We’re all healing…

I’m healing from more than I’d realized. When I take the time to acknowledge my pain it rolls in at the most inconvenient moments. Maybe its time I just let it be…trying to pretend it’s not there and that all has been forgotten for the sake of moving along hasn’t cooled its sting.

I think if we’re all honest, most everyone is healing in some way…physical, emotional or even spiritual. Maybe life’s “work” is mostly a lot of healing and growth. I heard it said once that life is about “suffering.” I wasn’t real crazy about that statement, although there may be a fragment of truth to it.

“Suffering” doesn’t have to cancel out all the joy, the blissful moments and the carefree days. I believe the “suffering” only increases their preciousness and value.

I’ve noticed quite a bit of time lapsed between my last blog post and this one. I haven’t given up writing, however. I just temporarily paused sharing publicly through blogging. I’ve never stopped keeping a journal. Journaling has been an outlet for me for years. So many times I’ve wanted to blog about some things I was going through thinking maybe someone else could find some encouragement or comradery through my sharing. But, I’d sit at the keyboard overanalyzing how I was setting myself up to be either misunderstood or judged harshly. So, for the past couple years I’ve allowed the inner critic to shut me down. I suppose I could say I feel silenced. Maybe I just need to spend some time healing from the things I truly need to write about. I’ll get to it…eventually. When I work up the courage to face the negativity trolls and snickering onlookers. If you only knew how many “drafts” were saved on this blog yet unpublished! Its rather pitiful, actually.

My family and I have decided to join the 52 Hikes Challenge. For me its not only a great excuse to get outdoors, but also part of my healing journey. I intend to take some of these hikes alone. As a busy momma, I need some quiet to hear myself think. Sometimes, I just need to clear some space to know what’s really at the root of why I’m feeling a certain way. I suppose I could even say I’ve lost my creative focus. At times, I’ve even felt “shelved” in life. It’s almost as if I turned that certain age and the world said “step aside, old girl…time’s up! Your expiration date has left you stale and uninspiring!” Ugh and Bleh! Don’t even get me started on that feeling. That’s a whole other blog post subject just waiting to vent.

David Powell, a Western Kentucky weathercaster, posted this on Facebook recently:

“Sometimes healing consists of sitting in coffee shops and writing the years from your mind. Sometimes healing is laughing until you cry, its kissing your friend’s faces and being moved and inspired by your life. And sometimes, healing is rest, it is hiding from the world, it is having everything inside of you be still and quiet and eerily bare. Sometimes healing feels like nothing at all, like you are a silhouette of hope and hurt at the same time. Do not fight it. Whatever your healing looks like today, whatever it consists of—just allow it to be what it is. Just take care of yourself and trust God.”

Are you in a season of healing? If so, how are you going about it? No matter how, I pray that you know the One who can heal you best. Lean into the Peace that comes from knowing the Heavenly Father.

“He heals the brokenhearted and bandages their wounds.”(Psalm 147:3)

My soul, bless the Lord, and all that is within me, bless his holy name. My soul, bless the Lord, and do not forget all his benefits. He forgives all your iniquities; he heals all your diseases. He redeems your life from the Pit; he crowns you with faithful love and compassion. He satisfies you with good thigs; your youth is renewed like the eagle.” (Psalm 103:1-5)

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Dinner at the Cemetery

Sometimes I visit our local cemetery. No funeral. No genealogy research. Just for putting things into perspective I suppose. I knew more than a few of those laid to rest here. My grandparents, uncles, a cousin, community members. Many here I’ve researched or placed in my family tree branches- Herron’s, Hobgoods, Ramsey’s, Townsend’s and more. I have even unearthed long forgotten secrets and family dramas written down and tucked away in a crackled file at the genealogical office.  IMG_3896 (2)

I ate my dinner at the cemetery this evening, my dog beside me waiting for his share between bites. My grandparents final resting place to my left, a peaceful, somber and sad reminder that in the end we will all come to this. I miss them both…maybe even more than the years they died. My grandfather passed away when I was fourteen. His was the first death that taught me the fragility and transience of our earthly lives. His death was the first where I witnessed grown adults sob. It was my earliest memory of my parent’s and grandmother crying. His untimely death was the first I’d heard a grownup wail, cry aloud to God, “why?!”

My grandmother lived on another 19 years after my grandfather passed. For the majority of those years she was independent. Her life was filled with the busyness and joy of children, grandchildren and great grandchildren. The ache left in my heart due to her passing away was never healed by time. As I grow older and apparently more like her each year, I think of so many things I would have loved to ask. I have an even greater need for her wisdom now that I’ve passed the 50 year mark. So much about her I miss. Her chicken and dumplings, the pies…the loving way she dropped everything to spend time with me. Her family was her world. Most of all, I miss how she always had just the right thing to say to me. She got me…understood my heart in a way only a grandmother can.  IMG_3899

I look out across the many headstones and wonder about all those precious lives who left behind someone who’s still missing their smiles, laughter, their own unique spot in the family. Many are buried here and enough time has passed that no one is left to miss them. They’ve become names, dates, simply entries on someone’s Tree or a file on Ancestry.com.

I suppose it’s achieving half century status that really starts one to assessing their time already spent on earth and beginning to think of ways to make the most of what might be left. Proverbial or not, it’s true how time flies.

I can’t help but wonder what will be missed about myself when I die. I’m pretty sure it won’t be my chicken and dumplings, although they’re good enough. Will it be how I made them feel special and cherished like my dearly missed grandmother did me? I hope so. What will be forgotten and what will be remembered? Will I leave a legacy of love behind? Hopefully. Will my cherished loved ones truly know how much I loved them? 

Processed with MOLDIV

Processed with MOLDIV

“Yahweh, let me know my end, and what is the measure of my days; let me know how fleeting my life is.” (Psalm 39:4)

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