My love of blogs and all things "bloggy" has led me to meet several cool people via Internet. One of them had this very funny (and apropo) picture on her blog today! I laughed out loud when I saw it, but because I am married to a man who has lived in all places, I have to be careful when saying something like that. I do not mean to offend!
It leads me to think about being Southern and Southern phrases, traditions and foods. Grits, for instance. I cannot even imagine not liking them....but how about not even tasting them? The fact that some folks have never met a "grit" in their lives might just take me to the sad place. And who was the first to utter the phrase "Bless her/his/their heart{s}?" Was it meant tongue in cheek, as we say it so often today? As for me, it just trips off my tongue for many different instances. And I use it as much in reference to myself as anyone else!
Bless my heart....and bless yours too!
I never even realized that I had breathing shallowly. The truth is, looking back over the past fourteen months...during Mama's diagnosis, treatment and passing into Eternal Life.....I can't remember breathing at all. During one of her last days in hospice care, Mama and I had a conversation about my family of four going to the beach house where we've always stayed. ...same as always. I stayed there with Mama and Daddy as a teenager, young adult, newly married, new first time parent, then second time parent. My children have never known anything else. Except this year, unless God worked a miracle, Mama wouldn't be going with us to the beach.
I wasn't even sure she had heard me; the pain medications were sedating her. Oh but hear me, she did and she opened her eyes, smiled a huge smile and told me that she thought it was a wonderful idea. Then she said, "I'll always be close by there." Well, God ushered Mama into His presence on February 15, 2012 and I somehow functioned on autopilot until last week when we came to the house..."our" beach place. Honestly, I had been dreading it. I was scared it would be too painful, too empty. Well, I should have said bless my own heart! The very minute I walked in the door, I took a deep breath in and out and realized how good it felt. So I did it again. And again. I haven't stopped breathing deeply for this entire week. I have not had a "mystical" experience, nor do I feel catapulted into complete healing. But I do feel calmer, more peaceful, more of God's presence and more able to hear Him. One thing about grief: you surely can't hurry it along at all.
There is so much life happening now; so much breathing. I don't want to forget anything and so I write. And give thanks to my Jesus for allowing me to start seeing the life again.
"How can I, your servant talk with you, my lord? My strength is gone and I can hardly breathe." Daniel 10:17 (NIV)
"And with that, He {Jesus} breathed on them and said, "Receive the Holy Spirit." John 20:22 (NIV)
