A Warehouse of Memories in a Shadow

I was going through things in my parents basement last month and I found an old journal from November 1999, a month shy of my 18th birthday.  I cringed as I recognized the cover- "Uh, those days" was my thought exactly.  I knew what I was getting into when I picked up that white and green marble notebook.  As I flipped through the pages I found myself letting out a smile.  My smile was not a reflection of fond words written about great times at the beach, happiness surrounding my family, proud moments on the soccer field or silly sleepovers with friends.  Don't misunderstand me, I experienced all of those things- I cherish those memories; they molded Me.  But these journal entries exposed a side to me that I didn't let the closest of friends or family members know.  The journal entries were rittled with lonliness, frustration, anger, inferiority, and anxiety.  It doesn't sound like the warm and fuzzies that would bring a smile to one's face, huh?  The essense of this smile was more a recognition of freedom; "I got through that.  It wasn't neat or clean or pretty, but I've made it through"  I now know that during that time in my life I suffered from an undiagnosed sickness.  I was sick in my soul, I was void of the type of love that gives one hope; self-love.  And despite my snub at religion or God or a higher order, one night at my desk I had a desperation for relief that gave way to this poem.

SHADOW

There's a shadow following me, it's making me nervous

Everywhere I turn, everywhere I run it's beside me,

What is it's purpose?

When I play on the beach, it plays too

Even when I sleep, it does what I do

I've tried to outsmart it, but it's no use

I can't get away, I can't break loose

I've tried to hide in a dark cold place

But when I emerge out of my hell, again it's in my face

Everytime I try to stomp on it, it eludes my foot

It looks blacker than death and darker than soot

Out of anger and frustration I yell, "Why are you following me? Leave me alone!"

I won't welcome you here, find your own home

But tonight when I wept I saw it weep too

It shed tears that fell like the morning dew

Without a sound it spoke to me

The words more piercing than a thousand stinging bees

I finally realized what I had been trying to dismiss

It was the Lords healing, touch, and kiss

For so long I've been blinded by the impurities and temptations of hell, like fog in the night

I've only made it through because of the Lord's sight

So many times I've fallen short in his eyes

But everytime he's always been by my side

What a fool I've been to look the other way

I tried to pretend I was happy with how I lived each day

Straight faced, steady voiced, into his eyes I have lied

I am sorry, Lord, and I thank you for always being the shadow by my side

Life's Beam Curves for a Reason

More will be Revealed, but Only When I'm Ready
You know, I'm not sure what sparks my need to put thoughts and feelings on paper. Moreover, I'm not sure what makes me want to share them. I guess it's the egocentric part of me that thinks others give a damn about what I have to say. The other part of me thinks that reading my rambling thoughts and twisted logic can help someone else who has experienced loss and grief find comfort and feel normal. Either way, I've realized that, at the root of it, I have a need to capture my world for those I love and leave behind.

My family has endured three deaths in the past 9 months; my Uncle Gordon, my Uncle Bill, and my Dad. Those of you who know me, know that family history, legacies, stories, adventures, and personalities have been a strong force in my upbringing. A root that I love to honor and will do all

I can to protect. For if I do not nurture and protect these taproots, the distance my family or myself reach at the tips of our branches cannot be understood nor appreciated. So, once again I find myself getting back into "blogging". Bridging the gap since my last entry (2 years) can be summed up in one word; transformation.

Change would be too vauge, too cliche for the things that I've wittnessed, experienced, endured, and embraced. But transformation- that word to me embodies a process. And a process, albiet, each one unique, has gone in every aspect of my life; in my family life, my marriage, my spirit, my personal goals, my professional goals, my parenting goals.