Notes From A Broken Heart

For weeks, even months, after Courtney died, I'd awaken in a darkened room and just lie there (like a bump on a log, Papa would say).  No thoughts (thankfully) pierced the darkness, just the thud of my heartbeat as I listened to my inhale and exhale.  Alive? Guess so.  So??? The rare mornings I mustered the energy from somewhere ( the fortitude of enslaved ancestors?) to sit up and swing my legs to the floor, exhaustion set in.  How long I'd sit there, shoulders hunched inward as if awaiting the next barrage,  I can't remember. I'd sit. An old wall poster that graced the Office of the President where I once worked, just flashed across the annals of my mind. It pictured a tall, three-legged stool that occupied its center, the focal point, really.  At its very top, the stool communicated "Sometimes I sits and thinks."  At the foot of the stool, it intoned, "And sometimes I just sits." That pronouncement marked grief-enshrouded, dismal days.  S

Unbidden and certainly unexpected,   Elvis lamented "I feel so lonely; I feel so lonely, I feel so lonely I could die." Me? Not really.  And anyway, where did that come from? Sheltering In Place? No.  I've stayed in for days and weeks at a time. What prompted this voice from yesteryear, intruding out of nowhere? Snow days, even blizzard-imposed shut-ins didn't faze me.  In fact, I've self-described as the "Happy Homebody." Then, what kind of loneliness is it? Of the heart, soul, or spirit? An absence of the Holy Spirit? No! Spirit eternally is.  He is "THE WHO I AM...This is my name forever, And this is my title for all generations" (Exodus 3:814a,15b).  Nothing negative ever comes from Him.   So, what accounts for the gap, the disconnect? Is it that I am not who I say I am? A relatively balanced woman who keeps pressing toward the mark which seems unreachable?  Do I change like a shimmering white birch leaf on a wind-blown day? Is

It looks different.   It feels different.  It acts differently.  Because it now lives in your home, your sanctuary. The three-alarm fire trucks can't get to your place fast enough! It, whatever it is, didn't matter so much when it occurred around the corner or in a neighboring state  Why? Could it be that criticism and cynicism are learned behaviors?  And so is selfishness, which if left unchecked, distorts thought and vision. It seems much easier to "see the speck that is in your brother's eye. but do not notice the log  that is in your own eye?" (Matthew 7:3).   Why can I be as tender as a Mother's love about my shortcomings but tougher-than-nails about a friend's or foe's?  Why? Truly. I. Don't.  Know.  Except it's easier to look outward than inward. I can brush the lint off another's clothing, especially if I know her only superficially or sporadically. The phenomenon, however, might fit into a long-held "theory" I n

"I don't feel no ways tired, I've come too far from where I started from. Nobody told me that the road would be easy, I don't believe He brought me this far to leave me." Bored? Yes, relegated to staring into fathomless space.  Tired? No. In truth, I yearn for a project I can sink my teeth into.   How aimless have I become? How much worse can it get? How much more will my world be turned topsy-turvy, helter-skelter? What do I expect in the aftermath of this pandemic I find myself mired in? When will it end? Do I feel like an inexperienced traveler (read, hitchhiker), stranded on a  moonless night in the middle of nowhere? Yet, I have come too far from where I started to curl up into a  fetal knot and do what? I've been tired over and over again, even when I didn't know whether the source of the fatigue matched the condition.  Juggling family, a long commute to work, and ensuring the family had clean clothes and nutritious meals principally k

Dear Sherry, Samson.  The name  fit perfectly and immediately transported me to my childhood Sunday School class of "Samson and Goliath.." "My goodness, he's big, enormous even," came out of my mouth before proper etiquette quelled it. "He's huge.  Is he friendly?" I had no intention of getting close enough to pet him since I've never been a cat person.  You assured me of Samson's gentleness and soothed my reluctance with the pronouncement that he operated on a "Live and let live" basis.  Thank goodness for that.  However, for some reason,  I inched a step closer and started talking to him, the speechifier that I am.  Samson slowly, deliberately turned toward my voice and stared. "May I  pet him?" You nodded. Still prattling, I gently rubbed his luxurious fur.  Unmoved, Samson waited on me to wind down and leave him alone. "He likes you," you nodded. Oh?" "If he didn't, S

Anne who? Anne Frank.  I don't have to wonder how she would respond to being quarantined, no imprisoned, in a tiny space, not for 30 or even 60 days but two years, while World War II swept her country.  I know what Anne Frank did.  The 14-year old Jewish girl chronicled her plight in The Diary of Anne Frank.   While we shelter-in-place, I recommend reading her frank (excuse the pun) insights into the plight two families faced. It's eye-opening and hair-raising. A former schoolteacher, I've read and taught the book many times, and each time  I marvel at the cruelty people inflict on each other.  And for the flimsiest of reasons.   Yes!   Superficial, insubstantial, and indefensible, war offers nothing to justify the carnage, destruction, and lasting depravity it spawns.  Period.   I used to despair over gun violence, especially when directed within marginalized groups and school shootings.  I still despair, but now I've learned that many young people resort to g

Imagine: The American Dream has manifested in homeownership! The Breadwinner has purchased a three-bedroom home, replete with a two-car garage, patio deck, and enclosed sauna.  A patch of green supports both flower and vegetable plots.  Truly a dream come true! Living in a vibrant, growing community fits the owner's picture of the face of America.  Absent the cyclical skirmishes with a parade of mortgage holders and Home Owner Associations (HOAs), life is good! However, it appears that economic health and growth have tied itself to building construction, especially single-family and multistory apartment housing.  As edifices sprout up like weeds in an untended garden, four-lane streets soon predominate. Frankly, many buildings mimic institutional architecture. Okay. A live-and-let-live shrug of the shoulders eases the feeling of encroachment. Yet, the "living was easy," and remained that way for 14 years.  Early one evening, though, while the Owner worked in her o