While backs bend and tears fall
Though the ground breaks and wind damages
And as forehead wrinkles and a shoulder droops
While a lap remains empty and a lost one mourned
In the midst of fear and in the darkness alone
Though cancer may spread and the pain sear
Will I have the faith to say?
So, too, will the peace spread
So, too, will the will to live emerge
So, too, will new life be born
So, too, will the healing come
So, too, will the love and grace of God prevail.
Juanita Beach in the evening
I’m hoping I follow the rules to this award well as I feel very honored to have been nominated for The Very Inspirational Award by http://brooklynbystander.wordpress.com/ who I can’t thank enough for.
I accept this award humbly and accept the challenge that goes with it and that is to continue to inspire and pour forth words of encouragement and joy.
Here are my nominations for this award: How they get them I’m not quite sure, but I chose these people:
As you see, I’ve got several more to add, but I wanted to post this to acknowledge the award.
thanks again to my nominator http://brooklynbystander.wordpress.com/
I’ve actually felt quite homeless of late; and I ask myself, “Am I a nomad?”
I never conceived of living this kind of life, I had always wanted to live in one home, one place, and near friends and family.
But, the reality, my reality? I have lived in many homes and a total of 6 states and am today living far and away from anywhere I used to think of as home.
I’ve tried to look at the positive sides to my reality: the many people I’ve enjoyed knowing, the many cultures I’ve been exposed to, the different physical features of our beautiful country. All this has been good and wonderful, but there’s another side to my life. The cost of moving has been high for all of us, indeed.
Moving has taken away from life as much it has added.
From the biggest heartbreak of missing my son to the most insignificant loss of missing a particular appliance. Moving has both shaped us and scarred us.
Self-inflicted wounds can heals slow when infected.
I Ask why?, why? why I have done what I’ve done and the answer is like one shouting in a cavern, a returned somber echo. The answer lies buried, not wishing to be unearthed.
Bloom where you’re planted is what I’ve been counseled, begin anew. I’m familiar with the process. However, seeds require good soil to take root and I’ve yet to plant, I’ve yet to choose the seed. I’ve yet to find the store.
I then paused and reasoned:
I’ve got it all wrong. I’m not the planter, I’m the seed. I’m not equipped to handle a shovel to dig a hole, for I am the seed.
I’m a seed left adrift in the sea and I’m waiting for the tide to roll.
I seek the light, a beacon, an anchor, and hope that I’m floating in the right direction as I long for home, but the time isn’t yet. I drift for a reason, and also for a season.
I don’t have a favorite state, nor at present a destination.
Home for me is my family, the precious one’s God has blessed me with. The man I married and the children we bore. We are forever bound to each other. Our love for one another transcends this earth. Our love for each other is deep and eternal.
Today, Mother’s Day, I’m grateful to have three children who are fantastically wonderful individuals that I’ve gotten the pleasure to raise and love.