Tag:Nearest Book

O.K. I’ll play the game, and by the way, I feel honored to be asked

The nearest book at my desk is one I had carried downstairs to put away after I had read it again for the third time. The Jesus I Never Knew. This is the book that made me a Phillip Yancy fan. I’ve read most of his books, but this is by far my favorite; but after all look at the subject matter. He describes a Jesus I would be challenged by meeting, which I think is the exact effect he is supposed to have on us.

The chapter this excerpt comes from is on Jesus’ Sermon on the Mount, and teachings on the Beatitudes. He ends the segment on the particular beatitude–"Blessed are the peacemakers…Blessed are those who are persecuted for the sake of righteousness." referring to the time in 1989 when many of the nations in Eastern Europe used non-violent means to stop the oppression of Communism:

In many of these places, especially the nations of Eastern Europe, the Christian church led the way. Protesters marched through the streets carrying candles, singing hymns, and praying. As in Joshua’s day, the walls came tumbling down.

I remember those days, when “the Wall” came tumbling down. It was so exciting, to see people chipping away at it, huge portions falling away, the reunions of families who hadn’t seen each other in years. The joy, tears, the hope! Am I aging myself? You bet. Some times were definitely worth living through.
I can't tag five, but I'll tag Shiuvaun I KNOW she has a book on her desk, it will just be WHICH ONE!!

Visiting

Nina left this morning. Shiuvaun came a few weeks ago. Two friends who when they found out that Mother had passed away, called and said, “I’m coming to see you.” We made plans and sure enough they did.
I have friends that “visit” with me. I have other friends who don’t live close enough to come and visit, but have made that effort to call me and chat for a long enough period of time, I’m sure their phone bills reflect their sacrifice in time—but I appreciate it so much.
In the southern vernacular where I grew up, it wasn’t referred to as “talking”—i.e. “We are talking right now.”—it was ‘visiting’ with someone. You went over to visit someone on Sun. afternoon after church, or you had someone come and visit. There is a difference between talking and visiting. Talking is communication through verbal encounter, visiting can be talking, but is also being present in someone’s life, and maybe you talk, maybe you don’t, maybe you are there for moral support and comfort, without uttering a word. That is a visit. That is what my friends do for me. We talk about anything and everything. Or we just sit and be quiet, just savoring the presence of the others company.
Shiuvaun and Nina are two of my “oldest” (meaning length of time I’ve known them), and dearest friends.
We have a history, but it doesn’t matter how long it has been since we’ve seen each other, we pick back up, and take off, like we have never been apart, and yet because we are apart, we appreciate every minute we are together.
Our histories are familiar and comforting to us and the present is a gift, and the future, not something we take for granted.
Their visits during the past month, have been like a breath of fresh air. I don’t think they will either one know how much it helped me, and boosted me, and encouraged me.
It is funny what an afternoon, or evening or a “sleepover” with a friend can do for ones moral. I feel cared about by someone besides my family (don’t get me wrong I love that, but it is "family"). This is different, this is someone who just likes me enough to make a sacrifice in time to come and spend time with me, to help me over a difficult time, of missing someone else in my life; what special people they are! Thank you ladies!

Friends with thoughts

I added an "element" to my blog today, Favorite Blogs. These are two young ladies whom I have known since they were quite short, perhaps newborn. I find thier thoughts provoking, and encouraging, and stimulating, and silly (yes some of those Serenity, have made me laugh out loud, THANK YOU!!)and thoughtful.
They are deemed in my opinion worth reading. They will inspire, and give you a new way to think, on a positive and encouraging note, something the world needs in abundance.
Check them out and enjoy, and then go to Ungrind-I don't know her at all, and stumbled on the site quite by accident, but am enjoying the perspective there as well.
Enjoy!

Normal?

What is normal?
I have asked myself this several times in the last 24 hours.
Two weeks ago yesterday my mother died, and for some reason yesterday I was missing her terribly. Perhaps it was because it was a Friday--a dialysis day. Perhaps it was because life is returning to a time where the routine should resume, but it hasn't. The influx of family has left, I am not getting phone calls several times a day from one of my sisters (don't get me wrong, I love that), I don't get sympathy cards in the mail everyday now, and I have most of the boxes of things from her apt. stashed away.
But I had a hard time yesterday. I didn't want to get out of bed yesterday morning, I don't know how long I could have slept, but I'm pretty sure it would have been a record breaker, and when I did get up it "felt" like a dialysis day. I kept looking at the clock-almost 10, need to go get Mother--Nope. After crying on an off all morning, and trying to get my mind off of it, and on something else, I decided to run into town to take care of some errands. Basically just find something to keep me busy. I killed a lot of time visiting with a friend I hadn't seen in over a year, catching up, but of course the topic of Mothers death came up, condolenses were offered, and there it was again.
Finally, I finished, and headed home, crying as I went. As I stopped at the mail box to get the mail there was a card from a close family friend who had known my mother all her life, the poem read-

You'll never forget your Mother's face,
the sound of her voice,
the gentleness of her touch....
they let you know you were loved.

You'll never forget the stories she told,
the traditions she handed down....
they let you know who you are.

You'll never forget
the lessons she taught,
the things she stood for...
they are her gift and your legacy.

You'll never forger,
and you'll always know
that you honor her every day
in how you live
and who you are.

In her written comments she addressed the very issue I was dealing with, continueing life without the daily physical presence of my Mother. That was it exactly! The physical makes a huge difference, so I must shift to a different kind of presence--the presence of memory. It reminded me of all the things I still have from my mother. So when I look at her picture and if I sit and listen long enough, I can still hear the sound of her voice.
It isn't "normal" of old, but it will be the new "normal" for now.