Even in Our Sleep

Even in our sleep, pain which cannot forget falls drop by drop upon the heart until in our own despair , against our will comes wisdom through the awful grace of God. Aeschylus

Sleep is my welcome escape and yesterday was one of those days I retreated to it; two naps and an anticipated bedtime.But sleep does not always grant me the escape I desire.A few weeks ago Frank on Blue Bloods recited this Aeschylus quote. Oh how true I find this to be. I have nights where the pain shows up drop by drop somethimes in a flood that nearly overwhelms me. Last night was one such night. My dear friend Ruth who so lovingly attended to my early pain(water closet office, red cross slippers,and so much more) was in my dream administering her wisdom and compassion. Ruth walks her own grief path these days and I hold her in my heart this morning. I struggled a bit with the processing of my dream and considered not getting up. I have another entire thread for an entry about the not getting up , not returning from my wood road walks , never getting out of my morning bath but maybe I'll tackle that another day. I got up and in scrolling FB I came upon wisdom from another trusted and respected source; author, friend Sheree Fitch. She stated that  gratitude  saves us from despair.Despair, our own despair; a condition we all find ourselves and must  repeatedly pull ourselves out of.Against our will comes wisdom. So the snippet of wisdom I was given in last night's dream will add to the snippets  I've received in the past. Much of that wisdom is relearned daily through that awful but powerful grace of God. So my grateful heart takes in the sunshine, gazes at the budding trees and the beautiful yellow of my blossoming forsythia, marvels at this another day  

I'

ve been given, quiets the fear and sorrow of last night's pain and puts both feet firmly on the floor.

On the Periphery

 Heidi, Heather, Lisa, Jolene, Aaron, Emily,Kristen, Sean, Alanna, Tom, Joey,Greg,Jamie, John,  Joanne, Lillian,Dawn, Frank, Gina,Corrie, Joy, Peter. On this day of our loss we remember and circle the periphery of a deep and unfathomable pain knowing the depth of it is more than anyone can truly grasp.We love you and miss you Zac. And Paige got her bunnies.

Familiar Grief

 I wake this morning so thankful for the sunshine I see streaming through the window. I wake so thankful for the day ahead , a day I can stay home and a day I hope to write many new words. I woke from a dream that left me with the title of today's blog. In the dream I realized I had become familar with grief , used to a loss that was like a constant companion. In the dream I was told that Gladys was in a trailer in the parking lot of the nursing home where she lived her last couple of years. I was told I should be visiting her there and that she was alone and never saw anyone. I wondered why she was there and hadn't been allowed to stay in her room at the nursing home so she would have people around. In the same jumbled dream it became Zac in the trailer and I felt so guilty that I hadn't regularly gone to see him thinking if I had I might have been able to get him back home. Strange dream leaving me with the question of familiar grief. I have been thinking a lot in the last few days of the families who are approaching the first anniversary of the horrendous Nova Scotia shootings of last April. I can only imagine the pain and suffering the loved ones left behind have endured this past year. I hold each one in my prayers.I  can extract no profound  wisdom from my dream but I do understand how grief becomes a part of who we are and I still marvel at the fact we can stumble our way through it. No choice really except the choice to see the sunshine, allow joy to accompany sorrow and keep putting our feet on the floor each morning and carrying on. 

 

Just Like Food and Medicine

 It is a rather dreary Easter Monday. My morning has been slow and demands are low. I have provided room service to my two sleepover granddaughters, I've washed eggs, written in my journal of course and looked back at Easter last year and the year before. Regular morning things that make up so many of my days. It occured to me the other day on my wood road walk how predictable my walk regime is. I begin with petitions, prayers and requests of sorts that mirror the concerns of the day. I begin that lineup with thoughts of putting my oxygen mask on first, breathing and believing that I must be all right before I can do anything else.  I thought how repetitive my petitions are. I thought perhaps saying them over and over and going through the same motions every day might be undermining any belief I have in a higher power that hears my prayers. The words 'pray without ceasing' came to mind. I thought of young children asking for something and how it seems more effective if they ask over and over. Then I thought of food and how it is required daily  and medicine that is taken repeatedly until it is no longer necessary.So why not prayers and petitions and the very routine that feeds my soul day in and day out; waiting for answer to prayer , for respite, for a calm acceptance and for the deep assurance that whatever I am given strength and grace will accompany it. Several days ago my eyes were somehow cast on a  particular tree in the foreground of hundreds of trees . In the white oval  patch on the  trunk of that tree I saw my son's name.I do not know if it was carved there.Perhaps he himself took a  tool and  etched  his name  twenty some years ago, or someone else on this same walk stopped and  holding him in their heart scratched the letters of his name. Or maybe nature, time and the tree's natural growth split the bark in the exact configuration of the three letters spelling my oldest son's name. It doesn't really matter. What matters is that I came upon it excactly when I did and for me it was a gift , a connection and a place to  stop and ponder on my daily walks. And these wood road walks are as nuturing as food and as healing as medicine.