Being married to me

Must be tough being married to me

A kiss can turn into a nightmare, intimacy much worse

When the beast of illness rears its ugly head

And convulsive episodes ensue and last and last . . .

You never really know when

Some sweetness will turn to black

Your affections will turn to caretaking

Yielding another failed remedy instead of a back rub . . .

No partner by your side

Others asking about the phantom wife

Does she really exist out there somewhere

Or is it just on paper and within her cage of the home?

She cooks alright and keeps the house afloat

But complains every time you call

Of this dire affliction or that when he’s at work

Helpless, other-directed, and burdened under the strain . . .

Months turned into years

As life tried to move on so we

Try to celebrate this or that, have a nice meal

Only to have her collapse at the kitchen table again . . .

He has gotten stronger

From carrying her burdened frame

To the toilet, the bed, the couch, off the floor

Rolling her over in bed, lifting her up to drink . . .

He has had to adjust to this abnormalcy of life

Never mentioning it unless another asks

For the pain of the story isn’t worth the awkward moment

A thousand times told, untold a bit later . . .

Tis the Lord’s will

The believer in Christ must contend

Yet are we not commanded to fight

For good, for answers, for more faith when tears flow?

Altogether lovely

He remains strong

Goes to work and play

To cope with the madness . . .

She waits at home

What choice does she have?

Her calling different from his

Or is it when bound by love?

There is no right way

To navigate a life gone off the rails

Except to breathe daily in prayer

When being married to me.  JJ

Into the clearing as the storm wanes

Psalm, Psalm 107:29, waves, Bible, storm, Jesus, calms the sea, hope, trials

The coming day after the darkest of nights

May be the one that redeems, the one where at last there is light.

Never a guarantee accompanies each sunrise

That moments later I will live and breathe without compromise.

The seizing of my being, the cries of despair

Have gone on too long little Julie:  even my bigger self can no longer repair,

The damage, the trauma, yes that goes beyond me

My Lord holds those tears that fill the seas of this earthly iniquity.

But one day I will be whole as He promised, oh yes He did

Joy replacing all the sorrow and where life will be just right, just as He said.

If next week brings some answers then so be it too

I do have wee bits of hope for some sleep now leaves me more rested, anew.

My brain can handle more of the stuff of life these days

With the exception of the medical provider’s drama where I have to focus the way.

I shall trust in my Savior whether or not we achieve the goal

Even if the storm inside wanes incomplete, in my spirit I shall always remain whole.

For my Jesus made me just as I am:  Just Julie, your friend

And you too Gentle Reader:  in His image welcome at His table now and til the end.

Won’t you dine in His presence with me unto glory eternally(?)

If we but believe the heavenly realms shall always be in the clearing for us to see!

**************

Yes, Ima gonna hang in there a little longer . . . You do too, k?  JJ

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Waiting

Like an iris corm sleeping beneath the chilled earth

I, too, wait for my moment to emerge from below.

Weathered by icy snow, or warms-n-thaws that heave me so

My countenance strains under the stress despite a Divine plan.

When I stopped asking, “why?” I was left with less hope not more

For my search for meaning had brought me forward to face another day.

No answers have come, few bigger prayers have become reality

Yet my Lord has carried us with His unending love and care just the same.

We are going to make it to a better place one day, don’t you see?

The one where no tears carry the day and all is lovely and good.

Until then I wait or drag myself up after torments in the night, the day

Shall all thus make the happy ending sweeter one glorious day soon.  JJ

varigated iris, hope beyond, Christian, iris, inspiration, garden, meaning, gardening, metaphor, poetry

 

You not Me

If my eyes can gaze upon you not me

To care, to serve, to pray, to worry some

Then maybe my burdens will soften a bit

For I have fixed my angst off my tender frame.

If I can plan my day to give more away

My time, talent, and resources to you not me

For a new challenge that maybe stretches me a bit

Then we shall both emerge stronger when tomorrow comes.

For what good is a man if he gains the whole world

And weakens his soul by burying it deep in self-pity

When we can travel together for awhile

You and I, carrying your bags then you lifting mine.

Seems like a better deal dontcha think

For the moments when I do return home to rest, to reflect

Will find new meaning in what it means to live

When the Lord dwelling in my heart spills over to you.

He is the One Who makes all these things possible

These ups, these downs, these trips veering off that away

We must but trust in His gracious plan, every detail

As He is the reason for you, for me, for glory and goodness too.

The Awakening

No plant reacts instantly to a brief change in conditions. But a change that persists is an invitation to wake up.  (From the Dirt Simple blog.)

Lately I am finding myself in a place in my world that brings me to a humbling yet screeching halt.  I ask:  what has happened to the me I once knew and where the heck did I land?  The Lord knows the journey that has transpired; the witnesses have varying accounts of this or that as well.  But it is the markers in time, the events out of the ordinary that bring the changes to light, that clarify what is actually seen.  Let’s see if I can explain a bit more about what is going on over here as one of those episodes hit me hard . . .

Three days ago the daily seizure attacks that I have suffered for 5 years ramped up to over SIX HOURS PER DAY.  One day these were all in a row, virtually without ceasing until the wee hours of the morning.  The next day I got a divided dose of 3 1/2 hours in the morning then an encore of SIX MORE HOURS in the evening!  I cannot even describe to you the mental and physical anguish this brings.  Time stops.  A single breath, one then the next, is the only measure in my mind of the clock of life ticking forward.  Difficult decisions got made between my beloved and I resulting in his cancelled trip getting replaced with the sights and sounds of another hospital emergency room.  The drug they gave me helped.  Miraculously, the convulsive spikes are but a blip here and there for now.

I have had over a day now to contemplate what life might be like to be normal again.  Indeed the pain has gone down some, the brain fog got less misty, and my ability to move improved.  So I completed a small garden project yesterday and walked our dog this evening.  I think that the ER Doctors who have told me that this illness isn’t biological are dead wrong.  Stop the seizing and I don’t need a psychiatrist to tell me to get back into life.  I don’t need convincing.  It just happens! 

There is much to figure out right now.  Will I get to work on more treatment like taking down viral infections?  How long will I stay on the new medication that could hurt me if it was too long?  What will I really do with my life should this process of healing continue?  I am hopeful again and that is good.  Alas it is poetic that these changes should occur as the earth warms from the cold of Winter outside.  Unlike the plants that are either remaining dormant out there or are testing their new growth with some surges in our Spring-like weather lately, I will wait to wake up all the way.  In the meantime maybe I can do some good with this wee bit o’ energy.  After all, there is no rushing a beautiful awakening to a new life.

Five years is a long time to have been asleep.

I bought a new truck like my Dad’s just 5 days before a kayaking trip changed my life forever.  I got sick from the water.  I don’t know why I told you that.  It’s been a long detour.  Now things are changing wildly.  Maybe the new beginning will need to involve a little road trip in my sweet ride?  To the nursery just out of town of course.  They sell bags of shredded pine bark compost that should fortify our garden vegetable beds nicely.

See what I mean?  It’s already happening . . .

JJ

garden dog, German shepherd, grass, sleeping, pet, pup, sneaky, dog

Elle awaits the awakening . . .