OCTOBER 3, 2017
#peace #tranquility #love #light #hope #healing
Funeral lessons were drawn from both Testaments.
From the Old Testament, Psalm 121:1-2
“I will lift up my eyes to the hills
From whence comes my help?
My help comes from the Lord…”
A Song of Ascent, which continues to be quite the personal message, considering Jeff’s emphatic announcement that my baptism one year before his death was more important to him than our wedding day.
When he said, “Now, I know you’ll be alright,” he meant my place in our Father’s house would be secured.
Not premonitious; just a declaration of peacefulness. Jeff reveled in the calm that my soul was safely held and would be accounted for in heaven. The greatest of gifts.
It’s taken me a few years to appreciate this is the eternal promise that kept me going strong through the first few years.
It’s taken me a few more years to admit I have loosened my grip, lost my hold: effectively muted the joy. Despite that, here I am. With barely any effort on my part, still going forward.
The thing is, I’m ready to revise, now. Just about everything. I want to begin again. Embrace what needs renewal.
2008, down 118 pounds. 2020, I’ve gained 12 back, slowly.
It’s easy to break it into bites that please my palate. That’s only a pound a year!
Except I am now further out away from what should have continued. You see, I wasn’t done. 30 more to go is now 42.
It’s also easy to declare this is what I want. The hard part is action; required.
Then, there’s trying to do too much. Or too much to do, so, not trying.
I know what I must do. I always know what I must do.
There’s really only one way through. But, to take that path….
First things first: reclaim the calm.
Quote for the Week:
It’s hard to pray for what you don’t want.
It’s even harder when your prayer is answered.
Last week, I lost a hard to define person: part of my life, sort of relative, adoptive 3rd mom, friend.
About 6 years ago, on another platform, in another format, I published an article about alternate gift giving. The information was drawn from many sources, links provided, and sent out into cyber-space. The result of that was a slip of paper she gifted me. It has been magnetized to my wisdom board since that Christmas.
Over the years, I have noted little slips of wisdom on the refrigerator in the home she and her husband shared. A home that I was welcomed into. Reluctant to go the first time, my two-years past Jeff mantra was, “I don’t do other people’s families at holidays.” It doesn’t matter where you’re sitting, it’s extremely uncomfortable being the “extra” at any table.
Especially so, with Jeff’s family. Let me emphasize: I was always sincerely invited, always happily welcomed. My perception of me and my place in the family was skewed by insecurities. My interpretation of the situation was that my arrival at any Korte family function was an awkward beacon of sad; a glaring, strobe reminder that Jeff was no longer there.
However, at the insistence of my brother and sister-in-law, I agreed to tag along to their family gathering. It wasn’t any easier than going to Jeff’s families’ holidays. The only difference was that I felt more like a solitary lighthouse of alone. None of them were strangers to me; I’d known them all before Jeff. They represent the before and the after Jeff, which sometimes makes the missing middle seem that much further away.
Over the last ten years of holidays, birthdays, anniversaries, sport days, funeral and no-reason days, I merged into the unit quite permanently. The slip I noticed Sunday, has likely been there for a while.
Judging by the placement, it was positioned purposefully while she was still able to do it, herself. I took a clandestine picture, with the plan of posting in my home and have decided to share it with you. It is a perfect, logical, statement of fact, which I choose to interpret with her deep, implied beliefs – adding my own, silent, faith-filled addendum … “for now.”
Quote for the Week:
I write. I’ve always owned the question, “Why?” and avoided the questioning, “Why Not?”
There is a line of fear that I have not crossed and may never cross, either. The line exists solely due to a carefully balanced imaginary scale I believe will undoubtedly tilt my expression toward obligation or enjoyment.
It’s not always enjoyable. It’s easier sometimes than others. Drawing blanks is sometimes an issue. Deciding what comes next, what should come next constantly wars. True time telling lends logic to the story. Topically timely stories in tune with the season or current events bring bits of the past to current focus and perhaps make more of an impact then straight-forward biography. I’ve only recently recognized it’s just not straight-forward.
I can’t call my documentation a hobby because it is not always enjoyable. Always enjoyable seems to me to lack in purpose and nothing is created without an end-user in mind. Artists create for expression – it’s our process for making our thoughts and feelings known. We know how we feel. Our projects convey messages open to interpretation. No one creates to be misunderstood, and we can only hope they get it right.
It’s not an obligation because no one is demanding or commanding I must. I seek self-challenge. On my own terms. Unfortunately, imposing a non-challenge on me is a lot like expecting pudding to cling to a mirror. I’ll slide away. Regrettably, leaving little bits of me behind.
I acknowledge this: My perfection obsession has dwindled. My aim and style and candidness has surely evolved over 485 weeks. I’m no longer writing snippet excerpts. I’m no longer dryly paragraphing, ‘this is what happened.’ I’m imparting values, occasionally offering wisdom, attempting to cross-weave of all our lives.
Quote for the week:
Enjoy This Week’s Discovery Links:
Who is: Dr. Andrew Weil?