On Missing People

This is not an original thought, I'm sure, but when I was running just a little while ago,  I realized the poignancy of being in human in this respect: we are able to miss things before they're gone--the love of your life before they say good night to leave you, a child before he is fully grown, and a parent before he dies. 

We were created to dread separation, crave unity and kinship, and long to share life.

I am missing some people. Some are already gone, and some are in the process of going. I miss them all. Sometimes, it all looks hopeless.

"But if we already have what we hope for, there is no need to keep on hoping. 25 However, we hope for something we have not yet seen, and we patiently wait for it. 26 In certain ways we are weak, but the Spirit is here to help us. For example, when we don’t know what to pray for, the Spirit prays for us in ways that cannot be put into words.27 All of our thoughts are known to God. He can understand what is in the mind of the Spirit, as the Spirit prays for God’s people. 28 We know that God is always at work for the good of everyone who loves him.[d]" ~ The Book of Romans

I am grieving, but not without hope. If I knew the ending of the story, there would be no call for faith or hope, and those are beautiful things you don't want to miss out on in this life. 

"Maybe it's not about the happy ending. Maybe it's about the story." I have hope for a happy ending. But I have faith for a great story. Holding on, holding on. 

Blog Clog And How Blogging Changes after 50

Every night when my head hits the pillow, I think about moments from my day that I'd like to record for "someday" when my organic memory is gone. There will come a time when I'll need to read about my days in order to enjoy those meaningful pauses in my life again. And maybe my grandchildren would enjoy the details, too.

But I hit a blogging snag a couple of years ago and just can't get past it.

I've fallen, and I can't get up.

It's a blog clog.

Every day, I start composing posts in my thoughts such as:

Once upon a time, there was a pregnant woman who had nowhere to go

and no one who cared about her and her twins, so we took her into our home.

Or

I'm in the long, tender process of saying goodbye to my parents.

Or

My child has had a child. I am a grandmother. 

Or

Once upon a time, I had three children whom I mothered ... adequately.

Then they grew up and moved away. I miss their voices and faces so much

that it's hard to look at pictures of our family from those years. 

But I don't get past those initial thoughts. 

These are BIG topics to tackle, and emotions wash in and out like ocean waves. Some waves are gentle, some are scary, melancholy, or bubbly (like the pic on the left)--delightful. 

Forward and backward, forward and backward, one recedes, comes another. The waves always bring in little treasures and take away little treasures. Sometimes I raise my head to the horizon, but I always feel the waves lapping at my ankles and shins, reminding me that everything is changing right under me. I can feel it. 

So I'm going to write about the little treasures that flow in and flow out. Maybe if I narrow things down, I can approach them and put them down for someday. 

But today, all I can do is write generally about the flow and change. Sometimes I'm just speechless. And that is when there is nothing to do but let the waves wash over me.