WTF . . . (i meant 'waiting though fed-up' - get your mind out of the gutter)

Yesterday was a rough day for me . . . I spent a couple of hours with some friends and their loved ones at Hospice yesterday. It was too soon for me. Stomach is still in knots, and I still feel "yucky" even this morning (like someone put a shop vac to my stomach - remember the scene in The Matrix where they suck out that little tracer from Neo's gut. . . yeah, like that ) . . . but it was a place that I sensed the Father wanted me to be and to join into, so I'm actuall "ok" with all of that.

But, like usual . . . it got me thinking some more . . .

One of the thoughts that came back to me was , "I can't WAIT until I'm ok again" . . . "can't WAIT until I'm passed all this 'stuff'", etc

WAIT . . .

not one of my favorite places to sit . . . it's irritating actually!! Gives me a rash . . . metaphorically and physically. I have this spot on my calf that is a "warning light" to me . . . starts itching and a rash develops telling me that stress is kicking my body's ass and I need to be aware of it. I wish I didn't need warnings or reminders but I do . . . I'm just that dense sometimes. But Sunday started me off pretty irritated at some people and while I thought I "dealt" with that, I keep having to "deal with it" . . . then yesterday came with all it's raw emotions and such . . . and today, my calf itches. 2 different kinds of rashes . . . people give me a rash on my buttocks . . . life shows up on my calf . . .

one of the biblical writers wrote about "waiting" (Isaiah 40:31) . . . i find it interesting that he starts off that chapter talking about "comfort" . . . there must be some mysterious connection between the two themes. It is also a kind note (vs. 11) that He speaks of "tending his flock like a shepherd: gathers the lambs in his arms and carries them close to his heart;"

and I understand a bit of the Hebrew to where the "waiting" is tied to "hope" . . . but right now, the waiting seems tied more to suffocation! Like the waiting I'm enduring is that moment where you jumped into the river from a high cliff and now you sense the bubbles rising up to the surface faster than you can get there and you are gasping for anything - air . . . water (bad idea btw) - and you are swimming upward but the surface seems too far away to reach.

WAIT . . .

I just can't figure this stuff out . . . which is actually, I'm sensing, the better place to be.

Yesterday too, had my mind rushing all over the place. Back and forth to past conversations and decisions that were made or not made. It's really hard to get back up to the surface when some types of currents keep pushing you around and pulling you back under . . . It's like surfing in some ways. When you wipe it out bad . . . and you are caught up in the tumbling surface and generated energy of a crashing wave that is using and abusing you. You might find yourself being pushed up on the rocks or at least the cutting bottom of shells and such . . . a shoreline break is very treacherous like that . . .

So you WAIT . . .

eventually, you believe that this energy and tumbling will stop . . . but right now your body seems determined to breathe, but you can't . . . for to breathe in now would be worse.

WAIT . . .

It's been a John Mayer 24 hours too . . . "Waiting on the World to change" speaks more to the spiritual ache in me more than even the social evils he espresses and is concerned about . . . http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oBIxScJ5rlY&ob=av3e
(skip the ad. . . I hate Vevo)

but that WAITING part . . .

wait . . . I have to scratch again . . .

Abandonement

Ok . . . so, let me start this entry with a warning and disclaimer :

• if you know me, you might want to not read this blog entry . . .


• if you walk into a room and folks are whispering. . . . and you catch yourself wondering if they are whispering about you . . . don't read this blog . . .


• if profanity is offensive to you . . . . don't go any further . . .


• if you tend to "blow people off" . . . save yourself the energy


• if being picked last always kept you awake at night . . . sleep soundly by skipping to another post . . .

Now the disclaimer :

• I'm not talking about you specifically . . .

ok . . . now onto my dis-connected thoughts:

One of the themes that keeps emerging from within my brokenness is this theme of abandonement. The first time I can recall this place within was when I was somewhere between the ages of 3-6. An ambulance had been called to our house because they thought my mom was having a heart attack. I don't remember much about the discussion . . . I remember the ambulance workers downstairs talking with my mom and putting her on a stretcher. I stayed in my room. And then, as I heard the ambulance siren crank up again, I looked out my bedroom window and saw the flashing lights as they drove down the hill away from our house. It was so dark outside, but I followed those flashing lights all the way out onto the main highway and watched in the distance as they disappeared.

And I wanted to throw up . . .

Something inside was afraid . . . I was alone . . . in my room . . . would my mom be ok? Will I be alone for the rest of my life? Just some of the crazy thoughts that pass through the mind of a young child . . . one with an incredibly active imagination to boot . . .

Fast Forward 40+ years . . . this time, I was riding with my mom in the ambulance as they transported her from the ICU at the hospital to Hospice . . . it would be part of the last journey mom and I would take together here on earth. My mind raced through so many thoughts, but that night so long ago now . . . and the flashing lights . . . and the sense of aloneness were very present. And then as we walked away from Hospice that afternoon . . . it continued to haunt . . . to her apartment . . . to NC as we laid her to rest . . . the ache was very real . . . and now a month after her passing into eternity, the haunting is pissing me off.

Why??

Because it is true . . .

Yep . . .

As much as I see things often as half full , and hope and believe in the best in others and situations . . . this one won't escape me . . .

In the end , I'm alone . . .

Now, don't misunderstand me . . . (for this is where my "openess" could carry an atom bomb) I have been so blessed in the past several years, for the friends that God has brought into my life. For the deepened friendship I have experienced from one's too precious to share them publically but I pray that the Father will bring something special into their lives for the dedication and commitment that they have shown toward me and my family.

My wife, kids . . . such joy fills my heart when I think of you!

My aunt, uncle, cousins . . . I would have never made it through that week without their graces!

The Seven ;)

The DD boys . . .

others at BCC and FCFC . . .

yeah, I simply can't even list them all . . . I'm so blessed!!!

But at the same time . . . there is this excruciating pain that I feel deep in my heart and soul. Wounds that the have been brought there by the actions of myself and others. I can't even call them "friends" anymore, because that word has come to mean so much to me now . . . but they are ones that I would have once numbered as close brothers and sisters.

I was there for them through so many pains and trials and situations . . . deaths, births , dedications, baptisms, parties, dinners, communions, movies, concerts, etc . . .

and I've heard nothing from them . . .

Nothing!

Maybe they don't know . . . I'll grant that grace mainly because of how often I simply have not known of a situation in another's life. But these folks have made it their busyness to know how well our church is doing or what my family is doing or how many staff are still at the church or how much I make or what car I drive . . . They've taken the time to mock and smear my name and reputation . . .

and now , their silence mocks the thing closest and truest in life . . . COMMUNITY

This was pushed even more deeply by one of "them" (i'm killing myself with how deep my own self-protection flows so that I'm labeling them as "them") the other night . . . We haven't really spoken in awhile . . . and when the opportunity came up, this former friend took up an hour of my life telling me about themselves . . . and the more they talked, the more deeply I ached. There was a moment when they actually said "how is Jan and the kids doing", and before I could say anything , I heard another 20 minutes about their family . . .

God, that killed me . . .

I'm 4 again and I want to puke . . .

when I look at you , I see a dark sky with a red light flashing as the siren takes it further and further away from me . . .

I want to shout out "F U", but why waste my breath . . .

Why do I even care ??

Because I'm afraid I'm alone . . .

and alot of you have done alot to reinforce that pain in my soul . . .

yeah, well screw you . . . my mouth motions . . .

God, it's been a month now . . . and I know, and you know, that I'm nowhere near healing in all this crapola . . . I hate feeling this vulnerable . . . so used and disposed of . . .

Does what we do or believe or offer even matter??

Are we nothing more than commodities that others use and leave?

and other thoughts stir too . . .

He was despised and rejected . . .

He made himself of no reputation . . .

He even thought his own dad had rejected and forsaken him in his moment of greatest pain and need . . .

hmmm . . .

Comfortably Numb

It started out like a fun idea (like most of mine sorta do :-\ ) . . .

I was a youth pastor at the time and me and some of the youth were getting together at different folks homes during the summer . . . just hanging out . . . playing some v-ball . . . doing whatever . . .

well, whatever can be . . . a good idea that goes bad real fast . . .

So, here we were . . . in this big open field . . . firing water baloons at one another from a pretty large distance . . . maybe 50 yards apart or so . . .

Then the challenge began . . .

Yeah, I'm sorta like Marty McFly in that way . . . have a hard time being called a chicken or anything like that . . . but in a moment of male arrogance, one of the guys said that he could probably hit me if I stood still out in the field . . .

So I did . . .

And he missed . . .

And the jawwing began . . .

And he missed again . . .

and again . . .

so I stepped closer . . . and he missed . . . and I stepped closer . . . and he missed again . . . and I stepped closer . . .

and it was in that moment that everything went into slow motion . . . I remember standing there, hands on hips (envision Robin Williams in Hook taunting Cap'n Hook) . . . and watching the water baloon release from the launcher (yeah, I was that close by then) and then trying to jump up and out of the way . . .

But I was too slow . . .

and at probably 90 mph and me just 15 yards away . . . I barely had time to flinch . . .

and it hit me . . . . yep . . . uh huh . . .

imagine giving the "V" victory sign , then turning your hand over , like you would pretend to walk, and then stick your thumb through . . .

yep . . .

I went down . . . Hard . . . but I wasn't sure why I was down because all I had was this moment of sudden numbness . . .

Sorta like when you were a kid, playing in the snow (ok, you florida crackers can pretend here) and someone hits you in the face with a snowball, or worse, an iceball . . .

Just numb . . .

And that is what moments in this grief journey feel like . . . . just numb . . .

And numb can be good . . . because it's just the heart's way of protecting itself because you have suffered a tremendous blow to it. But you know it's going to wear off and then . . . . well, pain, nausea, heaving . . . etc.

And during those numb moments you feel like you have a third eye growing out of your forehead. Everyone (even the dog) seems to look at you oddly and speak to you more slowly and intentional than before. You begin to wonder , "is there something wrong with me?" . . . and that's where numbness can become a problem . Because when we choose to stay numb because the fear of feeling can be too overwhelming to us, then that can become almost addicting in its own way. Becoming "comfortably numb" is dangerous . . . And you haven't even grabbed that MnM or margarita yet. But, on its own, "numb" is just protecting . . . warning . . . that, "YES", you've taken a hit . . . and so we then must see it as not something that is simply reactionary or reflex, but more. Really, "numbness" is an invitation. Yep . . . it is inviting us to feel . . . to hurt . . . to ache . . . to cry . . . to wonder . . . to believe . . . to taste . . . to see . . . to heal . . .

And that is what makes us most human . . . that process . . . it makes us most alive . . .

So . . . go ahead . . . stare at my third eye . . . stand over me . . . my heart is alive in this . . . aches, yes . . . churns, you bet . . . but alive even though I appear numb . . .

Do Overs

Wouldn't it be nice, if really . . . we could just start over??

To get a "do--over", or in my case, to get a couple of hundred ??

Wouldn't it really be nice, if you got another shot . . . another chance . . .

Last night's Super Bowl brought this to mind a bit . . . very few "mistakes" actually, but will Patriot players run the dropped pass over and over again in their minds? Will it replay over and over again . . . and will they daydream about a 2nd chance? A do-over ??

I hate regret!! Really, really do!!

but c'mon, . . . give me a break . . . why does it have to just sit back there in the back of my mind like it does??

Now I know that many of my "super-duper christian friends" have overcome this little nagging demon . . . they have "let go and let god" . . . "forgetting what lies behind . . . pressing onward. . . " or whatever formula has worked for them. But for me . . . it just sits there and nags . . .

I got a bit of a do'over this morning. I started jogging again. Yep, stumbled and heaved my way to 2 3/4 miles in 30 something minutes. I'm starting over again since my ankle injury back in November totally sidelined me . . . and then all this stuff with mom hit the fan . . . but I started it again today . . . my Couch to 5k . . . will work myself up to the 5k once again, and then onto a 10k . That's my goal. But I've done that before . . .so that do-over is palatable. It's the ones that I know I can't get back . . .

It's the other ones that haunt . . .

What if??

What if I had not moved my mom up by us . . . what if I had chosen a different doctor for her . . . what if I had insisted even greater on the 2nd CAT scan . . . what if I had suggested a different rehab facility . . . ugh . . .

The desire for a do-over is ok for the most part I think. It is actually something that I think is lodged in this eternal longing that Romans says has been set inside all of us. Something is wrong with this place we call "home" . . . it is more obvious at some times more than others, but in those moments, something cries out for justice and harmony and the desire to have things set "right" . . . . a new chance . . . a do-over . . .

But then, something inside me twists it and in that moment I sense a regret . . . a haunting whisper reminds me of all the mistakes . . . of all the screw ups . . . all the miscues . . . . maybe I'll just ignore it again . . . maybe I'll get busy into one of this daunting projects that has been waiting for my return and I'll simply lose that awareness that, maybe, it was my fault . . .

hmmmm . . . where are those MnM's ???

"Good" Grief

wow . . . it's been awhile since I last posted something here . . . May of 2010 . . . yeah, I guess nothing has happened in the last 20 months or so . . . :-\

Whatever!?$%#!

rejected friendships . . . judged by others . . . changes in life plans and professional goals (lol) . . . less finances . . . more car problems . . .


but that is in the past, at least for right now . . . at least somewhat . . .

Grief has a way of disturbing the past . . . the present . . . the future . . .

And I think I will start vomiting some thoughts once again . . . this time as my heart and life processes things . . .

It's been almost a month since I got another distruptive phone call (at 4am this time) . . . this time it was about mom . . . she had fallen in her bathroom and was going to the ER. Thus began 2 1/2 weeks of roller coaster riding that has left me feeling like a zombie at times . . . pissed off at other moments . . . and "normal" in some rare instances.

Mom passed away almost 2 weeks ago now . . . I was overwhelmed by the emotions of those weeks . . . surprised . . .

"Good Grief" . . . really Charlie Brown?? REALLY ?? There always seemed to be some resignation in his tone as I watched and read those cartoons . . . and yet there seems to be a whisper of redemption as well.

There is very little that I have experienced about grief that has been good in my life. And before some of you try to rectify my situation by pointing out the good fruit, the silver lining, the blessings, etc . . . let me simply say this . . . Do me a big favor and stop reading now . . . and please just shut up for awhile . . . I have a feeling that these ramblings will be messy and raw . . . but something and some-things need to be said.

Googling "grief" has its insightfulness . . . the stages . . . understanding . . . etc . . . but Googling leaves out one major headline . . . THIS S$*& (that editing was for my love ;-)) SUCKS!!

Grief feels like someone has reached into my stomach area . . . through my sternum . . . felt around for my gall bladder or my liver or my lung and just pulled it directly out . . . wait, that isn't my bladder or liver, you may have my colon or something deeper. . . no stitching, to carderizing (sp?), . . . just raw and abusive . . . you gotta think of Indiana Jones and the Skull movie I think as the guy reaches into the other dude and yanks out his heart and then shows it to him . . . yeah . . . ouch and yuk!

It's not supposed to happen . . . and yet it does . . . and life shouts that we just go on and yet we can't . . . we won't . . . we mustn't . . .

Grief . . . a reminder that what we've experienced as "life" is simply an illusion or may be better yet - an echo of another "Life" . . . something more is out there as I experience something less. And it is "less" . . . because , she is gone . . . I know it is natural . . . I know it is part of the circle of life Rafiki . . . but she's gone . . . I've forgotten her voice . . . her laugh . . . her "tone" . . . we've been left with a mess of problems to journey through . . .

Grief Sucks . . .

and yet . . .

i have sensed a goodness in this place . . . now, again, for those who are itching to rush me to the end of the story . . . just shut up . . . go read the latest captions in Christianity Today magazine or something christianese like that . . .

yeah . . . some good-ness . . .

for the last couple of days with mom in her moments of dementia . . . her moments after her brain surgery . . . I began to taste something "good" in our relationship . . .

something I have longed for . . . for a long time . . .

and then it was snatched away by death . . .

Grief's presence seems stronger . . .

I'm haunted by desire and death within . . . feels worse that that week at Lake Swan camp as a kid, where I buried my head in my pillow and cried myself to sleep every night . . . where the other kids laughed at me and I didn't fit in . . . my stomach hurt the whole week . . . thought I would throw up the whole week . . . they called it "homesickness" . . . I called it "you're a panzy-ass whimp who can't stay away from home and be like all the other 'almost grown up men' boys" . . . I think I was 10 or 11 maybe

The haunting feels so raw again . . .

Gosh I hate it!!

Been feeling very "anxious" as Jan and I prepare to head back home . . . why?? , I don't have a clue . . . my stomach is in my throat . . . was "hoping" that this week to unwind would help me keep things together and move on . . .lol . . . not really, I know . . . but give me a break --- I can pretend can't I ??!!!?!!

But grief won't let us pretend will it? Nope . . . it's "in your face" . . . even though it can be buried under the surface for a time.

So I'm here . . . wherever that is . . .

and,

something within whispers "it's good" . . .