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Normally, I write about how I am feeling. I write about the joys and sorrows of the day. My writing helps to keep me healthy--mentally, physically and spiritually. I write to mend my soul and spirit. This time I felt so poorly I couldn't write.
For God, who said, "Let light shine out of darkness," made his light shine in our hearts to give us the light of the knowledge of God's glory displayed in the face of Christ. But we have this treasure in jars of clay to show that this all-surpassing power is from God and not from us. 2 Corinthians 4:6-7
My writing fingers are becoming untied. The healing process begins, but this time I suspect the journey may be longer. Different symptoms. Other illness(es) so far undiagnosed? I do not know.
Below is some of the writing that got me writing again. I am humbled to publish this, polished or not. The asterisks indicate where parts have been omitted to spare you the reading.
my old nemesis.
I should have heard you whisper
in my good, but aching ear:
"I am darkness your old friend,
I've come to bother you again.'
"Humph! I thought you were ignoring me
with your thankful-to-God ways."
"How could I ignore the migraine,
or the pain of skin, scalp and muscles
on the left side crying in pain
from the slightest touch?"
* * *
"Six weeks I've been ill.
One day I was well, functioning,
Carrying on with normal tasks.
Then, as if attacked from behind,
I had headache, earache, fatigue,
nausea, dizziness, vomiting."
"I did get your attention!
I am Darkness, your old friend.
I've come to talk with you again."
"You are not my friend!
You, Darkness, are making me sick.
I don't want to talk with you!"
"May I remind you.
Nothing happened "out of the blue."
I've been following you for years.
Downsizing. Selling the home you loved.
Packing moving--not once,
But three times in three years!"
"Landlord #1 wanted too much lordship.
All we wanted was our own space
where we could carve out a comfortable home
for our family and friends.
Instead this became a discomfort zone
Where my husband would become ill.
* * *
"Don't you remember?
Life wasn't the same after that.
Yes, you moved again,
But life would never go back to the way it was.
Did you take time to grieve the loss of life
As you had known it?"
* * *
"Place #2 and then Place #3 appeared.
We saw an ad in the local paper.
"Would it hurt to look? We actually liked it
It has character. A small raised garden.
Room for the kids and grand ones to stay over.
Our adult kids helped us move. Again.
Pack. Move. Unpack. Settle in. Repeat."
"You sound defensive, my dear.
What about your almost-twin sister, Joan?
Her years of Alzheimer's--you suffered with her.
She moved to a residence.
She was diagnosed with 4th stage lung cancer.
You suffered with her."
* * *
"So joyful was I for her that I didn't acknowledge
how much I would miss her. Three years later,
when depression strikes again, I realize her loss
all the more.
Until we meet again, Joan."
My story may help others realize they are not alone in their suffering, be it depression, loss of one kind or another, or pain, but that is not my job. God can work through my physical or mental weakness, my weakness of faith, my sorrow when I share my story and leave it in His hands. If God can use my story for mending one other person, the glory is His. I may never know. Nor do I need to know.
"But God choses the foolish things of the world to shame the wise; God chose the weak things of the world to shame the strong. God chose the lowly things of this world and the despised things--and the things that are not--to nullify the things that are, so that no one may boast before him. 1 Corinthians 1:27-29 NIV
For some time, I have appreciated the hymn Earthen Vessels by John Foley, 1975.
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This is a good place for me to conclude my story about "writing as mending." I had original planned to write this for May 10th, but I was not ready to write anything at that time. I pray that God will continue to shine His light on my darkness and on any darkness you may have as well, my readers.