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The Twenty third Psalm part two

by | Oct 3, 2013 | Uncategorized

I am not afraid
when you walk at my side.
(perfect love casts out fear 1st John 4:18)
Your trusty shepherd’s crook
makes me feel secure. 
(In this context the shepherd tended, protected and guarded the flock. The crook of the stick was very helpful in moving the sheep in the right direction, to fight off a predator or rescue one who was tangled in brush)
 You serve me a six-course dinner
 right in front of my enemies.
(you provide substance for me)
You revive my drooping head;
(you give hope when I feel hopeless)
 my cup brims with blessing.
(you give me encouragement)
 Your beauty and love chase after me
 every day of my life.
(oh that we would know and remember his love for us)
I’m back home in the house of God
 for the rest of my life.
(Let us go to the house of the Lord Psalm 122:1)
I will never leave the safety of his presence.

The twenty third psalm

by | Oct 1, 2013 | Uncategorized

“The Lord is my shepherd;
I have all that I need.
He lets me rest in green meadows; 
He leads me beside peaceful streams.
He renews my strength.”
(Psalm 23:1-3a)

1-3 
God, my shepherd!
    I don’t need a thing.
You have bedded me down in lush meadows,
    you find me quiet pools to drink from.
True to your word,
    you let me catch my breath
    and send me in the right direction.
Even when the way goes through
    Death Valley,
I’m not afraid when you walk at my side.

He asked me

by | Sep 30, 2013 | Uncategorized

I remember him asking me:
“what do you want on your gate? what do you like?”
I said to him, “I love roses and angels.”
He didn’t think he could make an angel but he did make a rose trellis…
and I will treasure it always.
From dad.  

Remembering a little more

by | Sep 29, 2013 | Uncategorized

Before we arrived at the care home where mom lives
we had shared about our ‘need’ to have a small service for dad.
Mostly for mom but it would be good for us too.
Dad didn’t want a formal service and it always feels weird and unfinished with out anything.
We decided to ask her if she would feel comfortable with that idea and she agreed.
With all of us down the hall into her bedroom/sitting room we began to share a few words about dad.
In her quiet voice she mentioned that it feels very strange now to not have him around anymore.
He was always holding her hands and keeping her close by him.
It was for him a mixture of love, control and protection so she would remain safe.
We shared a little and laughed a little and asked her if she was sad.
Then we began to sing a few songs.
The ones that dad would know and love and also the ones she would remember.
Tears fell as the voices sang,”I come to the garden” along with “Amazing Grace” then adding “this little light of mine” and “Jesus loves me.” The voices continued with “Jesus loves the little children.”
The only few things missing from the room were a guitar and dad.
The service was short and simple but I do believe she enjoyed it.
It is hard when a loved one passes from us.
We remember so much on so many levels at different times of the day and hour. Grief cannot be rushed or hurried.
It is a process and it takes time.

He created and made this pretty gate but this is not where he is going to be laid to rest.
It was a choice of his and that will be honored.
A service of closure always leads us to a lifetime of remembering.
The good and not so much the bad.
It is pointless to remember bad things about someone now gone.
We had a service and tears were shed.
We closed the door on this chapter of our lives.
Our dad is gone now and we say good bye to a ‘man’ of many talents.
He lead a colorful life and we believe that only he would know the stories that haven’t been told.
Our dad is gone now and we move on one day at a time.
It does feel strange to not have him sitting in the room with us.
We miss him. Remember him and know he is in a better place.

My heart is heavy at times

by | Sep 28, 2013 | Uncategorized

A week ago I was in my bed warm with covers wrapped around me.
Not in a deep sleep but a sleep that was both comfortable and restless.
You know the kind I am talking about where your spirit is unsettled.
I remember the phone ringing and the deep sinking feeling that something must be wrong.
Always when you receive a call early in the morning you know right away it might not be a good call.
It wasn’t.
The voice on the phone telling me they were sorry but my dad was gone.
The pain in my heart was immediate but the tears were walled off.
I laid there curled up in a ball after hanging up the phone.
The conversation repeating itself in my head as I shared the news with my husband.
I had seen dad five days before and was planning on going back up to see him again.
He just couldn’t hold on any longer.
Revisiting the conversation with the vet when I took my cat in earlier this month, when he said to me,
“she will die at home if you don’t do anything now”.
She had congestive heart failure too.
My dad passed away we think in his sleep.
That is a peaceful way to leave and not as horrible as we thought it would be.
Someone with his complications struggle and suffer in a terrible way.
We don’t think he did.
I am peaceful about our visits although I didn’t talk much to him I believe he knew I was there and he knew I loved him.
My dad left us a week ago.
When we see our mom now his chair is empty.
The oxygen tank and tubes missing and the pill bottles put away.
It is strange and a bit surreal.
The heart knows the depth of sadness and loss and it also realizes he is in a better place now and he is comfortable.
It is just hard I mean really hard to say “my dad passed away and I won’t ever get the chance to share matters of the heart with him.”
Sometimes my heart is heavy and I catch myself feeling the weight of too many losses in a short amount of time.
We lost my husbands dad in May so this year has been a series of losses.
A week ago we said good bye to a dad who was special in many ways.
We will never meet someone like him ever and we will never forget him.
Good bye dad… you were loved deeply.