A Matter of Life and Death

Melancholy has settled over our home and stalled any creativity from my capture. I’m not even good at pretending that my frame is full of vim and vigor. (What the heck is vim anyway? I just checked it means exuberance. How goofy to feel at east to use a word without knowing the meaning.) Poor Bob has not lived with Mrs. Excitement for quite some time.

The title of this blog honestly states the paradox confronting us. A wonderful gentleman from church has just been diagnosed with the “C” word already in Stage Four. Options are limited. He has chosen to stock these next six weeks with memories and reminiscing while staying at his daughter’s home. This gentle icon of Christian love will be missed when he joins “his bride” in God’s heavenly home. He is remarkably enjoying life, not a surprise to any, until death dims his soul on Earth.

However, our lives are not completely draped in funeral black. My youngest nephew traveled to our home with his beautiful wife. Now, he was full of vim! April will bring about a noisy bundle with diapers to be changed and a mouth to be fed. The miracle of your first child halts the universe as you examine each tiny toe and all those tiny fingers grasping for love.

As I journeyed to church this morning to help on bulletins and stopped at Target to find some good deals, I noticed that life as usual was still transpiring for the vast multitudes of people. The new driver on the delivery truck for Arizona tea, the mother pleading with her three year old to try on a winter hat and the older gentleman attempting to press the gas pedal were probably not pondering heavy philosophical issues like life and death. However, each of them told a story that twisted into my path to change my focus. I giggled at the driver not quite turning the corner with ease, the toddler insisting that the hat should be purple and the senior driver proudly accelerating to six miles per hour.

I allowed myself two days of a funk since the cold, damp weather swept into my bones. I have learned that I need to admit to myself that some days are hard. Personal connections can pump that pain meter with ease. My spinal injection from last Friday brought limited relief so I let myself swim in the dark pool of “Golly Gee, this isn’t very fun!” for 48 hours.

There is so much life ready to be witnessed and begging for your participation. My Bible studies of a loving God, husband with kind thoughts and actions and even readers showing that they care continue to enforce that life is good. One special friend sent a short email this morning about a free writer’s workshop to be held over the weekend. A sense of satisfaction now rests on my shoulders. I’m unsure whether the idea of gathering with wanna-be authors or the thought of having someone take time to care and encourage delivered the stronger power of contentment. Either way, I’m convinced that life is good, so I better get off my tush and enjoy it.

God Uses My Chronic Pain to Show Me that Life is Good:

My slower speed, still faster than that geezer behind the wheel, lets me capture moments of life being good.