Bogged

Hey there, dear friends. I have had a lot going lately from VBS skits to welcoming a new pastor, facing renewed and new frustrations…

And I find myself…weary. Whereas there should be joy in some of those things, I find it there, but only for the moment it takes for raindrops to fleck and fade on glass.

And the frustrations are just…a lot of unwanted visitors who return again and again. I could voice my thoughts on such, and yet…

It begins to feel without any real use. I hate to term it “jaded”, but, it’s certainly edging into that territory.

And so…I go quiet.

Tight-lipped over how I really feel.

Stop all the confiding, any attempts at exhorting others, since it feels disingenuous, or seeking encouragement, since I can’t seem to allow it in the way I should.

Until…

It all bursts forth in poem eventually.😏

Now, I don’t think of this as my best attempt, and, please don’t take offense, but I am beginning to feel even this place, my beloved WordPress, is not necessarily the help it once was.

Not due to any of you, of course. This is all me.

My quiet spells and lack of concentration to keep up with everyone here are increasing, which does give me a pang of regret, as I care sincerely for each of you.

Not to mention fatigue. Realllly tired of arriving at this mindset again and again.πŸ™„

The determination not to wipe out my work here remains strong.

But the desire to write and participate is…waning.

And I don’t really want it to.

Yet…I feel it slipping out of my hands this time.

Anyway…enough spiel. Here is my latest thoughts in poem. Thanks for reading. Blessings and prayers as ever.❀

So many things to write in my brain…

Big beginnings without an end….

They rise up only to be sent

Down the proverbial drain…

Had some triumphs in these weeks,

Some lovely things of which I feel I ought rightly to speak.

Had a few mighty blows, too,

Disappointment and unsettling discoveries anew,

But sadness from such has only burrowed on through,

Tunneling in deep.

Smiles I cannot seem to keep,

But nor can I summon up theΒ  strength to weep…

No…instead, my eyes only dim with need of sleep.

I guess you could safely say

That I am trapped in once again by

This indescribable malaise,

This tiring, bogged-in-the-reeds sensation,

Like the African Queen, only without yet a summation.

It isn’t as if love is not there,

Nor joy-

In fact, I have lately had a good share.

And, of course, I know that God is always, always there.

Yet, I face some unhappy truths

Of pain, loss of energy, loss of youth.

I find despite all efforts to push on

I just don’t feel like much from dawn to dawn.

I still pick up my Bible and read with a prayerful heart,

Of more things I have pressed myself to take part,

Yet all I gain seems to fade before I can even start.

Hurt aplenty piles in,

Poor feelings I fear I nurse.

I have to ask-is this mire just my own sin,

And lack of ability to bravely take on the worse?

I don’t know.

I don’t know, and I tire of asking myself…

Perhaps it’s time all these ponderings

Be laid upon the shelf…

Please take them, Lord

And draw us into better accord…

What’s it All About?

Hey, there, dear friends. More stops on the midlife crisis express. Buckle up. πŸ™‚

The above is the last page from my memoir. Can’t believe I actually dug it out after all this time, opened it up, and actually gave you a glimpse. But, it’s kind of significant to this present circumstance, so…

Anyway…

I wrote that bit about 5 years ago. Ok. Probably closer to 6 or so, when you add the year of shuffling my ambitious thoughts one publisher to the next.

I read it now and it’s just…wow. There was a nice little pocket of hope back there. I forgot I had it in me.

Like this:

Greater things have yet to come. Greater things are still to be done. This is only the beginning.”

And:

“Be well and be blessed right where you are for who you are.

Oh, pithy phrases, yes. Somewhere within is still a touch of delight in the flow of the words, honestly.

And, really, it’s nothing I don’t still believe, deep down.

Yet…I look at them now and, frankly, feel a little foolish for all I have to admit I was dreaming then versus where I now sit…

Which is on a secondhand couch with a cover that doesn’t fit quite right in a house yet unfinished.😏

Countless heartaches yet unfinished.

A life…yet…unfinished.

There was a lot more I wanted to be doing now, if I am being honest.

I wanted to be that polished, well-heeled author/speaker, going from one place to the next sharing all the knowledge He’d given me.

Advocating for my autistic beauties.

Reminding others of His truth, His grace, His providence.

(Not to be crass, but seeking a chunk of that providence and, perhaps, even that oft-elusive thing called financial security through fees and sells.)

I had been on the stage for years, after all. I could kind of, sort of public speak.

I’d played everything from a busybody mom (Father of the Bride) to an early 1900’s murderess (A Rose for Emily).

I even got our high school’s version of an Oscar ( coined the Larrys) for supporting actress once.

It was exhilirating and freeing to be up there playing pretend, particularly for one whose confidence had been so diminished over the years by abuse.

( And, yes, part of me wishes I had pictures to show you, too. But, there are a lot of things on the road to divorce from your high school sweetheart/acting partner- one of which is the disposal of artifacts related to your time together. )

At any rate, with that resume, I could potentially sell myself accomplished, right?

Even if, even if…I didn’t feel it all the time?

Or, really, hardly ever? 😏

Ummm…it turns out, no.

For, I discovered the hard way, as most things with me have had to be discovered, that playing a little old lady exposed for poisoning her lover’s lemonade and exposing my own vulnerabilities are much, much different.

For one is a performance and the other is just…not.

The other is life.

My life.

A life, granted, I can call redeemed in Jesus.

Hallelujah for that!

But, still a life I felt protective over.

Still feel protective over.

With kids and events and hurts and joys I felt and still feel protective over.

Things….not for sale.

I quickly found I just could not get up there and share it with anybody.

Nor could I sit smiling behind a tower of fresh books and “hawk my wares”.

Literal agony!

So, as is my tendency when faced with agony, I shut down and dashed away, flinging aside any regrets for the sake of safety.

There weren’t a ton of offers, or something, but I did beg off some opportunities and sure didn’t go pursuing any new ones after I realized how out of my wheelhouse it all was.

It was not long till the faint buzz calmed in this little town and beyond.

And not much after that that it went silent altogether.

So…now, 5 years later, here I am.

Still facing down the same pack of insecurities, if not more.

I have my things I do, my cookies I bake, my youth I talk with and counsel a bit.

Yet, overall, I find myself in further retreat than ever.

And maybe, just maybe, nursing some regrets that got imbedded in spite of my cross-country run away from expectations.

I hate to pull out the word “failure”.

It gives me such an unpleasant, sour feeling in the pit of my stomach.

And people invariably chide me for using it.

But, for all intents and purposes, according to a lot of standards, that is the word that suits me just now.

For, I ventured out in something big, picturing one thing, and it did not, in fact, become that at all.

It failed.

I failed.

Oh, it’s all right. I need no comfort as I put those words out there.

It’s just an unfortunate necessity as I ponder my life.

Where it’s been, where He wants to take it.

And, in all this midlife crisisy mumbo jumbo I have been serving up so often lately, I have to keep asking myself one key question:

“What’s it all about?”

Writing, sharing, life….

It’s a weighty question, but a worthy one.

For, if my end aim is only to make myself feel good for a while about myself, then it’s all for naught.

A flash-in-the-pan sensation at best.

Such a feeling will never satisfy. Not even worth messing with.

But, if this pursuit is truly about honoring Him with what He has given me alone to honor Him with, then…. it’s invaluable.

For, despite how I let the world and my own massive doubts rail against me some days-too many days,

It really, truly matters not what others think of my offering or what becomes of it.

After all, no deficiencies-real or imagined- can remain where one gives purely of one’s heart to the Father.

The past cannot truly define, the present cannot truly disappoint, and the future cannot truly discourage where His truth exists…

Now, I have to chuckle at myself a bit here as I just looked back on that page once more.

A few sentences above the other quotes I shared, I also said this:

“For the message isn’t how to be a success way down the road or how to be a success at all.”

And a few phrases down, just before the “be blessed” bit:

“Don’t look too far back and don’t strain too far ahead”.

Ahem. Well, then, Lord. Using my own words to set me right, huh?

He has a real way with that….πŸ™‚

You know, all this, and I still have not a notion really what He has for me next, but I am learning, with His patient reminders, not to fret on it.

Ok. So, thanks for riding along with me a ways, dear friends. I pray wherever you find yourselves at, you are feeling His presence guiding you into all He has for you. Blessings! ❀

Wrestling

Still abiding in His wings, though I do rather chafe as this current circumstance in my writing goes on. I find myself wrestling for every word and fighting the shadow that saves me. Not to mention weary of posting here on depression. 😏 Some for myself, but also, yes, because the old fear of wearying someone else too much for them to stick around lurks within me yet. But, then, there are the other depressed souls that might just need to recognize themselves here. At any rate, He called me to honesty, so better that I remain in it…

Here I run to His river again,

In my hand my trusty pen.

And I turn my gaze to watery

Inspiration,

Seeking in my reflection therein

Some sort of summation,

Something that feels of worth,

Stirs of my spiritual rebirth.

Yet…full expression remains a

Struggle, my friends.

I keep scribbling thoughts and

Striving as I know I ought

Only to sweep them to the trash bin.

For I don’t want to just make this

Venture all

A mere means to a hollow end…

So…I keep trying to stretch these

Kinked muscles

Of my literary prowess

But in the midst of the world’s mad

Hustle,

I find thoughts dissipate and myself

Bowing to the infinite less.

I know that I know that I know

God is yet on His throne.

And I come there and cry out for Him

To show

What He has for me alone…

“God,” I whine, “I thought I was

Inching back.

I thought ‘on we go’,

And the words would flow

And I would be done with

This present lack!”

Yet…truth, friends?

These rubbery limbs of mine

Are only fumbling to now and again

Have the former knack.

So…do I just fling the pen aside?

I have thought of it, I confide.

For the last thing I want to become

Is just a sorry case of a writer’s sore

Pride.

Yet…I know the Lord’s tender,

Whispered voice

Cautions me to

Just. Lie. Still.

And further reminds me there is yet

Another, better choice,

A more lasting way to fulfill….

To let go and let Him take the words’

Often unwieldy reins.

For, honestly, it is nothing less than

Absurd

To wrestle the heavenly shadow

Meant only to heal and to sustain…

Blessings and prayers, dear friends! Struggling or not so much, may you find comfort in His shadow. ❀

Wherever the Road

Hey, dear friends. Wanted to be back to some in-depth writing. Didn’t want this to be a prolonged break…but, looks like it will be. I just can’t seem to summon up anything but the dreariness I have been facing…and this space isn’t intended to be about that. It’s in the byline-It’s not about me. It’s about Him.

So…all this to say this honest little bit of poetry is my final piece to you- for a while. I hope to come back down the road a ways.

Thank you for your love, prayers, and concern. Know I hold the same for you in my heart.

I can’t do this anymore…

At least, not for quite a while.

Not packing up exactly,

Not erasing these efforts as in days past

Nor leaving an empty store.

To that determination I’m holding fast.

Just…can’t keep coming here right now

With my dialed-in smile.

Feels like any could spot it as a fake

For half a mile.

Nor can I keep comfortably coming,

Wagging this laundry bag of sorrow

And try to claim it’ll be scrubbed

Bright for the morrow.

Right now…it’s just not.

And I am caught

Without a pretty phrase left to my coffers.

No ready cheer, no heady offers.

So…it’s silence for the time being.

Not sure how long

Nor what this round of solitude will bring.

All I do know is that

I know Jesus is wherever the road takes me.

All I can rest in is that He never forsakes me…

And so He never forsakes any of us.

Until such a time as I feel He’s calling me back to this space…

Thanks for reading. Blessings and prayers to you, dear friends. ❀

My Storymaker

Just some pontificating on my unfortunate tendency to attempt control over my little world, as framed through a writer’s perspective. Ironically, I wrestled a fair bit with pinning down the phrases for this one. Kept getting lost in the words. πŸ™‚

My Storymaker

Ah, my life-it often feels a long series,

One stumbly chapter to the next,

Where emotion both swells and

Wearies.

And the writer in me queries-

How best to play out a story

So complex?

Well, as I amass the content of my

Days

And lay them all upon my lap,

I fall quite handily into my own

Control freakish ways

And never quite see the trap. 😏

For, in the desire to possess said

Control,

I must confess

It’s largely about this for which I am

Equal parts cursed and blessed:

Words. Glorious words.

How I love to weave them-

From the poignant to the absurd.

Words! Glorious words to aspire

Toward,

Thereby propelling

Forward my intricate plans,

Thoughts of relinquishing authorship

Rarely occuring, compelling in me

The stress of trying to arrange things

Strand by painstaking strand. 😏

And so, I pick up the narrator’s pen

With relish,

Ready to begin, to tweak and to

Embellish.

Fresh page flipped open…

How shall I tell my tale?

How shall my life’s lines today

Unveil?

I sometimes think I know.

So I go to scribble down thoughts’

Shape

And only then do I note the troubles

That set in to grow…

Panic thumps my heart then,

As players and conversations away

From my hands spin.

Events take course in a direction

Wholly unintended.

And I feel all the worse for it-

Baffled, bereft, unfriended.

So…I attempt to crumple the errant

Papers of my existence,

Too spent to begin again with any

True sense.

Ah, but then comes the hand of my

Creator

To still my agitated own.

“Let Me, ” whispers the voice of He

Who is greater,

Smoothing out my wadded up life and

Reminding me I am not tinkering

Alone.

For, He is to be my Storymaker,

He points out with a Father’s

Smiling tenderness,

Lovingly showing me where I have

Gone remiss.

With kind shepherd’s crook

He causes me to pause and look

At what He has written for me,

Chastening me, yes, but oh-so-gently,

And hastening me to His side,

The very best narrative there could

Be!

And so I surrender my pen, my

Beloved control

And leave the wordcraft of my soul

Wholly over to Him…

It’s difficult many times, but may we indeed surrender control of the stories of our lives over to the Lord, knowing He has the very best in mind for each of us. Thanks for reading, dear friends! Much love, many blessings and prayers! ❀

Crafting Changes


Hello, my friends! It feels like another longish stretch since I have been here! I hope no one feels too neglected. Though my days have taken a different shape in some ways, my heart and my prayers are ever with you. ☺ Hoping this finds you well and seeking the Lord.

I am striving ever for that myself in the midst of crafting a new way to do school, but, I think I am due for some stark honesty here.

It’s funny, really…

Despite my longing to craft other things-to write, to inspire and to be inspired, I am finding it much more taxing to gather my words when I finally do find a moment.

Perhaps it’s just circumstantial.

Circumstances are admittedly…unorthodox, shall we say?- at this stage of our lives.

For all, of course, but, I think especially of us impromptu home schooling parents right now. πŸ˜‰

Now, I am in the somewhat unique position of being accustomed to the life of a relative recluse for a variety of reasons ranging from my physical struggles to my carefully guarded, incredibly introverted nature. πŸ˜’

Not to mention, frankly, long years of the instinctual limitations that often come of parenting special needs.

I do miss church in-person-even if I was frequently the quietest one in the place- as well as cooking for and listening to the banter of our youth group.

Not to mention the simplicity of just strolling into a store on one of my good days with a modicum of abandon.

I am also finding it a bit deflating currently that our technology is too old and creaky to participate in many of the neat things others are doing virtually, as well as the fact my pocketbook isn’t too giving for the updates (Yet, for our actual needs, what we possess suffices, so, I feel gratitude should have its way over such complaints, really. ).

And, much as I am adoring this gift of extended hours with my dear children, I do find moments of longing for the few quiet chunks of the day I had formerly possessed, naturally.

But, all that aside, I can really chuckle to myself that I was born to “stay at home” and scarcely needed an order to do so. πŸ˜‰

So…it isn’t truly these aspects draining me of creative juices. Not really.

Maybe…maybe it’s just time in of itself that has me thrown- paradoxical thing that it is.

Such a precious commodity.

So daunting yet interesting to be presented a drastic reordering of it.

I am cheering on those who are and praying others will be able to capture the silver lining gleaming in the clouds here.

Yet, it’s also consternating how oddly the hands of the clock move these days.

Meandering down unfamiliar paths yet still remaining swift as ever.

Routines upended and rearranged. Things to be let go of, new things to be embraced.

I have to say management in our family of all such has been remarkably blessed by God’s ever-guiding hand.

In any household, that’s something to rejoice in.

In an autism household? Truly miraculous.☺

We are poised for our last three weeks of school already and in pretty good stead with all that it entails.

Yet, all that it entails adds up to… well, an awful lot of this baffling time thing we speak of, leaving little room for expanding thoughts to the avenues once enjoyed.

Words have been fading away from something to skip in a field of flowers with.

Words, rather, have morphed into something to teach how to sound out and how to spell.

To write neatly on the line and to properly define.

Perhaps inserted into a bit of essay coaching for flavor.

Which can have its own brand of satisfaction-don’t get me wrong.

It’s a rare joy to shape my kids in this way.

But, delight in shaping words unto the Lord?

The thirst remains, but time seems to be sapping the wherewithal lately.

Even writing all this, my mind is so…back and forth. It’s not coming in the flurry of phrases that I typically enjoy.

This is certainly not the big revelation I hoped for in time away, nor the encouragement I wanted to be able to give.

But, then, the time away is not really the time away in the sense of sabbatical.

At least, not in traditional sense.

Ah, but He reminds-when was anything ever traditional with me? 😊

So…I am left with this, as I have ever been left with this in my very interior yet very demanding world…

Shaking off the whiny, first-world-woes and grabbing hold of God, where I can, as I can, surrendering to the fact He is resident Keeper of the times, even these seemingly crazy ones.

And I rest in knowing He is ever there, smiling down on me in His infinite love, whether I am crafting an intricate poem to Him or just a shiny aluminium foil robot costume with my youngest for art time. ☺

When our hearts are right, they each honor Him, after all.

I am so selective on sharing pictures of my kiddos. But this one begged to be shared. Literally. πŸ˜€

Blessings and prayers, dear friends!Appreciate the read! Keep resting in Him!

Still King

Hi, there, dear friends! On this Palm Sunday, I felt the urge to carve out at least a little time on here forΒ  one of my dearest loves-poetry.

I admit I haven’t been able to tinker around with it near as much as I’d like lately. But, it’s okay. It’s necessary. And life on the homeschool front does have its joys! Really does!

Yet, the fact is, life looks so…different right now. So simple yet somehow more complex-on a whole different plane.

We are all well in my household, praise God. Still, there is much upheaval, much uncertainty-that which I know most all of us are facing in one way or another.

But, now more than ever,Β  my heart mustΒ declare-Β this truth remains. Jesus is still Jesus…

 

 

Still King

Walls rise between.

Isolation becomes the theme.

At a time when we most crave the comfort

Of another human soul,

Sickness steals the effort;

Hands must still, relinquish all the control…

Oh, uncertainty!

That which lurks unrestfully in the morning breeze…

So easy it would be

To simply sink into this haunting anxiety,

Or numb ourselves to hopeless apathy.

As the news scrolls

The seemingly unending tolls

Where lies our heartsong?

Is it lost in the desperate, teeming throngs?

Where is that which in our utter weakness

Can make us ever strong?

Oh, not in ourselves by any means,

Despite the empty promises to which we cling…

No…those sort of actions are none but a smoke screen…

Here’s the realΒ thing.

Jesus is for once, for only, and still Β The King ofΒ Kings!

Not a wall can hold the truth

Of hosannas loudly echoing-

“Save us now! ” we cry.

And when we believe that He can,

This humble, this righteous King-

That He hasΒ 

For all time,

That is where we will find comfort

That can ever withstand.

And strength where distance exists not

As He holds us each in His capable hand….

 

Know that today and always, dear friends! Blessings and prayers to you! Appreciate the read! πŸ™‚β€

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Our Story (A Reblog)

Hi, friends! I know this is unusual for my posting schedule ( do I really have one? πŸ€”) and style, but there are times God sets a person or a story or both in your path that is a bit different yet so relatable, you simply must break with the usual to see where He wants to take you.

Sarah Walton is such a person with such a story.

From the pain of chronic illness to the struggle of raising special needs to the pinch of major financial need- and maintaining faith in the Lord all the while, this story echoes with amazing familiarity in my heart.

Firstly, if you are not following her blog, Set Apart, I highly recommend it!

I leave every post so blessed by the honesty and Godly wisdom.

Secondly, she and her husband, Jeff, have a wonderful-sounding book coming out shortly. I eagerly await the opportunity to read it! Follow the link to find out more…

https://wp.me/p5exjO-1B7

I know my reach is fairly small potatoes to the world’s eye, but I trust the Lord will help take this where it needs to go.

Prayers and blessings, dear friends! If you feel so led, pass the word on…