Building

When a city is destroyed, if there are inhabitants left in that city, they build. They have to. We were not created to live and abide in death and destruction but to pass through. Death is not the end. So we build. How will we build though? Will the materials be the same? Who will build with us and for what purpose? In the beginning just lifting up one piece at a time is all we can do. The task it's self being so daunting. Build, reflect, rest and sometimes breakdown. Breakdown because this has to be done at all. Breakdown because this building will never replace what was lost. It will, however protect what is still alive. So be careful how you build. We build a city with walls. Walls that keep things in and keep things out.

At the Root

There is a root of bitterness that bores into the pit of the stomach

It provides the illusion of power and time

Power, because we believe we can control the destructiveness of its silent rage

Time, because we are deceived into believing we have plenty

This root harbors questions that may never be answered

It is home to regret and secret shame

The power of this root shields us from the full brunt of pain and heart ache, so we give place

An illusion of strength, but inside it bores away at all the qualities that bring forth life

Qualities such as hope, forgiveness, reconciliation, faith, and true healing

This wicked root silently secreting its poison into the core of our being, moment by moment, day by day

Until, we no longer recognize ourselves.

In this time of losing there is an illusion that we are in control

So we don’t fight when we should

We silence the voice we were given to combat this darkness

Speak, Speak, Speak

Speak Life

Forgive quickly, hope in tomorrow, believe in miracles, and never give up!

#Jaidynsvoice

Continue

With so many things uncertain my thoughts wander

They walk in times past and speak of yesteryear's

Life was not without adversity then, but the pain seems like that of an old movie

I watch this movie with no sound and it cuts in and out

I can see myself crying in the shower and pleading to God

Now I sit about to clock into a time suspended in restlessness and doubting

A time of loneliness and fear

There will be times I tell myself that I can do this

Utter words of strength and encouragement

And there will be moments of hopelessness

Either way I will continue

I have to
#Jaidynsvoice

One More Moment

We foolishly believe we know the brokenness of a heart and the heaviness of a soul. Then in a moment that we cannot rewind the picture snaps into focus. Reminding again that life is precious and that some moments are so fleeting and others seem never ending. I don’t believe I have all the answers by any means. I am, however, acquainted with my own frailty and faults. I have been told again life is but a vapor. It seems so short…Always. We beg for more time. We beg for one more moment. But because there is no reverse, neither is there a forward we move and live in this present grief. “It is better to go to the house of mourning, than to go to the house of feasting: for that is the end of all men; and the living will lay it to his heart” (Ecclesiastes 7:2). I know that the lesson is not supposed to be regret and shame, for the product of those is crippling and only breeds more death. When my son was hit by a car I dealt with an array of emotions, but it also changed me. I try to be aware of how I drive, especially, at corners. I try to make eye contact. I try to give what I wish my son was given. I look in both directions because in a moment…lives are changed forever. 

Image of you

I see you still

In little faces

In frozen images

In my mind

In my dreams

I see your eyes peering back at me through our children

I wonder if they can see you reflected back at them

Your image like the wave of the sea

Coming into view and then pulling back again

Always there

In my memory

In my regrets

In my hopes for our children

Like the hand of an old clock, your face moves back and forth continuously

Not feeling entitled to grieve like others

Not wanting to injure others with my sorrow

So inside it stays

In images

In tears that tip toe in the dark

Telling my heart to whisper and use it’s inside voice so as to not disturb the world

What we want and What we say we want

What if I crawled up in a ball and laid in the room?

What would happen?

Your box staring back at me.

Your earthly remains held together by a clear plastic bag.

What am I being held together by?

Today my heart is flooded with the sound of old worship songs.

Songs that made us cry. Songs that softened our hearts and brought us to our knees.

You finally reached the end of the broken road you tread upon.

You cried telling me you had nothing. I asked you what you wanted. You said undergarments and clothes that fit. Plain t-shirts you said. Of course I thought.

I went to buy you all the things You said you wanted and I knew you would like. I even found the socks you talked about.

You didn’t get to wear all that I bought you before He called you home.

They sat folded on your dresser.

Now they belong to our oldest son.

I hope you liked them.

What a thing to think about right?

The things we say we want and the things we really want can be entirely different can’t they? Yeah, they can.

Thoughts...

3/23/16

Thoughts…

“Blanca, you need to come home. I believe my brother just passed away.”

The phone call that sent my heart racing. The day had finally come. The moment I would have to face my greatest fear. I felt the breath leave my lungs and I couldn’t find it again. It was gone. It went with him perhaps. Not the breath that keeps me alive, but the one that kept us together. Knitted here on Earth. It separated from my being. No longer to be defiled by my unfaithfulness and cruelty. No longer to be saturated with my inability to understand why all this had to happen at all. Always confused to why it had to be this way. Withal I had given for years upon years I was left with all I had withheld. But that is the state of man isn’t it? Either degrading our efforts or giving ourselves too much credit. How prideful we are. Believing we are in control or retain time in our grasp. It is like when an insect flies about your head. You determine to catch the little pest in your hand. You reach, swing, palm open and clinch! It’s gone. Surely you have prevailed. You slowly open your hand only to discover an empty palm. In all that we determine to do and all we reached out to clinch, time continues to pass. People continue to walk toward the grave. Are we actually spending our lives distracting ourselves from this fact? One day I will know as I am known. All these questions will be answered. For you my friend there is no more wondering.