Posted: 12:54 pm Friday, November 3rd, 2017
By Staff Writer
Your continued prayers, and warm, caring messages sustain me. I am taking life breath by breath, moment by moment, and day by day. I know that Zack is in the arms of Our Saviour, but my arms ache to hold him.
A friend shared this with me; I don’t know the author but it has circulated on many social media platforms. I suspect it to be true, though I’m still floating amidst the wreckage.
“I’ve lost friends, best friends, acquaintances, co-workers, grandparents, mom, relatives, teachers, mentors, students, neighbors, and a host of other folks. I have no children, and I can’t imagine the pain it must be to lose a child. But here’s my two cents…
I wish I could say you get used to people dying. But I never did. I don’t want to. It tears a hole through me whenever somebody I love dies, no matter the circumstances. But I don’t want it to “not matter”. I don’t want it to be something that just passes. My scars are a testament to the love and the relationship that I had for and with that person. And if the scar is deep, so was the love. So be it.
Scars are a testament to life. Scars are a testament that I can love deeply and live deeply and be cut, or even gouged, and that I can heal and continue to live and continue to love. And the scar tissue is stronger than the original flesh ever was. Scars are a testament to life. Scars are only ugly to people who can’t see.
As for grief, you’ll find it comes in waves. When the ship is first wrecked, you’re drowning, with wreckage all around you. Everything floating around you reminds you of the beauty and the magnificence of the ship that was, and is no more. And all you can do is float. You find some piece of the wreckage and you hang on for a while. Maybe it’s some physical thing. Maybe it’s a happy memory or a photograph. Maybe it’s a person who is also floating. For a while, all you can do is float. Stay alive.
In the beginning, the waves are 100 feet tall and crash over you without mercy. They come 10 seconds apart and don’t even give you time to catch your breath. All you can do is hang on and float. After a while, maybe weeks, maybe months, you’ll find the waves are still 100 feet tall, but they come further apart. When they come, they still crash all over you and wipe you out. But in between, you can breathe, you can function. You never know what’s going to trigger the grief. It might be a song, a picture, a street intersection, the smell of a cup of coffee. It can be just about anything…and the wave comes crashing. But in between waves, there is life.
Somewhere down the line, and it’s different for everybody, you find that the waves are only 80 feet tall. Or 50 feet tall. And while they still come, they come further apart. You can see them coming. An anniversary, a birthday, or Christmas, or landing at O’Hare. You can see it coming, for the most part, and prepare yourself. And when it washes over you, you know that somehow you will, again, come out the other side. Soaking wet, sputtering, still hanging on to some tiny piece of the wreckage, but you’ll come out.
Take it from an old guy. The waves never stop coming, and somehow you don’t really want them to. But you learn that you’ll survive them. And other waves will come. And you’ll survive them too.
If you’re lucky, you’ll have lots of scars from lots of loves. And lots of shipwrecks.”
New Movie | Same Kind of Different As Me
From the book of the same name, by Ron Hall & Denver Moore
“Therefore encourage one another and build each other up,
just as in fact you are doing.”
1 Thessalonians 5:11
Same Kind of Different As Me is an inspirational film: a telling of pain and laughter, doubt and tears, a story of how one woman’s faith and trust in God saved a life.
Starring Renee Zellweger, Greg Kinnear, Djimon Hounsou, and Jon Voight, it opened in theaters last Friday, October 20th.
In Same Kind of Different As Me, Denver, a man raised under plantation-style slavery in Louisiana in the 1960’s, escapes his captives to face a very foreign world he had no place in, and so he wandered the streets of Dallas, Texas for years, becoming disillusioned, bitter, angry, and volatile.
Enter Deborah and Ron, husband and wife. Deborah has just become a slave herself, to an ugly master, cancer. Ron, an international arts dealer, has lived a life of fine things and is used to being in control. Ha!
How they all come together is, of course, a God thing. Deborah believed in the power of prayer, and listened intently for direction from God. She obeyed what she believed He was telling her to do, and charges her husband to rescue a dangerous homeless man… Thus an unlikely trio was formed.
Same Kind of Different Than Me, by Ron Hall and Denver Moore, is also my October Book Club pick. Click the link to buy the book to read before or after movie night!
New Sweepstakes Coming Soon | From Tricks to Tinsel
A Mantle Make-Over Giveaway with Delilah and Balsam Hill
Look at my studio mantle! My friends at Balsam Hill have been so supportive of Point Hope this year and continue to bless me! They sent me great decorations for Halloween, Fall Harvest, and Christmas, and they are giving YOU a chance to win the foundation of all three looks:
From Tricks to Tinsel Mantle Make-Over Giveaway with Delilah and Balsam Hill, includes the White Berry Cypress Pre-Lit Wreath and Garland, set of 3 Faux Bois Candle Holders in Walnut, and Miracle-Flame LED Wax Pillar Candles in three sizes!
Start with these beautiful basics and take your mantle from tricks to tinsel by adding a few timely statements pieces like this set of 2 Jack-O-Lantern Cats – also available at Balsam Hill!
Be watching the newsletter and my Facebook page! Sweepstakes starts soon!
Do you know about Project Semicolon?
Started by Amy Bleuel, who’s father committed suicide, because “A semicolon is used when an author could have chosen to end their sentence, but chose not to. The author is you, and the sentence is your life.” wrote Amy.
My precious friend, Madison, gave rings (like the one pictured,) to all my girls, reminding them in their time of sorrow that their sentences must go on.
Thank you for being a part of my on-going narrative, and when you take my advice to Love Someone, make sure the first person is YOU.