Notes From A Broken Heart

Hey Bud, I think we've known each other long enough and shared in a durable-enough friendship for me to say to you what I'm about to! But first, a confession. Years ago, when we were introduced, you casually held my hand and remarked that my fingers and nail polish were beautiful.  I fell in love--- with you--- then and there! It may have been an offhand compliment, but I sensed your honesty, sensitivity, discernment, and just plain good taste.  (If beauty is in the eyes of the beholder, so is love). Seriously, I have one basic question from which others may derive.  First, don't you think it's time to divest yourself of the imposed shackles you wear? The restraints probably are unnoticed by most people, but I see them clearly.  You wear them around like a Slidell Penitentiary inmate, the bonds tied at the waist, and clanging to announce your presence. Sadly, your heart, soul, and spirit are tethered to that ball and chain as well. First and foremost, Friend, I am not

  Sweetie, "When I was your age, I didn't understand words like "nephew," or great-nephew," or what they meant.  I called my relatives by their names or nicknames. Nobody really explained  anything else about them to me. " "You've called me "Auntie Dorothie" all your young life.  We have fun when I visit my sister, your great grandmother, in Chicago, but I don't think  I've ever explained how or why you call me "Auntie Dorothie." "No, you haven't." "Have I confused you" Well, grownups usually confuse young children.  Actually, we mostly don't have the words to explain to a young person like you what we mean when we use some words.  I enjoyed talking with you this morning and know that you do remember me.   I love that! " "Okay."  Now, I just learned you've been crying.  Silent tears trickled down your handsome face!   So, I'm going to do what your first-grade teacher p

  Thanks. Giving. Giving. Thanks. Thanksgiving.  "Oh give thanks unto the Lord for He is good..." Thank You, Father! With eyes wide open awareness, understanding, and insight come.  I realize that I've been living as if  I'm the only one praying, persisting, or praising.  As if I   were the sole supplicant, the only one who  asks the Savior to help me . How myopicI've been! Ego, get out of my way!  Out of my thoughts.  Out of my life.   Psychologist and author, the late Dr. Wayne Dyer wrote that "ego" serves as an acronym  for "Easing God Out." Ironic? You betcha! I've been allowing ego to have its way, way too long.  Apostle Paul explained, "I have discovered this principle of life---that when I want to do what is right, I inevitably do what is wrong.  I love God's law with all my heart.  But there is another power within me that's at war with my mind" This power makes me a slave to the sin that is still within me" 

  No. As I confessed about a year ago, we've never met.  It's unlikely that we ever will.  Still, just in case someone may read this blog and share it with you, let me begin where my last missive stopped.  I prayed for you after I'd poured out my heart about your monogamous situation.  Why? As a well-known comedian admits, "That's what I do!"    Essentially what I do is pray, and that's no joking matter.  Basically, I had lamented about your apparent helplessness to demand and command the respect you deserve.  I reminded you that you are made in the image and likeness of God. I wondered why you habitually undervalued yourself.   I questioned why you demanded nothing  from the guy you've chosen to spend your life with.  As if he were the "be-all and end-all," as your great grandmother would declare.   I posited that he treated you shabbily because life before him  had treated you like trash! That's all you knew!  I speculated that perhap

Dearest Mother, Today marks 23 years since "I'll fly away, oh glory, I'll fly away, to a home on God's celestial shore" served as your farewell and adieu to us here who still mourn. Watching you suffer, then rally, suffer and rally, over and over again nearly pushed your multigenerational family past the inconceivable.   I spent every moment I could with you, often relieving out-of-town-adult children, in-laws, grandchildren. and great-nieces and nephews who had come to pay their "last respects," all the while hoping you'd live.   Goodbyes are never easy, especially when we don't know if it's a casual "See you soon!" or a final "God be with you until we meet again."  Even though you and I lived in the same city, we didn't live together.  Which meant every time the phone rang, my heart tried to push through my throat.  Yet, I had to answer it. Relatives had come and gone weekly, saddened by the deterioration of your hea

Living in Colorado ranks as one of the greatest blessings I've received. The Fall season drapes itself in grandeur.  Relief from the stifling August heat and the gradual cooling that ushers in majestic maples and gold and red aspen provide the extra fillip that marks Colorado as God's country.  Trees line my neighborhood and gracefully endure their transition from leafy greens to colorful golds and burgundy-tinged magentas. I anticipate the first frost and the season-changing wind that makes its way through our yards. Particularly, Fall focuses my attention on Courtney, my younger daughter. who now lives eternally in the Holy City whose streets are paved with gold, and where angels ceaselessly worship God.  Although no sickness or death exists there,  the pangs, bittersweet anguish, meld with my tears that often flow with no warning.  Courtney suffered grievously from Type 2 diabetes.  Diagnosed while still a college student, Courtney learned to "handle this monster"