome the pain. 

But like passing clouds, it abates for a time. Sunshine returns hope and joy. The grief journey doesn’t follow a predictable path forward. The trip goes up and down. Slides backward, circles, and stops frequently. Struggles become less painful but don’t disappear.  The journey continues and continues and continues. 

Loving Father, thank you for holding me during my pain and distress. Thank you for your comfort as you lead me down the path of grief. Amen

Welcome Peach

May God the Father and the Lord Jesus the Anointed surround you with grace and peace. Ephesians 1:2 The Voice

Blackness engulfed the lake. I stepped onto the patio before dawn. A lone planet blazed. By overhead light, I read my Bible and devotionals. 

Slowly darkness  changed to crystal blue while the sun crept up from behind the trees. The fiery  ball tinted feathery clouds a bright pink. My panoramic view revealed a radiant, expansive sky.

Four wild turkeys waddled across the grass. Lizards scurried around my patio screen. Crickets hummed a greeting. Dragonflies flitted above the lawn and to the lake. Silhouetted birds flew high.

Nestled in the serenity of dawn, I rested in peace. Schedules, paperwork, and concerns faded. God’s majesty shone with the sun. Creation displayed His power, creativity, faithfulness, and comfort. 

Creator, thank you for your magnificent creation which gives me comfort and peace. Amen 

A Hair Raising Experience

Dark clouds brought dusk early. Rain sprinkled the lake. Anne, Ashlyn, Emily, Molly, and I sat on my patio after dinner. We relaxed and enjoyed the peacefulness of the lake. 

Mother turkey and her two poults scavenged the yard for dinner. We scanned the lake for the huge alligator I had observed earlier in the day but didn’t see him. 

“The rain stopped. Why don’t we go for a walk along the lake? Maybe we can see the gator by my neighbor’s house,” I said.

Our barefooted group walked through the wet grass. As we neared the first house, a sharp twinge hit my back.

“Ouch,” I cried.

“What happened, grandma?” the girls asked.

“It felt like something stabbed my back. It’s ok now.”

When we neared the next house, the girls laughed. “Grandma, your hair is sticking up.”

I patted my head trying to tame my new curls. Then they told me that my hair was sticking straight up.

Only when I noticed Ashlyn, did I realize we had a problem. Her hair was also sticking straight up. Before I could even look to see if anyone else had that problem, I knew we had to move quickly to my house.

“We have to get inside. Hurry!”

Anne and I rushed them to my porch. We didn’t answer their questions until we were safe. 

Anne googled the strange occurrence. The answers were frightening. Get inside. Good, you aren’t dead. Get down on the ground in a crouched position. Lightning is about to strike.

Scientific answers related how we were positively charged and in a dangerous situation. The transfer, as negative charges channel toward the positive ones, produces lightning.

Ashlyn said, “My head hurts.”

“I feel tingly on my feet,” Emily stated.

“Maybe that’s why my back hurt,” I said.

Magically, our hair returned to normal as soon as we entered the screened porch. 

Only four year old Molly seemed unconcerned. The rest of us were thankful to be inside. Ashlyn thought we should go into the house. I believed we were fine but later discovered we should not have stayed on the covered patio. 

As bedtime approached, Anne decided they needed to leave for home. After hugs and kisses, I walked them to their car. 

Emily and Molly jumped into the in. Ashlyn stood by the door to wait for them to get situated. 

“Ashlyn, get in. Your hair is standing up. Hurry.”

“Hurry,” I said again as Anne secured Molly in her car seat.

My arms tingled and the hair rose. When they were all safe, I rushed back into the house. 

Google gave me more surprising but useful information. Pictures of brothers laughing at their wild hair. Soon after the picture was taken, one was struck by lightning. He survived with severe burns. A man nearby didn’t. The stories made me realize how fortunate we were.

After the girls were in bed, Anne called. Ashlyn still had a headache. Anne felt a stab of tingling pain too, but everyone was ok.

Further research revealed that headaches can be caused by the charges of electricity with lightning. Tingling and sharp pain were also side effects. 

Our weird experience at first brought laughter, then fear, and relief. It reminded us of the power and scope of lightning, which can be felt for five to ten miles. 

During our episode, there was no heavy rain, thunder, or visible lightning. How thankful we were for the warning signs that made us scurry to safety. 

Living in the lightning capital of the world makes everyone in Central Florida vulnerable to the ravages of a strike. It can appear out of a storm or a clear sky. 

Twice I have had my home hit. Lights, appliances, garage door opener, and surge protectors were damaged but no injuries. Many friends have too. 

Reminders. Don’t play games when a storm is approaching. Get off the beach. Stay away from tall trees. Get off the golf course and ballfields. Get out of the pool. Stay off landlines and away from sinks and showers. Don’t use technical devices outside. 

My family will be cautious when there is a threat of lightning. The experience taught us about dangerous invisible forces along with the visible ones. 

Reminders

A word aptly spoken is like apples of gold in settings of silver. Proverbs 25:15. NIV

My patio greenhouse brought endless memories. Friends from a long ago trip brought the flowering pink desert rose. Vibrant amaryllis, descended from a neighbor’s garden over twenty-five years ago, waved. Wandering Jew, clipped from a friend’s family legacy plant, cascaded from two pots. 

Ten orchid plants congregated on a table in the corner.  One plant was given to me as a welcome to the neighborhood at our previous home. A second plant came the day after my dad died along with a sympathetic hug. After moving to our new home, I divided my five plants into ten pots multiplying the beauty.

Four decorative planters held flourishing greenery from family and friends to comfort me after the death’s of my dad, Alan, and my mom. Peeking in from outside the screen, white and pink roses added color from memorial bushes for Alan.

Each gift had been precious, but I had never imagined the gathering of friends and family on my patio. Each morning when I meet God, they join me on the patio. When I sit at dusk and marvel at the beauty of the pink sky and serene lake, I am not alone. I remember their love and compassion. 

Every day I sense God’s constant presence. A delicate flower. A towering tree. A rippling lake. Joyful bird songs. Brilliant blue sky. Threatening clouds. All reminders that He cares and is near.

In our technology crazed world, relationships can suffer. Text messages, emails, and Facebook can be convenient and time saving. However, they shouldn’t replace one on one conversations, eye contact, and heart felt hugs. Cards and flowers send love.

I nurture my relationship with God by studying the Bible, reading devotionals, and conversing in prayer. I am also attempting to nurture human relationships through visits, conversations, and hand written notes. 

Dear Lord, help me to nurture special relationships. Thank you for those who have surrounded me with love and kindness. Amen

There is Sunshine in the Grief

May the grace and peace from God our Father and the Lord Jesus, the Anointed One, surround you. He is the Father of Compassion, the God of all comfort. He consoles us as we endure the pain and hardship of life so that we may draw from His comfort and share it with others in their own struggles. 2 Corinthians 1: 2-4  The Voice

Days of sorting through vintage pictures, looking at old slides, viewing albums with wrinkled photos. Discovering family history from newspaper clippings, obituaries, and letters. 

Surprises in the findings. I laughed and cried. Closed in my house with the memories brought back the grief. 

Obituaries testified to many losses. Grandparents, uncles, aunts, a cousin. All left behind grieving loved ones. I felt regret. Until I faced my own grief, I never knew the extent of theirs. I didn’t do enough to comfort those left behind.  

To get away from the sadness, I left home to visit a new friend who just entered hospice care. In her room, grief overcame me again. Memories of my parents in hospital beds. Alan with oxygen. Their frailty matched hers.

Even in her weakened state, she hugged me and comforted me. What a blessing she was.

At home on my patio, I watched the sky dim. Gentle rain peppered the lake. My tears joined the flow. 

For days, I had stopped them to mask my grief. But built up emotions overflowed. At dusk, they came freely. 

The mirrored lake quieted me. Surprise beams of sunlight glowed on the landscape across the water. A rainbow arch crowned the trees. Cardinals whistled. Frogs croaked. 

God’s presence wrapped my grieving heart. In my sadness, He provided a touch of healing light. 

Father, thank you for providing a hug and kind words through your people. Your creation offers comfort and healing. Amen