Lasting Art
Some days are just a stream of chaos. Yesterday was a struggle. I couldn’t keep my mind focused on the good things in life. My concentration lacked control. I felt like crying at any given moment. I shook off the urge to fall apart as I was working an eight hour day. Straining to keep my chin up and be grateful for life, I pushed through until the drive home. Then, I cried silently in my car as I listened to my audio book, https://lauraschroff.com The Invisible Thread. It reminded me to appreciate the little things in life amidst the chaos we cannot control. Even among hard days, there are moments that are truly worth smiling about. Don’t allow life to beat you down. Pick yourself up, dust off the depression, frustration and ugliness life sometimes throws at you, and know there is a God who loves you and is shaping you to be all that you can be. He cares about the “yucky” in life as much as He does the beautiful. He will use those ashes of grief, loneliness, and even the ugliness of anger to create lasting art…His art…YOU! Don’t give up; keep fighting…you are worth it.
Lost but Not Forgotten
Melvin closed his eyes as he tried to recall the details. His family was desperately seeking to hear his wartime stories before they were lost, which seemed almost daily with his dementia stealing his once laser-focused mind.
“The attic stairs creaked as you carefully placed your feet on each narrow step. The tiny closet doors were the perfect hiding place should one hear footsteps of the enemy. The mortar was chipping away from between the stacked stone of the exterior wall. Sometimes we would write down our true feelings of the war and place the notes in the crevices not knowing if they’d ever be found. The fireplace chimney leaned as if wondering which side of the country to support. Brother against brother…both believing in their reasons for freedom.”
The last few words had been muffled and slurred as Melvin drifted into sleep once more. Oftentimes we wondered when the pain of remembrance would make sleep permanent. But for now our family was thankful to add a few more scattered thoughts to the family heritage album. (This is a fictional start of a story based on personal experience with this disease)
Dementia and Alzheimers begin to fragment the mind. So much history will be lost if we do not record the memories these individuals have trouble recalling. The details may be few but the rich stories that lie buried need to be transcribed so future generations can know and understand and most importantly, appreciate our ancestors and the lives they led.
As someone who has lost a parent to dementia, it is a painful journey. As you watch them slowly slip away, it does not ease the grief when they finally pass from this life. It is literally losing them twice. My grief has been a long journey with many valleys, but my mama always taught me to give back in any way you can because it helps heal the pain. So know that someone understands and cares how you might be feeling. Without the Lord, I could not be surviving because I would have no hope. Because of Him, I can face another day, knowing I will see my precious mama again…on the other side of tomorrow.
Grief…brittle hope
The leaves of autumn did not bring their normal respite to my soul. I lost my precious mama in October of 2020. Grief has never felt so empty and yet I am not without hope because of my God. As I stood on the path we walked each visit, the leaves fallen and brittle, my heart dug deep to the love my mama gave. Life will never be the same but she is at peace with God, and I will see her again…on the other side of my tomorrow.
Loneliness stirs
Weakening my already brittle spirit
Heaviness settles
Pressing down on my broken heart
Thanksgiving begins
Bearing pain beneath the tears
Happiness grieves
Making way to new memories
But for today, my soul simply remembers
Poetry of Rain
I noticed the young girl standing on the porch watching the rain pouring down. Unsure of whether I should approach her and disrupt her solitude, I took the risk and sauntered nonchalantly up to the steps. When I reached her, I caught the soothing sound of poetry being quoted beneath the splatter of raindrops.
“Who wrote those beautiful words,” I asked?
“Just a girl I know,” she stated quietly.
“She must be quite the writer,” I replied.
“Really? You really think so?” I mean, “yes, maybe, I don’t know…” as she quickly dropped her head.
As I walked away, I could see her beaming with a glint of hope in her eyes. Instantly, it confirmed for me that she had written those words moments before while contemplating why life often felt meaningless.
Esperance
An eerie silence filled the empty streets as Trish stared out her highrise apartment. The days had slipped into weeks with no end in sight to the government order of social distancing. Trish never considered a pandemic during her lifetime. But here she was, facing the unknown and praying her life and the lives of her loved ones would be spared.
Spring allergins were surfacing in droves as the flowering trees and shrubs at least provided color and esperance to an otherwise dismal situation. The sunshine flooded the livingroom as she daydreamed of the summer vacation she had planned in France. Everything was on hold for now until some more evidence was learned about the duration of this deadly disease.
Trish recalled verse after verse of her Sunday school teachings regarding giving God His rightful place in society. Even she had gotten comfortable in the day to day mundane activities. She tried to fit church into her schedule but it seemed things were always getting in the way. Now with churches closed for services, it seemed she was praying more than ever.
Esperance – of French origin, meaning hope
We are living in strange times but one thing remains the same…our hope can only be found in Christ Jesus. He is still sovereign, and He is waiting for our time. Isn’t that what we have all been saying for years? “If I just had more hours in the day…” Now we have uncharted amounts of time. What will you choose to do with yours?